1941, Thursday 12 June;
Lieutenant Honda looked left and then right, and grunted a note of satisfaction, both of the other two aircraft of his flight were maintaining station. He was immensely proud of the fact he’d been chosen as the new flight leader, and he was determined to vindicate that decision. Before take-off, he’d repeatedly stressed to both pilots of a need to maintain station, and despite both of them being experienced, it had worried him. However, he now realised that his fears were mis founded, and indeed his own crew were becoming a team again. His co-pilot could probably have his own plane now, while his radio operator was top notch. The navigator/bombardier although quite new, was almost redundant, flying in formation with the Chutai, everyone relied on the squadron leader’s aircraft, but he thought the boy could get them home if he had to. The two gunners, well he wasn’t expecting them to have anything to do, a year ago maybe, but these days it was uncontested.
The navigator gave him an update, about 200 miles to go before Chungking, and he looked out at the terrain below, the green foliage couldn’t hide the harshness of the Daba Mountains, an unforgiving land. Still another 50 miles and they’d be in the Szechwan Basin. The weather was looking good, not too much cloud, they could hope for a good fix on their target. Not that it mattered much though, they were carrying 50kg incendiary bombs, just hitting the city would suffice.
His radio operator leant forward, a message from Lt Col Kojiro, warning of the first adjustment, which would route them around a number of anti-aircraft batteries. His navigator agreed on the course change, well he would wouldn’t he, the signal flashed, and they turned. Another 15 minutes and a second adjustment, bringing them back on course. Time to reduce height now to a nice 12,000 ft, hold course and wait on the leader. Some tension was building now, they’d been told not to expect any enemy fighters, and were flying unescorted, so if there were some, now would be the time, but none appeared.
Some flak now, sporadic, ineffective, feeble, he must concentrate, maintain station, watch the leader. The leading Chutai was releasing their bombs, wait for it, the second Chutai’s turn now, not yet, keep an eye on the leader, as was his bombardier doing, no doubt, and now, bombs away. He felt the loss of weight through his controls, the plane rising before he brought her back on station. Below the incendiary bombs were starting indiscriminate fires among the mainly wooden buildings of the city. Another turn being signalled, and course adjusted, homeward leg.
The flak had long gone, as had all the talk about how well they had done, now it was the monotony of the flight back home. Chatter on the radio, a Type 97 Heavy Bomber was having engine failure, slowing down, on one engine now, the rest of her section staying with her. Hell, glad it wasn’t his section, nearly 400 miles still to go. He looked right and left, yes both his section aircraft were with him and flying fine. A relief came over him, stay in formation, follow the leader.
They were back, Yuncheng, home to the 60th Sentai, a few glasses of Saki, a nice hot bath, and a woman. Careful with the landing, he could see someone had made a bad landing, skid marks off to the left of the runway, the Ki-21 intact, but looking worse for wear, must have been a problem with a wheel. Easy does it, touch down, ooh a little bunny hop, and they were down, easing back now, taxiing over to their stand, the ground crew waiting for them. That’s it, engines off, mission completed, a milk run.