Since delayed fuses were installed in our armor-piercing bombs, they emitted white smoke when they hit the upper deck.
At this point in time, just as the first wave attack was almost ending, the second wave squadron of 167 planes, led by Lieutenant Commander Shigekazu Shimazaki, was joining the battle.
While I had the first wave squadrons return to their mother ships, my plane alone from the first wave remained in the sky above Pearl Harbor. My role was to provide battle instructions to the second wave squadrons as well as to provide surveillance of our achievements in battle.
Shimazaki reached Kahuku Point at 8:40 AM and gave the command for deployment. At 8:54, he gave the command to attack.
Upon this command of attack, 78 dive bombers led by Lieutenant Commander Egusa rushed to join forces from the east of Pearl Harbor. At that time, Pearl Harbor was covered with black smoke, and this hindered our visibility. Fearless Egusa started to dive against the funnel of concentrated anti-aircraft barrages shooting up through the black smoke. As he came down through the smoke, he could clearly see the ship which was firing at him, and then he bombed it. There is a proverb that says, “The pheasant would not be shot but for its cries.”
If the enemy ships had not been shooting at him, it would have meant that those silent ships were already damaged. Egusa’s method under fire was to aim at undamaged ones. It worked perfectly and did not duplicate the first wave attack.
While the main force of the level bombing squadron, 54 planes under Shimazaki’s direct command, attacked Hickam Airfield, some of them attacked hangars on Ford Island and Kaneohe. The bombing altitude was 1,500 meters and under the clouds. It was a miracle that not a single plane was lost flying at this low altitude and enduring such fierce anti-aircraft fire. Nevertheless, close to half—more than 20 planes—were hit and needed repairs, leaving them unusable for repeat attacks.
The first wave of the air superiority squadron, led by Lieutenant Commander Itaya, secured control of the sky above Oahu. Then, the second wave of 35 planes led by Lieutenant Saburo Shindo moved to strafe each air base and achieve more of our battle objectives.
The first point of my role as General Commander was to give proper battle instructions in order to avoid having our forces attack the same targets twice. Without battle commands, the squadrons would be tempted to concentrate on the same targets, leaving some untouched. Therefore, I instructed them to exert maximum battle performance by directing the attack all around with equal attention. The second point was to make an accurate surveillance of our battle achievements. If reported battle achievements were based on incorrect surveillance, the result could be misjudgments of the enemy’s capabilities in battles to follow.
The first and second waves were finished. I stayed alone in the sky above Pearl Harbor for three hours in the lead plane, exhausting all my energies giving battle instructions and conducting surveillance of the post-battle situation.
In terms of my surveillance, the achievements of our attack could not be easily discerned due to time constraints. Except for the sunken Arizona and capsized Oklahoma, I could not tell whether the other ships were sunk or not, while they were certainly burning. Here the shallow waters were merely 12 meters deep. If a battleship with a 7-meter draft should sink, it will descend only 5 meters before it reaches the bottom of the sea, not any further. Seeing Pearl Harbor from above, it was just like pouring water in a frog’s face.
Next, we focused on confirming the battle results concerning the destruction of the enemy’s air power. I looked around each air base. Every one of them was engulfed in billowing black smoke. But I knew perfectly well that a gasoline fire exaggerates the burned landscape, so that the impression is of total destruction. As I looked carefully trying not to be deceived, I failed to reach any hard conclusions. However, I judged that we had destroyed the enemy’s entire air capability based on the fact that not a single enemy plane dared to intercept us above Pearl Harbor for as long as three hours.
As the battle had tentatively come to an end, I decided to return to the mother ship. The flight range of our Type 97 Carrier Attack Bomber was five hours, and we had already flown four and one-half hours. By simple calculation, we would not make it to the mother ship in another 30 minutes. But we were at war, and I felt somehow that we would return safely.
It was 10:30 AM. I said, “Matsuzaki, we will head back. Take the return course of 10 degrees.”
And I was still searching for possible targets during our return. We had to hit surviving cruisers and auxiliary ships like destroyers and submarines, but above all else, I felt that it was essential to smash as many oil tanks and shipyard repair facilities as possible.
As we were about to leave Oahu, a fighter approached us with a friendly sign, banked and followed us. I asked, “Whose plane is that?”
As I looked back, Mizuki, who must have been looking at it for a while, responded, “It belongs to Zuikaku.” If it was a fighter from the Zuikaku, it belonged to the first attack wave. What a long time the plane has been flying, I thought. Then, I thought that it was possible that there were other stray fighters around.
“Matsuzaki, we’ll make one more round to pick up stray kids.”
It was clear that Matsuzaki was worried about how much fuel we had left for our return, but he could not ignore an order from his commander.
That day, the gathering point for returning to pick up stray air fighters was Kahuku Point. The General Commander’s plane rounded the point and found, as suspected, another stray fighter. I successfully returned to the mother ship, leading these two fighters. However, the Senior Petty Officer of Maintenance told me, “Commander, you had no fuel left. It was a big risk that you did not return earlier. Besides, it was dangerous because the control wire was almost completely severed.”
