Chapter 1054: The Legend of Bygone Years

“Hey, I say, Yagi-kun, what are you guys doing?” As Takemoto Tarō and his companion, who were responsible for building trenches, were carrying a log past the concealed field airfield, they saw a few of their old acquaintances from the Army Air Arm dismantling the fighter plane with the faulty engine.

“Takemoto-kun, we’re preparing to repair two planes, to take off and engage those damn American bastards!” Sergeant Yagi, wiping his grease-covered hands on his trousers, said with a smile to his old friend Takemoto. “Yesterday’s bombing made us all feel that we should do something. At least if we have planes, we can do our best to stop the enemy’s bombing.”

Even if you had ten times the planes, you couldn’t have stopped a bombing of yesterday’s scale, Takemoto Tarō thought to himself, but on his face, he still wore a look of admiration. “That’s great, Yagi-kun. If you can sink their aircraft carriers, it will be even more effective. Those big things, full of planes… as long as you can sink them, our island can be held.”

Sergeant Yagi was taken aback for a moment, then turned around thoughtfully. He said no more to Takemoto, but put on an air of having figured something out. Takemoto Tarō, seeing that his old friend was no longer chatting, also carried his log and walked towards their trenches. After all, that was their only barrier against the American artillery fire and bullets. Everyone wanted to build these fortifications to be incomparably strong, so that they could, by relying on these tunnels and bunkers, contend with the American army, which had a clear advantage in firepower.

The Japanese were very diligent, and they faced their work with perseverance. This nation seemed to be born for rules and obedience. At least all the Japanese soldiers on this island were of this typical Japanese character. In two days, they had dug 10 kilometers of trenches. About 1 kilometer of this length, they had even cut down timber to reinforce the sides and the fire points.

They had put a cover on the heavy machine gun positions, and then had tamped down the earth, and then had gotten some weeds to lay on top, to camouflage it as much as possible to look like the surrounding scenery. And so these bunkers, which faced the beach, had become sturdy and concealed pillboxes, which could inflict massive casualties on the Americans when they landed.

These fire points were all connected by trenches. Thousands of soldiers were deployed in these trenches, using their Type 38 rifles and light machine guns to cover these interlocking-fire fortifications, which were made up of heavy machine guns. These infantry had to, as much as possible, delay the American breakthrough and outflanking, to buy time for the heavy machine gun fire points to inflict casualties.

In his command post, Major General Ishida was reporting on the island’s war preparations to his new superior, General Yamashita Tomoyuki, who was known as the “Tiger of Malaya.” “Your Excellency, General, the entire island is already covered in trenches. We are short of barbed wire and obstacles to stop the enemy warships from approaching. In many places, we can only use wooden stakes as a substitute, but according to the navy personnel who have been left behind, the effect is very poor.”

General Yamashita on the other end of the phone said something, and Ishida, on this end, quickly stood at attention and answered loudly, “Hai! Your humble servant will definitely hold the position! Hai! I will not retreat a single step!”

He hung up the phone, his heart filled with dejection. The Type 92 infantry guns that were supposed to be his reinforcements had been sunk on their way by the American navy’s activities. Now he could only rely on grenade launchers and the dozens of old-fashioned field guns that had originally been assigned to him to fight against the American warships and landing forces.

On several of the high grounds, he had deployed all the long-range support forces he could, including 20 Type 92 infantry guns and 10 Meiji 38th Year Type 105mm field howitzers. This thing was born in 1911. You can imagine just how “crappy” its performance was, to be still in use in World War II. Unfortunately, most of the second-line Japanese divisions only had this kind of artillery. The third-line divisions couldn’t even be fully equipped with this crappy stuff.

Just as Major General Ishida was in his command post, studying how to use this scrap metal in his hands to repulse the American landing, Sergeant Yagi was in his own field, in the concealed airfield, discussing with his remaining few subordinates a tactic that he believed could change the course of the war.

He looked at his beloved fighter plane and said to the few subordinates he had left, “Gentlemen… the current war situation is very unfavorable for us. Our fighters have not been updated for a long time, and most of the time, when our pilots take off, they never return. But we still hold on to the hope of victory, because our Great Japanese Empire will surely achieve the final victory!”

As he was speaking these slogan-like words, he reached out his hand and stroked the fuselage of the fighter. This was his favorite plane. He had even, with this plane, once shot down an American fighter. But now everything had changed, changed to the point where he simply couldn’t understand.

