His radio crackled. He was ordered to fly in a new direction where the cowardly American carriers were supposed to be hiding. He looked at his fuel gauge. He fervently hoped that the Americans weren’t too far away, and, with equal fervor, hoped that he’d have a place to land his plane. All he saw now were burning Japanese carriers and the wide ocean.
Dane wondered if everyone else on the Saratoga felt as naked and exposed as he did. Almost all the carrier’s planes had gone to attack the enemy carriers, with only a couple in the air to warn of oncoming Japanese.
Radio traffic told of several enemy carriers burning and dead in the water. He recalled one pilot from the Battle of the Coral Sea exulting, “scratch one flattop,” a phrase that had become immortalized. How many flattops had been scratched this time and how many remained unscratched? How was the battle over the Baja going? The two battleships and the destroyer screen sailed in front of the two carriers as a buffer, but how many Jap planes might find them? All the Japs had to do was figure out which direction the American planes had come from and fly back up that way. Jesus, talk about your fog of battle.
Once again Dane was agonizing over Amanda’s safety. The bombardment of San Diego and Los Angeles, obviously designed to draw off American planes, was over. Was she okay? At least she was in a hospital, but did the damned Japs care about that? Hell, maybe they couldn’t even see a red cross at long range.
A terse announcement said that enemy aircraft were approaching. So much for being invisible, he thought.
Masao saw the two American carriers at the same time the other Japanese pilots did. There was no time to organize a proper attack. The pilots were on their own. Once again, he checked his fuel. He sucked in his breath. If the gauge was even remotely accurate, there was little possibility of him making it back to the fleet, if any of it even still existed. The battle had become a horror. Instead of another magnificent Japanese victory, it was clear from what he’d seen and heard that the empire’s carriers were being destroyed and with them any real chance of Japanese victory in this war. Toki was right. It was all turning into ashes. He had said he was willing to die for the empire, but not uselessly and most certainly not without taking Americans with him. Now Masao knew what he had to do.
Masao flew over the first carrier, quickly identified her as the Saratoga, and dropped his bomb. It missed the ship by a hundred yards, confirming that it was very difficult to hit a moving target, however large.
He cursed and moaned. He would never see his family again. He hoped there was an afterlife so they could all be reunited. He didn’t even care if silly Toki married his equally silly little sister. It would serve them both right. Maybe they would have a boy child and name him Masao. He prayed that would happen.
Masao only had a few moments left. American planes chasing him and his companions were gaining rapidly. He climbed for altitude, turned, and began his dive. His ashes would never be sent to the Yasukoni shrine, but his parents had hair and nail clippings. They would have to do.
“Banzai!” he howled as the Saratoga’s bulk grew larger in his eyes.
Dane and Merchant watched in helpless horror as the Japanese plane plummeted down and toward them. Tracers from a score of antiaircraft guns sought it out, but most missed. Those that did hit tore pieces from its wings and fuselage, damaging it, shaking it and maybe even killing it and its pilot, but not stopping its deadly plunge.
“He’s killing himself,” Merchant yelled. “You’re right about them, Dane. They’re all crazy!”
The dying Zero smashed into the flight deck near the bow of the carrier. Even though the suicide plane was almost out of fuel, there was enough to cause a large explosion.
Dane had thrown himself prone and felt heat and debris fly over him. Something heavy landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. All around him, men were yelling and screaming. Was this going to be the sinking of the Enterprise all over again? If so, where was Spruance? Wasn’t he supposed to rescue the admiral? He couldn’t think straight. Something was terribly wrong.
Tim pushed himself to his hands and knees and vomited. His body wasn’t responding and he collapsed. What was happening? He looked for Merchant and saw him lying near. A large piece of metal protruded from his chest and the expression on his face was blank and lifeless.
Tim felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Spruance. “I’ll help you again, sir,” Tim managed to say. His voice was mushy and it sounded as if it came from another room rather than from his own body.
Spruance smiled kindly. “This time it’s my turn to take care of you, Dane.”
Tim was dimly aware that he was being put on a stretcher. He knew he was hurt, but why didn’t he feel any pain? “Are we sinking?”
The admiral had gone to check on others, so the medic responded. “Sinking? Not a chance, Commander. Damage control is doing its job. There wasn’t any problem with our hull and the fires are coming under control. Like you, we’ll need some good repairs, but we’ll be all right.”
Tim wanted to ask some more questions, but the medic had jabbed him with morphine. He fought it for a moment, but decided it was far better and nicer to let it do its job.
“Abandon ship.” The command was repeated until it stopped abruptly. The electricity on the Kaga had just gone out. Toki fully understood that the flames had won. The mighty carrier was in its death throes. Explosions rocked her and flames billowed skyward. The rumblings of more explosions from below deck made the Kaga seem like she was alive, not dying.
Abandon ship or be burned alive were Toki’s choices. He had already donned his life vest, so, looking down at the ocean and hoping that he wouldn’t be sucked into the carrier’s still-spinning propellers, and praying that he’d be picked up, he jumped.
Hitting the sea felt like hitting a wall. He blacked out and came to with a number of others from the carrier, some swimming and others flailing desperately. An empty life raft floated by. He grabbed onto it and climbed in. He offered his hand to several others still in the water, but only a couple joined him. The rest shook their heads solemnly and a couple managed to say they’d rather die than live with the shame of defeat.
One of the men with him said he too would join the others in dying if it appeared they would be rescued by Americans. Toki didn’t know what he would do. Overhead, the once-invincible Zeros circled and then, one by one, crashed in the ocean. The planes soon disappeared under the water and no pilots emerged. Toki visualized this happening all over the battle area. He knew he would never see his friend Masao again and he mourned for him, but only for an instant. Now he just wanted to live and go home to his family and Masao’s little sister.
After a few hours, he and the two others were alone. But then they weren’t. A destroyer maneuvered slowly through the waters, its crew searching and looking. They were spotted and the ship came close enough for them to see that it was an American. Toki’s companions moaned and slid off the raft and into the sea. They gasped and bobbed a few times and then disappeared.
Toki made up his mind. Only fools chose death when life was at hand. They had killed themselves for no good reason. He stood and waved a handkerchief that he hoped was white enough. With the skill of a dancer, the destroyer was maneuvered beside him. A row of armed Americans stared down at him.