I responded, “We are at war. It will fly even if the control wire is cut.”
The maintenance crews listening to the conversation must have thought that the General Commander was insane. They were right. I was, in fact, a crazy officer with a burning desire to serve my country.
21
Lions Retreat After Attack is
Accomplished
As we touched down on the Akagi, the air crews waiting impatiently for my return rushed to welcome me. I was putting together the report of the battle results in the launch command center witnessed by my commanders—including Lieutenant Commander Murata of the torpedo bombing squadron, Lieutenant Commander Itaya and Lieutenant Shindo of the air superiority squadrons, Lieutenant Furukawa of the level bombing squadron and Lieutenant Chihaya of the dive bombing squadron—when there was an urgent and impatient request from the bridge: “Commander Fuchida, come to the bridge quickly.”
I went up to the bridge as I had no choice, leaving the report of the battle results until later. As soon as he saw me, Commander Nagumo abruptly and eagerly asked me, “How did the battle go?”
These were the points that I was just now analyzing with my officers. Under the situation, I was able to report only what I myself had seen.
“Yes, Sir. It is certain that four enemy battleships were sunk. The remaining four ships were badly damaged. I believe that they will not be able to mobilize from Pearl Harbor for the time being. I think we have annihilated the enemy’s air power. In addition, each air base was blanketed with fierce black smoke that interfered with my surveillance of the battle area. But due to the fact that not a single enemy plane showed up to counterattack us during my three hours in the air, I believe that air superiority belongs to us. The enemy anti-aircraft fire reacted much more quickly than expected, beginning less than five minutes after the start of our attack. I believe that they were prepared for war.”
Nagumo, who was nodding keenly as I reported, expressed his appreciation when I finished: “Commander, well done.”
He looked at Chief of Staff Kusaka to inquire if he had anything else he wanted to ask me, to which the Chief of Staff winked at me with a gesture indicating that I should retire and relax
. I saluted and returned to the launch command center.
On the flight deck, preparations were taking place for a second repeat attack. The planes that had refueled and replenished their ammunition were lifted to the deck by elevator and were lined up at their takeoff positions.
I was standing by for the next attack, eating a rice dumpling with bean paste—our standard battle food.
Real Admiral Tamon Yamaguchi, Commander of the Second Aviation Fleet, sent a signal from his flagship, the Soryu, to the Akagi: “Soryu and Hiryu are ready for takeoff.
This was implicitly a demand to expedite the start of the second attack. The Akagi herself was nearing completion of the work required for her planes to takeoff.
Then, a course signal was raised on the Akagi’s mast. The signal indicated that we would return on the route we had just followed. I was upset and thought, “What stupidity!” But the decision belonged to the Commander. It would not do any good if I complained. However, it was Kusaka’s principle that “Lions retreat once they have accomplished their attack.”
It was well known that Kusaka had immersed himself in studies of Zen Buddhism. We teased him about the Zen of Self-Deception, but he was serious about it. He was so serious that he adopted the lions story as his guiding principle. According to the story, the lion, once having given a full-force blow to its enemy, quickly turns to the next enemy, without any further thought or consideration, and takes a ready-to-pounce position to attack the next target with all its might.
This is the principle behind “Lions retreat once they have accomplished their attack.”
Later, after the attack, Kusaka said that, “We have now accomplished the purpose of our operation by attacking Pearl Harbor and annihilating the US Pacific Fleet. Any further attempt to attack oil tanks or repair facilities at the naval shipyard is nothing but the hindsight of fools.”
The situational judgment of Commander Nagumo to abandon a second-wave attack on Pearl Harbor and, instead, to take the return course of action, was as follows:
1. By the first air attack, the original aim has been mostly accomplished. We can hardly expect significant increases in battle achievements if we dare to initiate the second air attack.
2. Even in the first air attack, the enemy defensive fire started quickly, nearly resulting in a no-surprise assault. The second and following air attack will become a pure assault with significant increase in casualties in proportion to the additional expected battle achievements.
3. Judging from the enemy’s communications, it is certain that there remain at least 50 large enemy planes. Besides, location and condition of the enemy aircraft carriers, heavy cruisers, submarines and others are not known.
4. On the other hand, in view of the situation in which search beyond 250 nautical miles is difficult for us, as such search is dependent exclusively on the surveillance by advance groups of submarines, it is disadvantageous to stay so far from our bases in the enemy flight zone.
On the basis of the above situational judgment the Task Force Fleet decided to disengage without making a repeat attack.
I was totally against this judgment. The essence of military action is momentum. I thought that this was the exact time to exploit our battle advantage. I could not do anything if the Commander decided to return because he was satisfied with the battle results, but if we are returning anyway, why should we take the same course back? I recommended to the Commander that we take the central course, straight instead, as this might give us an opportunity to encounter two enemy aircraft carriers at sea.
However, Commander Nagumo did not have much faith in our search capability. This was certainly one of our mistakes. Back in those days, the heads of Japanese naval aviation downgraded the role and usefulness of surveillance, instead placing importance on attack capabilities. They simply thought that any plane able to fly would be suitable for surveillance as well, and surveillance was regarded as routine practice for any aviator.
