Wind Fighter Squadron

Chapter 10 - Wingmen

"Mutō, go for it!"

At the same time as I shouted into the radio, Mutō, who had dutifully covered the tail of the lead plane behind, charged headlong towards the enemy planes like a released hunting dog.

The introduction of aviation radios into the Reppū had occurred just before the outbreak of the war. Despite the annoying static noise, voices could still be clearly heard. And when conducting formation aerial combat, the power of these aviation radios was immense. They allowed for communication of intentions far faster and easier than hand signals. As the commander of a combat unit, even though it was a section, aviation radios had become indispensable to me.

I shifted my position behind Mutō's plane and covered for him. This not only allowed me to conserve ammunition but also increased my favorability as a considerate superior trying to give credit to my subordinates. Two birds with one stone, alright.

Mutō's maneuvers were exceptional. Despite the fact that he was not particularly skilled in dogfighting, he overpowered the surviving two P-40s that had attacked us with his strong arms. In the blink of an eye, he had taken the rear of the enemy aircraft and downed one of them with a continuous burst. I doubt he even used twenty 20 mm rounds. I was not only impressed by Mutō's skill but also grateful that he was not only my subordinate but also my ally. If I had encountered Mutō as an enemy on the battlefield, I would undoubtedly have been shot down.

The last remaining P-40 attempted to flee, but we did not pursue it. Chasing too far into a melee was against the rules. In such chaos, you never knew from where an attack might come, be it from above, below, front, back, left, or right.

. . .

Looking back, the aerial battle was truly a momentary event in terms of perception. And now, there were only friendly aircraft in this airspace. The enemy planes had either been shot down or fled. As we safely concluded the battle, Iwamoto and Nishizawa's planes approached us. Iwamoto raised two fingers, and Nishizawa's face was also beaming. Ah, these guys must have wiped out the entire enemy section. Just like Mutō, they are truly fearsome people.

Reflecting in my eyes, slightly blurred by admiration for my wingmen's skills, were several columns of smoke rising from the distant ground. It must be Iba Airfield.

While we were engaging enemy aircraft, the Kyōfū squadron must have bombed the airfield, causing the fuel tanks or ammunition depots on the ground to explode and catch fire. Thinking so, as I gazed ahead, a large formation of friendly planes, in orderly formation, was approaching us. It was the Kyōfū squadron returning after their bombing run on the enemy airfield. The fact that they could still form formations even after the attack indicates that they didn't suffer significant losses.

We joined the formation of friendly aircraft and accompanied them on the return to the carrier. Protecting the Kyōfū squadron from any stragglers was also our duty, and with more eyes, discoveries could be made sooner. Moreover, we were freed from the anxiety of getting lost. In this era of poor navigation support equipment, returning to the carrier was also a matter of life and death.

. . .

Even after returning to the carrier, I remained vigilant in gathering information. The decision on whether there would be another sortie in the afternoon would greatly influence our future actions. From what I gathered from others, it seemed that today's sortie would end after this one. The higher-ups in the 1st Air Fleet had determined that significant damage had been inflicted on both Iba and Clark Airfields through the bombings. When I relayed this information to Mutō, Iwamoto, and Nishizawa, they all visibly sighed in relief. Even for these monstrous guys, prolonged sorties under tension were particularly draining. Though they appeared fine, they must have been quite fatigued.

Our Zuikaku air group had dispatched a total of 48 planes, consisting of 24 Reppū and 24 Kyōfū, for the attacks on Iba and Clark Airfields. During the course of these engagements, the fourth Reppū of the third squadron's second section was lost in aerial combat, and the third Kyōfū of the second squadron's first section was lost to anti-aircraft fire. Furthermore, during the fleet's air cover mission, one Reppū from the third squadron was lost due to a failed landing attempt. Fortunately, the crew only suffered minor injuries. Additionally, there were more damaged planes upon return than expected, and the maintenance crews were working tirelessly to repair them. Well done to them.

On the other hand, the pilots were a mix of emotions. While most were boasting about the number of enemy kills, the leader of the third squadron's third section, who lost the fourth Reppū, couldn't hide his bitter expression. The pilots of the adjacent planes in his flight also looked somber. No matter how many enemy planes they shot down, it seemed they couldn't rejoice when their comrades were lost.

This made me ponder.

My flight consisted of formidable men, whether it be Mutō, Iwamoto, or Nishizawa, and I couldn't imagine them being taken down by an enemy plane. But they were still human. Perhaps someday, they would meet their end at the hands of the enemy. I couldn't help but imagine such a scenario.

On the first day of the war, despite achieving my first kill, I couldn't rejoice in it, feeling as though something heavy like lead had been swallowed deep within my heart.