Somewhere in the Northwest Pacific, May 15, 1944
The carriers turned back into the wind. The morning strike was returning. The pilots had claimed almost a dozen kills including a trio of battleships and at least two carriers. The radio operators aboard the ships could listen to who was not speaking and assume that the losses had to have been significant as well.
An hour later, Taiho turned out of the wind. Fourteen aircraft had landed on her deck. Five would never fly again. Two were from other carriers. With spares and the aircraft held back for the combat air patrol, the pride of the fleet would be lucky to launch two dozen aircraft in the afternoon. The other carrier groups were lucky if they only took two thirds losses from the morning strikes.
Pilots who had been trained during the pre-war time of abundance were shell shocked as they debriefed in the ready room. One Zero pilot, who was claiming his forty fifth and forty sixth kills, said that they were first intercepted almost one hundred miles from their intended target by thirty odd heavy fighters that were fifty miles an hour faster than his aircraft and could eat up damage like it was a light snack. As soon as one wave of fighters made its pass, another group dove out of the sun from 10,000 feet above the escorted bombers and made another pass. The Americans never tried to turn. They just dove, slightly adjusted for lead, and then applied full throttle to get miles above the bombers again before repeating these attacks for eighty miles. His kills were from picking off fighters damaged by rear seat gunners aboard the bombers.
The few few surviving bomber pilots could not even talk about the American fighters. The squadrons were ripped apart repeatedly until bombers flew with perhaps one or two compatriots. When they started to approach the American fleet, anti-aircraft shells stripped compatriots apart at an accuracy that they could not even comprehend. Shells burst just in front of bombers that were starting their dives constantly instead of passing behind them and exploding 1,000 feet too late. Once the heavy guns stopped firing at an incoming attack, the light cannons put up a wall of steel that the Japanese fleet could not even hope to replicate. Half of the kills the light guns scored were after weapons were dropped but the tracers had often done a good enough job to create a wobble on all but the steeliest nerved pilot. One pilot reported that at least two dive bombers never dropped their bombs and crashed -- one into a carrier and another into a battleship. The carrier was bellowing smoke and had to be sinking.
By the time the pilots could finish their debrief, the admiral had a simple decision to make --- he had to cover the crippled battleship Shinano as she returned to Tokyo Bay for reconstruction. The fleet would turn for home and claim a victory in chasing off the Americans while inflicting disproportionate losses. He knew enough to greatly discount his pilots' claims but anything else was suicide without advantage.