However, at the outbreak of the Pacific War, this defective reasoning was clearly exposed. Surveillance requires even more skill and is more difficult than fighting, and unless special-purpose reconnaissance planes are developed and special training provided, reconnaissance crews with the required capabilities can never be developed.
Unfortunately, at the time of the Pearl Harbor attack, we were still at the stage where surveillance was not given high priority, and we failed to win the full trust of the Commander. And the result was that, instead of the central course, we took the same northerly route to return.
22
Audience with the Emperor
On December 23, 1941 (hereafter, Tokyo time), the Nagumo Task Force Fleet returned to Japanese waters. As we entered Bungo Strait, each carrier’s squadron landed at the bases where they trained before the mission. I flew to Kagoshima Base, leading the level bombing and torpedo bombing squadrons of the Akagi. As I stepped down from the commander’s plane, a junior high student ran up to me. Then, he took out a piece of paper and started reading out loud. It was something like a resolution of appreciation. He was the representative of a commercial school near Kagoshima Air Field, and I noticed many students from the school—even students from a nearby girls’ school—lining up near the apron to welcome us.
I was surprised as I thought, “Who on earth could have known that we were the squadrons responsible for the attack on Pearl Harbor?” That should have been a top secret.
However, the citizens of Kagoshima City had been watching our extended acrobatic practice before the mission. If our preparation had taken place today, there would have been a number of noise pollution lawsuits, with the big complaints arguing that the loud noise was preventing patients from being cured and stopping chickens from laying eggs.
And even back then, there was criticism: “What the hell are they doing? Recently, naval aviation squadrons are neglecting all military rules.” At the wharf during training, the planes buzzed the rooftops while engaged in simulated torpedo launching at low altitudes of 10 meters, aiming at a target in shallow water 500 meters away. It appeared to be sheer madness. Therefore, when they heard the news of the great victory of the Battle of Hawaii, every citizen of Kagoshima guessed our squadrons were involved.
That night, among those of us who had returned to Kagoshima Base, the Governor of Kagoshima Prefecture invited the officers to a celebration party, and the Mayor of Kagoshima City invited petty officers and sailors to a separate party.
While we were drinking that night at a Japanese restaurant called Aoyagi, there was a call from the base with a message ordering Commander Fuchida and Lieutenant Commander Murata to return to the mother ship, where we were to receive Admiral Yamamoto of the Combined Fleet and the Chief of the General Staff Nagano and others who would visit the Akagi. The message said that if we flew early in the morning from Kagoshima to Iwakuni, they would arrange for a motor boat to pick us up at the Iwakuni Base pier.
“Bussan, they sent a troubling message,” I said to Murata.
He replied, “We have no choice. I will fly the plane, and the General Commander can sleep in the rear seat.”
And so it was that the two of us—suffering from hangovers—flew from Kagoshima to the base at Iwakuni, and returned to the Akagi aboard the waiting motor boat.
The time was already past 11:00 in the morning. Yamamoto, Nagano, and the Head of the Aviation Division, Eikichi Katagiri, were already present and about to propose a toast in the officers’ mess following a speech by Yamamoto to the commanders of each of the Task Force Fleet’s units and a greeting by Nagano. As we arrived, Murata and I were pulled to the front where Yamamoto and Nagano greeted us with words of appreciation, followed by another round of toasts, accompanied by chestnuts and squid.
On this occasion, Admiral Yamamoto gave me a piece of calligraphy that he had prepared with his writing brush, and he commented that it represented his state of mind regarding the moment. The writing flowed beautifully and read:
The thunderous radio broadcast
of the attack
From the sky of Hawaii, 3,000 nautical miles away
December 8, 1941
The brilliant action of Commander Fuchida
Isoroku Yamamoto
Afterwards, Nagano issued an order. “On December 26th, Commander Fuchida, leader of the first wave air attack, and Lieutenant Commander Shimazaki, commander of the second wave attack, are to report directly to the Throne, to His Majesty the Generalissimo, on the battle developments of Pearl Harbor.”
A report to the Throne by officers of commander rank was unprecedented. This was an honor beyond anything that I deserved, and I consulted Genda on how to prepare for the presentation. It was decided that I would report on our attack on the ships and Shimazaki on the attack on the air bases, and we would organize our presentations accordingly.
I asked Murata to draw a layout of the attack on the ships and asked Chief Navigation Officer Miura to have his signalmen make a good-quality copy. The signalmen, wearing white gloves as it would be honored by the Emperor’s inspection, produced a fine copy.
On December 25th, both Shimazaki and I flew from Kure Aviation Base to Yokosuka Base on a carrier bomber. When we arrived, we were received by Captain Keizo Ueno, Commander of the Yokosuka Air Squadrons, and it was only this officer who criticized the battle achievements. His point of criticism was it was not good to have left the enemy aircraft carriers unattacked and intact. Now, here was a real naval aviation pro. I quite agreed with him.
For That One Day: The Memoirs of Mitsuo Fuchida, Commander of the Attack on Pearl Harbor Page 11