Lords of the Sky: Fighter Pilots and Air Combat, from the Red Baron to the F-16 by Dan Hampton

Author:Dan Hampton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780062262103
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-06-24T04:00:00+00:00

THROUGH THE SEA breeze a mechanical bugle blared and the pilot looked up startled, a rice ball halfway to his mouth. Like angry ants, men poured from everywhere over the flight deck and ran toward waiting aircraft or anti-aircraft guns. Air attack . . . that was what the bugle was playing. Air attack. Jumping to his feet, Kaname Harada stared up and saw nothing. Then he squinted past the bow and saw little dark flecks appear against the lighter horizon band.

“Torpedo planes!” someone yelled over the noise. “Torpedo attack!”

Tossing his teacup overboard, the pilot sprinted to his waiting Reisen, clambered up the wing and plopped into the cockpit.* The ground crew already had the engine started and, ignoring the seat straps, he waved everyone back and held the brakes as the chocks were yanked out. Peering forward over the nose, Harada pushed the throttle up, and the fighter surged forward. His eyes were locked forward as his right hand checked the flaps down and switched on his guns.

Coming off the deck, the plane crabbed into the wind, and he held his takeoff pitch long enough to clear the carrier’s bow, then retracted the gear. As the Zero sank toward the sea he felt the propeller really bite into the air, and the fighter slowly rose. Slapping up the flaps, he leveled off for a few seconds to gain more airspeed. Glancing toward the attackers, he was shocked to see how close they were. Escort ships were firing now, and he could see black and white puffs exploding over the Americans. Beginning a wide turn, Harada waited until his wingmen were loosely joined, then he began to climb. Eyes narrowed, he realized he wouldn’t have to go too high—the Yankees were skimming the wave tops.

Hold it . . . hold it . . . He bunted slightly and began a gentle turn, gauging the intercept geometry from long experience. He could plainly see them now. They were the newer American torpedo bombers, big and ugly, like a bumblebee, with blue paint and bright white stars. The Avenger, made by Grumman, with a three-man crew.

Now . . .

Yanking back on the stick, Hamada flipped the nimble little fighter over and sliced down toward the lumbering planes. His two wingmen repositioned and floated into single file behind him. Leaving the throttle up, he lightly played the stick and rudder to swoop in from above. The Avenger had an enclosed ball turret, and as it started to swivel Harada opened fire with a three-second burst. His two cowling-mounted machine guns instantly spewed out a stream of fifty 7.7 mm shells, and the wings shuddered from the recoil of the bigger 20 mm cannons. Pieces flew off the other plane, but the American had banked up and his tail gunner was firing.

Yanking the stick back into his lap, Harada grunted and barrel-rolled the fighter up and over the torpedo bombers. Inverted, staring down at the blue water, he saw his second wingman firing and made a snap decision.

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