Now Japan had finally seen the devastation that could be achieved by the use of naval rocketry. Work on their own rocket engines had been feverishly advanced since that time, and a great deal of progress had been made, particularly when a cache of secret documents were mysteriously delivered from the Japanese embassy in Orenburg, a “gift” from Ivan Volkov. In them were detailed plans of models the Germans were currently working on, and suggestions for solving problems in the design of their own rockets, improving range, airframe design, aeronautic stability.
The one problem that would evade a solution was how such weapons could be guided to their intended targets. No mechanical solution could be found. The Germans were exploring avenues of research using radio controlled systems that might be guided to targets visually by a pilot in the plane that carried and launched their aerial flying dragons. So the Japanese also began to develop versions of a missile that would look very much like the German V-1 Buzz Bomb.
The Ohka was their version, and they were working on a host of variants, some that might be mounted on a Model 24J Bomber, the one the Allies called “Betty.” This was the Model 11, and it was powered by three Type 4 Mark 1 Model 20 solid fuel rockets. It would have limited range, making it necessary to use the bomber to carry the weapon within 20 nautical miles of the target, and the bomber could not fly off the deck of a carrier. While these liabilities made the Model 11 unsuitable for use by the Navy, the Japanese Air Force was keenly interested in it as a possible means of precision bombing, because the guidance problem had been solved another way—the Ohka would be designed to be guided by a pilot. That solution would later lead the Americans to dub the missile the “Buka,” which was the Japanese word for “stupid,” or “fool.”
Yet the men who would line up in Japan to volunteer to pilot those revolutionary craft were no stupid fools, but the brave souls who would come to be known in Japan as the Jinrai Butai, the Thunder Gods. A plan was already in the works to produce 750 of the Model 11 Ohka missiles, and there would be 750 men ready to pilot them, each one willing to give his life to deliver the weapon he controlled to its target. There, painted on the side of the fuselage of the Ohka, was the image of a cherry blossom, and when the Thunder Gods flew, their souls would fall like those fragile flowers when they died, but they would take many souls with them, or so it was believed.
For the Navy, the Model 22 Ohka seemed much more interesting. It would use a new engine, and have a much longer range. In fact, the Germans were planning to launch their own V-1s from France, flying them over the English Channel to hit targets all over England, and they could achieve a range of 250 Kilometers, delivering an 850kg warhead of Amatol. The Navy wanted a similar engine on the Okha, and Yamamoto knew exactly where he could find the blueprints—in the library of a most unusual ship that had come to him after that fateful and untimely eruption of Krakatoa off Java. While that explosive event had savaged Japanese troops ashore and at sea, it also delivered a new champion to the fleet, the strange men and their marvelous ship of war, the Takami.
They had told the Admiral they could defend the fleet with their own amazing radars and aerial rocket weapons, and even pose a challenge to the mysterious raider that had attacked Akagi and sunk the Hiryu. A plan had been hatched to launch an ambush when the Siberians boldly moved to invade northern Sakhalin Island, then called North Karafuto by the Japanese. One of Yamamoto’s most trusted Admirals, Kurita, led two of Japan’s fast new battleships north to escort Takami, and the carriers Tosa and Kaga joined to provide the air power.
Unfortunately, the plan failed, and now Takeo Kurita’s neck burned with shame as he came to report to Yamamoto, and explain why. He bowed low, a long and deep bow that would only be offered under such grave circumstances, and Yamamoto, knowing what was in the mind of his able officer, sat patiently until Kurita finally rose, eyes still averted, the shame a look of actual pain on his face. Then Yamamoto decided enough was enough.
“Very well,” he said. “I have seen, and quite clearly, that the mission recently concluded has not caused any more hair to grow on the top of that bald head of yours, Kurita. Make your report, but do not think, for a single moment, that I will entertain any thought of your resignation, and far less of any notion you may have of ending your life. You were sent to conduct an offensive operation, just as Nagumo was sent to Pearl Harbor, nothing more, nothing less. It so happens that both my warriors returned with casualties. So be it. Now tell me what happened.”
Kurita cleared his throat, taking some time to find his voice. “Sir,” he said. “The mission was not well coordinated, and I take full responsibility. I was prevailed upon to hold my battleships back, though I had every wish to close and engage this Mizuchi when it finally appeared. Yet this Captain Harada aboard Takami pleaded with me to refrain, and I was foolish enough to heed him. I should have advanced to engage when I saw how futile the strange rocket weapons he used were.”
“Futile? You saw them?”
“Of course. My battleships were out in front, some 20 miles ahead of the Takami. We first saw the enemy missiles firing, and my men beat to quarters to engage them.”
“Did you not heed the warning I gave you concerning these rockets?”
“I did sir, but I believed the armor on my ships was strong enough to prevail, and my gunners brave and skilled enough to defend my battleships. To do otherwise would be cowardice.”
“Yes, yes I have heard that from many others, and I do not wish to hear it again now. A man has a brave heart when he goes into any battle, but he must also have a head on his shoulders, and know when and how to fight. Did these missiles attack your ships?”
“One struck Hiraga, but for the most part, these rockets simply passed us by, six or seven in a long train, all heading south. I should have increased speed immediately to engage the enemy, but this Captain Harada…”
“You should have done no such thing. I sent you to the wreck of the Mutsu for a good reason, and now we have damage on Hiraga to repair. I will tell you that I second the movement suggested to you by Captain Harada, and it is very fortunate that you carried it out. Had you persisted in any attempt to engage this Mizuchi, you would have surely been visited by more of those naval rockets.”
“But sir, how can we defeat the enemy if we do not attack him?”
“That remains to be seen,” said Yamamoto. “Certainly Captain Harada hoped to use guile, and his own naval rockets to prevail. What happened to the air strike?”
“It was ill-coordinated. The carrier planes were late, the land based planes ineffective, and I must—”
“No Kurita, do not attempt to take that upon yourself either. It was the responsibility of the carrier commander to get his planes where they belonged, not yours. Frankly, when I discuss this further in a moment with your subordinate, Captain Harada, I expect I will learn that this battle could have ended in no other way. Everything depended on the rockets his ship carried. If they failed to find and hurt this Mizuchi, then there was nothing more your battleships were going to accomplish. At least both ships remain seaworthy, as well as both of our carriers. Hiraga has damage, but it will be repaired soon enough. Prepare your battleship squadron for further operations as soon as possible.”