He had seen the navy’s new Zero fighter. Its terrifying speed and light flight attitude had made him extremely envious. That was indeed a very good plane, but it had been so completely outmatched by the tactical coordination that the Americans had developed. He didn’t know why air combat, which had once revered dogfighting, no longer had a fair Bushido spirit, but had become a brutal war of attrition, a competition of armor and engine power.

To watch his subordinates die in the sky, one by one, was a very bad feeling for Sergeant Yagi. He hoped he could avenge his fallen comrades, but he had never had an ideal way to deal with the American fighter units, which had already surpassed the Japanese army in both quantity and quality.

“All this time, we have been wrong! We have been wrongly competing with the Americans in the speed of our planes and our own skilled piloting techniques,” Yagi said, still stroking his plane. “But the Americans can also hone their skills, and the planes they build can also surpass ours.”

Hearing these words, the few pilots all lowered their heads in resignation. They could not deny this cruel fact. When the navy’s Zero fighter had been defeated by the Americans, they had already known that the sky, which had belonged to the Japanese air units, had been lost in their hands.

“But! We have one thing, that the Americans can never surpass!” Yagi suddenly turned his head, his sharp gaze fixed on his subordinates. “And that is our spirit! Our great spirit of Bushido! We can die for our country! We can give our lives for our Empire!”

He gritted his teeth and announced his decision, a decision to use his own sacrifice to make a great contribution to his country. “If we fly our planes and crash directly into the American carriers, then those damn planes will have no base at sea! Their planes will not be able to take off. If their superior air power cannot fight, then our invincible fleet will still have a chance to defeat the American navy!”

“We will load our planes with explosives! We will use our piloting skills to dodge the American anti-aircraft fire, and crash directly into the American warships. We will be the shells! We will be the guided missiles that will surely hit!” He waved his fist fiercely, as if he were already piloting his plane and had sunk an American carrier.

“Yes! We should do this! Since we can’t guarantee that the sky belongs to us, then we should atone for our sins to His Majesty the Emperor by committing suicide! Now we have a more suitable resting place. This is a blessing from heaven!” another, older pilot said, nodding in agreement. “Count me in!”

“Count me in! For the Great Japanese Empire! For His Majesty the Emperor!” The young lives were easily inflamed. The remaining few pilots also waved their fists and began to shout excitedly, as if they were going on a mission of certain victory, not to their deaths.

And so they began to record what they were doing, because they had to have a complete sortie report to prove that they were really going to attack the American army, and not to leave this place and to passively avoid the war. In the end, this record was sent to Major General Ishida. When he saw this document, he was so moved he wept.

At this time, these pilots had already tied explosives to their planes, and, in aircraft with not-even-full fuel tanks, they had taken off in the direction of the American navy. They had not even conducted any reconnaissance, because they had already decided that they would crash into any American warship they encountered, to sacrifice themselves for their comrades, in exchange for a greater victory.

Ishida couldn’t help but think of his favorite cherry blossoms, a flower that bloomed for a very short time. The Japanese had a tradition of viewing the cherry blossoms. They regarded this momentary splendor as the most beautiful of sights. And so he walked to the exit of his command post and looked at the distant sky. “Go and bloom there, oh flowers of the Empire’s warriors! We will cherish everything that you have exchanged for with your lives. Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”

In 1274, when the Mongol Yuan army, which spanned Eurasia, invaded Japan, a typhoon that was strong enough to destroy the Yuan army’s ships and armor had wiped out the powerful Mongol army. At that time, the Japanese believed that it was the spirits of the Emperor that had helped to eradicate the Yuan army. Later, the Yuan dynasty had once again gathered its forces to conquer Japan, but in this campaign, the Yuan army had lost more than 10,000 men. The vast majority of them had not died in battle, but had died in a storm at sea. As a result, the Yuan dynasty had never again dared to rashly launch an attack on Japan. The Japanese believed that these typhoons had been sent by the heavens to save Japan, and so they had bowed in worship and had called them “divine winds” (kamikaze).

Now, 665 years later, a group of fanatical Japanese pilots had decided to use their own spirit to summon a new storm, to protect their motherland behind them. And their deeds had been transmitted back to the Imperial General Headquarters by Ishida via radio. For a time, everyone felt that they could use this matter to make a story, to fight a suicidal naval battle that seemed to hold a glimmer of victory.

Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com