Whirlwind - Barrett Tillman [55]
To Japan
As Task Force 58 pounded north through roughening seas, Spruance took advantage of the poor weather to shield his approach from the Japanese. During the twelve-hour run-up to the launch point, carrier aircrews sorted out their equipment, and many donned long underwear against the North Pacific weather. Half of the air groups were new to combat, and Pete Mitscher had taken pains to prepare them as well as possible. His staff had issued notes on tactics and operational procedures, including the latest information on Japanese defenses.
Though of mixed quality, intelligence had come a long way since the Doolittle Raid. one pilot recalled, “The maps were good geographic and strategic target aids, but most recent tactical info was sparse and not very accurate.”
Some old Pacific hands had waited a long time for a look at Tokyo. They included Lieutenant Commander Fritz E. Wolf, flying off Yorktown. A prewar Navy pilot, he had joined Claire Chennault’s Flying Tigers and returned home credited with downing four Japanese planes. Unlike most of the naval aviators in the Tigers, he reentered his parent service and wangled another combat assignment. He assumed command of Fighting-Bombing Squadron 3 a week before his twenty-ninth birthday.
Commander Charles Crommelin, skipper of Air Group 12 on Randolph, had been chasing “meatballs” since 1943. The Pacific War was a family affair for him and his four brothers, all of whom not only served in the Navy, but graduated from Annapolis (1923–41), an all-time record.
A few pilots had seen the other half of the global war, like Fighting Squadron 4’s Lieutenant Dean Laird. Flying a Wildcat, the lanky Californian downed two German planes off Norway in october 1943. Lieutenant Donald A. Pattie, commanding San Jacinto’s bombers, had been the first American to land in Vichy-occupied Morocco in November 1942.
on the evening of the 15th at least one carrier prepared to load napalm bombs for use against the Imperial Palace and surrounding area, “but plans were aborted at the last minute.” Later the squadrons were told that the palace had no military significance, though a few aviators grumbled at what they considered a missed opportunity.
Veterans or rookies, pilots manned aircraft around 0600 the next morning, groping in the flight decks’ predawn blackout to find their designated aircraft. They were appalled at the weather, which a Hornet (CV-12) pilot called “dark and icky.” On occasion the carriers’ radio masts were obscured by the low-lying scud.
On rain-swept decks, launch officers judged each carrier’s motion in the spume-capped waves. As the bow began to rise, a checkered flag dropped abruptly and the first pilot off each ship released his toe brakes, kept a stiffened arm against the throttle, and began his takeoff roll.
Gloss-blue Hellcats and Corsairs lifted off at fifteen-second intervals, rising into the chilling gloom with running lights shining from wingtips and tails, providing essential reference for pilots joining their two-plane sections and four-plane divisions.
Thus began almost eleven hours of continuous flight operations.
Thanks to the weather, Spruance’s intent for an unannounced arrival was fulfilled. An Imperial Navy officer later stated, “The attack of the 16th was a complete surprise to our homeland defenses.”
Surprise was important to the Americans’ plans. Their initial goal was air superiority—beating down Japan’s airpower—which was best accomplished by destroying enemy aircraft on the ground. Once the tailhookers gained control of enemy airspace, they would devote more attention to the pinpoint targets that B-29s seldom hit in high-altitude attacks: specific aircraft and engine factories that contributed directly to Tokyo’s air defense.
Therein lay the striking contrast between Army and Navy aviation. Faster than many enemy fighters and possessing powerful defensive armament, the Superfortress