Wind Fighter Squadron

Chapter 2 - Experimental Type 12 Carrier Fighter

Around 1937 (Shōwa 12), those involved in naval aviation were in a state of confusion. The latest and prideful Type 96 carrier fighter, which they believed to be a masterpiece, had already fallen behind to second-rate status upon its deployment.

The root of the problem stemmed from intelligence received from Europe. According to it, the latest fighters from Britain and Germany, which began production and deployment slightly after the Type 96 fighter, were all boasting a top speed in the mid-500 kilometers per hour range. While it wasn't entirely fair to compare, as the Type 96 was a carrier-based aircraft while those from Britain and Germany were land-based, a difference of 100 kilometers per hour in speed was too significant to ignore. In the rapidly advancing world of aviation, it was expected that the era of fighters in the 600 to 700 kilometer-per-hour range would soon arrive. In order to not fall behind the trend of increasing speeds, it was imperative for the development of the Experimental Type 12 carrier-based fighter to focus on maneuverability and wing loading, rather than sticking to tradition.

However, even with a small, lightweight, high-powered engine, most of the issues could have been resolved. Unfortunately, such engines were not available in Japan, a country lagging behind in aviation technology. Therefore, it was necessary to accept some increase in size or decrease in maneuverability and adopt a high-powered engine to pursue higher speeds. At that time, there was the Kinsei engine, but even this engine, considered large, clearly lacked the necessary power. Thus, the Navy decided to address the power shortage by increasing the Kinsei engine to 18 cylinders or enlarging its displacement, requesting the manufacturer to develop it accordingly. Despite allowing for some increase in size, the Navy hurried the development of the Experimental Type 12 carrier fighter.

. . .

The development of the Experimental Type 12 was undertaken in a somewhat gambling-like manner, with both airframe and engine development occurring simultaneously. However, due to the airframe and engine being from the same manufacturer and significant relaxation of requirements regarding maneuverability, wing loading, and range, by 1939, the prototype was successfully completed. After spending nearly a year on rectifying and improving problematic areas, in April of 1940, it was officially adopted as the Type 0 Model 11 carrier-based fighter. Furthermore, the Model 21, which could fold its wings at the tips to facilitate operation on aircraft carriers' elevators, was completed, marking the beginning of full-scale production.

On the other hand, the Experimental Type 12 land-based attack aircraft suffered greatly from this momentum. With a bomb load similar to the single-seat Experimental Type 12 carrier-based fighter and requiring seven to eight crew members, it appeared to the naval aviation upper echelons as an excessively luxurious aircraft. Moreover, the prospect of losing seven or eight crew members with the loss of a single aircraft was unacceptable for the thinly spread naval aviation personnel. Additionally, the procurement and maintenance costs per aircraft were incomparably higher than those of the Experimental Type 12 carrier-based fighter. As the number of aircraft was crucial, cost was also a critical factor. Ultimately, the Experimental Type 12 land-based attack aircraft was not adopted. As a result, the Experimental Type 12 carrier-based fighter, namely the Reppū, which shared the same engine, proceeded with its production plan smoothly without suffering from engine shortages.

"Well, that's about it," I explained to Flight Petty Officer Second Class Hiroyoshi Nishizawa, the inexperienced fourth member of the squadron.

Flight Petty Officer First Class Kaneyoshi Mutō in my wingman's aircraft and Flight Petty Officer First Class Tetsuzō Iwamoto in the third plane had both earned their stripes as combat pilots wreaking havoc on the continent, far surpassing someone like me. Therefore, it felt somewhat presumptuous to lecture them. However, being fresh out of the training air corps, Nishizawa, who had no combat experience, allowed even someone like me to lecture him confidently. Passing on knowledge and transmitting information to subordinates were important duties of a superior. However, I had long been surpassed in terms of skill.

Nishizawa had learned to fly from Mutō in the training air corps, and according to Mutō, he had great potential and was sure to become a top ace in the Japanese Navy in the future. I envied him.

By the way, with the adoption of the Reppū, the Japanese Navy changed the organization of its squadrons from three planes per unit to four. Unlike the Type 96 carrier-based fighter, the Reppū was a wild horse that would toss its crew around with its high speed and powerful torque. In short, maintaining formation and position with the Reppū was extremely difficult. Looking back on my own experiences, I could understand. If I were to switch positions with Mutō and become his wingman, just keeping up with his extraordinary maneuvers would be a challenge. If I were the third plane in a three-plane formation, I would undoubtedly be unable to maintain that position. I can say this with confidence. It's a pathetic confidence, but it's there.

Still, if it were the light and agile Type 96 carrier-based fighter with its low speed, even I might be able to handle being the third plane in a three-plane formation. But with the Reppū, it's absolutely impossible. If even I can't do it, then it's hopeless for someone even less skilled. Unfortunately, even though I'm like this, I'm still considered somewhat better among the officer pilots. Honestly, there are too many incompetent guys among Japan's officer pilots. Of course, there are some skilled ones among them.

When it comes to Imperial Navy fighter pilots, it's a realm dominated by non-commissioned officers. It's safe to say that about 80% of the skilled ones are NCOs. That's not to say that's the reason, but I do value NCOs. I've never been one to boast or act arrogantly. It's not about being humble or modest; it's just that such behavior only earns one contempt and resentment from others, without any benefit. There are quite a few idiots who criticize my lack of dignity because of this attitude. Usually, those who say such things are just dumbasses who can't distinguish between arrogance and dignity.

And if you think about it a little, consider which kind of superior—one who treats their subordinates kindly or one who bosses them around—will be more liked by their subordinates? Furthermore, in the Army, there are quite a few cases where officers who unfairly mistreat their subordinates end up facing disciplinary action or being relegated to eternal reserves due to the expert performances of subordinates who are adept at dodging bullets. Well, it's mostly hearsay, but it's probably true nine times out of ten. No, I'll say it's true every single time.

In essence, if you don't treat others kindly, you'll end up facing hell later. How many officers in our Imperial Navy don't understand this basic principle? Let me tell you now. When the war breaks out, those guys won't last long. So, I'm extremely kind to NCOs, especially those in my wing. If things go well, they might become a human shield when things get desperate. Many Japanese people take pride in dying for others, especially pilots; they're like living naniwabushi tales. Well, there are also cool and cynical guys like Iwamoto, but there should be plenty of them willing to sacrifice their lives for their adored superiors.

We don't know how far off it is, but war with the United States is inevitable. That's why I'm laying the groundwork now. Some people are like stone walls, and some are like bulletproof steel plates.

"I'm counting on you, human shields."