Miss Fukai appeared to like each of us, though in different ways. In other words, she was vaguely attracted to these brave naval aviation officers with a scholarly air about them. Rationally speaking, I don’t want any woman to like me based on an overestimation of my character, and emotionally speaking, she is not exactly my type anyway, though she is certainly beautiful and sweet. So I feigned ignorance of her affections throughout our acquaintance. Yoshino, however, still pines for her, even four months after our leaving Izumi. I know this perfectly well, as I have watched him closely ever since I became convinced of his feelings while we were still at Izumi. He would never admit it, because he believes he is going to crash into the enemy and die, but he broods over Miss Fukai most unhandsomely, whenever he is alone. In any case, it’s not as if I were giving away to a friend a woman I really love. Instead, I’m just a backseat driver, I suppose. Anyway, I wanted somebody else to know about this, in case the roll of the dice leaves Yoshino alive and me dead. And if the match should be made through the good offices of Professor E., that would be highly desirable. Indeed, perfect. And if there really is another world beneath the sod, I shall be watching the couple from there, with satisfaction. That is why I’m asking you to keep this in mind.
With best wishes. I will post this letter tomorrow, the 24th, in Beppu, during our excursion.
Usa Naval Air Station
January 25 (Continued from Yoshino’s diary)
Our training flights resumed today.
We use alcohol fuel, which takes considerable nerve. I tossed and turned last night, my sleep interrupted frequently by dreams. No doubt anxiety about the fuel is at the bottom of it.
A number of carrier attack bombers and carrier bombers are making trial runs in front of the field headquarters. Three Type-96 carrier bombers particularly got into my brain, as they kept up a good roar right nearby. I had to endure a constant pressure in my head, which grew heavy, as if I were holding the whole world on top of it. It wasn’t much of a thrill.
Mutual flight. I climbed into the rear seat of Ensign W.’s plane. Truly, it’s been a long while since I last flew. The cloud index was eight. The wind was strong, with a velocity of some ten meters per second, and the direction shifted frequently from west to northwest, and then to the north. But how rusty my skills are! First, I forgot about the flap. I couldn’t attend to the tabs. The winds only made matters worse. The plane bounced up and down and waggled, speed fluctuating wildly. I got nauseated. How pathetic! It wasn’t just me, though.
“The damn thing wouldn’t go my way! I had no idea I’d so completely lost my touch!” That’s about all you heard as everyone tottered out of the planes, quite beside themselves. I asked what route they took, but no one seemed to have the slightest idea. We were all soundly rebuked, but I really wish the officers wouldn’t lecture us about our deteriorating performance when they’ve kept us grounded for two and a half months. The recon students enjoy two flights a day, morning and evening, and on regular fuel, too, while we carrier attack bombers attached to the special attack force fly every other day, and on alcohol. Nobody blinks at this bizarre state of affairs. It is not fair to compare our skills to theirs. But we will catch up to them, alcohol fuel or no. And we will learn enough to take us to the place where we mean to die.
Had a bath at 1900. The water was good and hot. I scrubbed my body with soap, which I haven’t done for some time. As I got out, I gazed into the mirror and found myself looking pretty grave. You cocky bastard, loosen up a little! I said to myself, and I made some silly faces, pulling my cheeks, and poking out my lips, until my clownish mug made me a little melancholy. I heard somebody laughing. Through the bathroom window I could see the moon, hanging warped in the sky. I ate an orange, smoked a Hikari, and finished a leftover soda, and then sank into a sound sleep.
February 1
Flew in the morning. I’m beginning to get a sense of the air again. The winds were light. The thin, silver line of the Yakkan River, the Sea of Suo, the Kunisaki Peninsula, Beppu Bay off to the south—it all looked hazy, giving me the feeling of spring. I’ve managed to make a bit of room in my heart to enjoy the bird’s-eye view. The rain came in this afternoon, putting an end to flights for the day. It kept up well into the night.
During the course on combat tactics we learned that the Ginga turned out to be pretty useless, falling well short of expectations. It was a real letdown. The Type-1 land-based attack bomber earned the nickname “Cigar” for its shape, but nowadays, seeing as how it so readily catches fire, everybody just calls it a “Match.” But even so, some Ginga crews purportedly say they prefer the Type-1, as their plane has proved so difficult to maintain and is forever getting them into accidents. This account accords with what we so often witnessed at Izumi.
The U.S. has occupied the air base at Clark Field, north of Manila, and at the end of January a total of some two hundred enemy warships and transports arrived at this strategic zone in the Philippines. I doubt whether we actually have two hundred aircraft left in all the Philippines. The situation is such that even if every single Japanese plane plunges into an enemy vessel and sinks it, we are still outnumbered. They say we now possess fewer than five aircraft carriers, and this figure includes our smaller auxiliary carriers. None of them ever puts out to sea, though, as fuel has to be conserved, and the crews have yet to complete their training. Only a few weeks ago we sat through a lecture on carrier takeoff and landing protocols. At the time I thought the lecture pointless, and indeed, the navy is shot through with hit-or-miss training and willy-nilly strategies. America is said to possess some eighty aircraft carriers, and they are about to commission three new forty-five thousand ton class vessels capable of carrying medium attack bombers. Well, we will mark out a line of defense along the shore of mainland Japan, and there we will annihilate the enemy, at a blow; we no longer need any aircraft carriers. That’s the logic on our side, but it all sounds like sour grapes to me. I hear our Japanese comrades are struggling to complete air bases in Formosa and in southern Kyushu, but with hoes and pickaxes they are making extremely slow progress, whereas the U.S. military can complete the same task in three days using its bulldozers and dump trucks. Also, I hear the signs indicate that a major enemy task force will advance toward mainland Japan within two weeks. As for our situation, it looks like mass production of the Ryusei, the Shiden, and the Renzan won’t get into gear until May or June.
“When May rolls around they’ll probably tell us ‘not until July or August,”’ the tactics instructor said, spilling the beans, evidently half in despair. He spared us the usual talk about “that’s why you must steel yourself with do-or-die resolution, blah-blah-blah.” Felt all the more uncanny for it.