Whirlwind - Barrett Tillman [61]
Far worse damage was inflicted upon Franklin. “Big Ben” took two 550-pound bombs from another unobserved attacker descending from the clouds. The results were catastrophic: gushing smoke like a nautical volcano, Franklin lay immobile barely fifty miles off Kyushu. In a day-long battle the crew saved the ship, though some 800 men were killed—one in four. She limped to the East Coast to be rebuilt, but never rejoined the fleet.
Previous recon flights to Kure Harbor south of Hiroshima had located the crown jewel in the emperor’s naval tiara: battleship Yamato, the biggest thing afloat. Therefore, on the 19th, air strikes targeted warships at Kure, Kobe, and the Inland Sea. But first the carriers launched fighters to clear the air over greater Kyushu.
Major Thomas Mobley took sixteen of Bennington’s marines on a dawn sweep ahead of full-deckload strikes inbound to Kure anchorage, southeast of Hiroshima. The Corsairs had easy pickings the day before, but now they faced the Imperial Navy’s elite.
Two of Mobley’s pilots noted about twenty fighters above and behind, flying neat four-plane formations. With so many carrier planes airborne, it was impossible to know who was who. The skipper reckoned they were probably friendly but kept an eye on them. Hearing combat on the radio, Mobley turned toward Kure Harbor. The stalkers then saw their chance and they took it.
About twenty bandits hit the marines from port, then maneuvered to box them in. Two Corsairs went down in the first rush and the rest fought to survive.
Probably Japan’s most professional aviation unit was the 343rd Naval Air Group, commanded by the legendary Captain Minoru Genda. Best known for his role in planning the Pearl Harbor attack, in December 1944 he had formed the group at Matsuyama on Shikoku with three fighter squadrons and a reconnaissance unit. He recruited a high proportion of veterans, and by March 1945, 20 percent of his fliers were rated as Class A combat pilots.
The “squadron of aces” flew a promising new fighter: Kawanishi’s big, robust N1K, called George by the Allies. It was the Zero’s antithesis: boxy rather than elegant, strong rather than nimble. With a powerful radial engine, the George was a potent weapon. Fast and rugged, it was capable of nearly 370 mph, bearing four 20mm cannon.
In its combat debut the 343rd had scrambled from its Shikoku base, bordering the Inland Sea. Fifty Georges took off in three squadrons.
Amid the confusion the Americans reported four enemy aircraft types but they were all Georges. They were led by Lieutenant Naoshi Kanno, a squadron commander and recklessly aggressive ace.
Contrary to the bunch that Major Hansen’s squadron had shot up previously, the newcomers were aggressive and capable. They maintained section integrity and, unlike many Japanese, these could shoot. Mobley limped out of the fight with 20mm hits in his cockpit. The next senior pilot was Captain William A. Cantrel, an excellent aviator who had seen only one Japanese plane during his Guadalcanal tour. Now he had a skyful. In a two-minute dogfight the Oregonian shot two Georges but the Japanese scored, too. Cantrel’s Corsair was hit and he sustained a painful foot wound. Yet he regrouped eight of his pilots, mostly flying damaged aircraft, and shepherded them seaward. In the running battle he engaged two more bandits and hit both, driving them off his cripples. One Corsair succumbed to battle damage near the destroyer screen, where the pilot bailed out. The others limped back to Bennington but three were jettisoned, too badly damaged to repair. Cantrell climbed out of his plane and collapsed from loss of blood, eventually receiving a well-deserved Navy Cross.
The marines were credited with nine kills but lost six F4Us and two pilots. It was a poor bargain: actually Kanno’s “Elite Guard” squadron lost three planes on the mission to other causes. Mobley