East Wind Returns

by Grasso, William Peter

  “Thank you, baby. I really mean that.”

  “Thank me better,” Marge replies, leading him by the hand out of the mess tent.

  Watching them leave, the knowing smile returns to Nancy’s face once again. She turns to the flight surgeon standing next to her and asks, “Hey, Doc, buy a girl a drink?”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  November 1945

  Colonel Ozawa and Major Watanabe look with satisfaction at their handiwork. The cave sheltering Professor Inaba’s nuclear device and the railroad tracks leading to it are well concealed. This had been no small feat, considering the attention the area had received lately from American aircraft. They relax inside the cave and listen to the field wireless set, tuned to Radio Tokyo, waiting for a message.

  Eastward across the Pacific, 30 troop ships and their escorts set sail from Pearl Harbor, carrying two “green” divisions, one Army, one Marine, to their invasion rendezvous point off the Marianas. More troop ships idle at the Marianas to embark the two veteran Marine divisions waiting there. On northern Luzon, still more ships await General Krueger’s 6th Army.

  Further east across the Pacific, at a naval shipyard in San Francisco Bay, Doctor Oppenheimer’s atomic bomb is being loaded onto a US Navy warship for delivery to Tinian, the Marianas.

  Further eastward still, in Washington, D.C., General Marshall informs President Truman that the war plan known as Operation Olympic, the invasion of southern Japan, has commenced. In addition, Marshall informs the President that their atomic bomb is being transported to an air base in the Marianas.

  In the Imperial Palace, Tokyo, Prime Minister Suzuki stands at a window and looks despondently across the burned-out heart of Tokyo. Today, the Imperial War Council learned their once vaunted Kwangtung Army has been pushed out of Manchuria by the Russians, who have advanced into northern Korea. While the Russians still do not possess the capacity to attack across the Sea of Japan, the Japanese troops in East Asia are now totally cut off from the home islands, spelling an end to the Japanese domination of mainland Asia. The Emperor and the military leaders still refuse to consider surrender.

  And the Americans will come very soon.

  Major John Worth and his three-plane section had flown high-altitude missions almost constantly for the past week, using every hour of daylight, each plane scouting a different area of southern Kyushu, but they had not sighted or photographed the suspected device again. The other two pilots in John’s section had not been told they were on a special mission from theater headquarters, although the repetitious sorties they have flown for the past week, covering nothing but rail routes, made them suspect the brass were looking for something specific.

  As the Intelligence boys poured over the latest photos, eyes glued to the magnifiers perched above, Colonel Watkins thought to himself:

  Did they get the damn thing off Kyushu? Why would they do that? Where would it go?

  Admiral Nimitz had been wondering the same thing. He still harbored a fear the Japanese would try to use their bomb against a naval target, probably mounted on a suicide submarine. He had reaffirmed his order that the Navy’s air recon units concentrate their efforts against any vessels, especially submarines, found in the ports and waters around Kyushu. There had been little new maritime activity to report, however.

  At MacArthur’s headquarters, speculation of all sorts was rampant. Rumors had abounded of Kamikaze attacks planned against airfields and ports on Okinawa, the Philippines, and the Marianas, just like the September attack on Buckner Bay. Moreover, Intelligence had deduced that three Betty bombers, shot down over the sea recently by a Navy combat air patrol, had in fact been carrying suicide sappers for a sneak attack on a B-29 base in the Marianas. Apparently, their plan was to crash-land on an airfield amongst the parked American bombers and have each sapper blow up an aircraft and himself in the process. It was only luck that the Navy patrol had stumbled onto them. News of this prospect made the normally lax ground crews in the Marianas suddenly interested in carrying their weapons at all times. Even the flight crews started wearing their side arms when not flying.

  At breakfast one morning, Marge says, “The invasion must be getting real close, baby. The hospital received its ready orders for the move to Kyushu last night, and you’ve been flying more than ever. Whatever it is they’ve got you doing, it must be terribly important. I can see how it’s weighing on you. I wish you’d let me in. You know you can trust me, don’t you? Maybe I can help you deal with it?”

  “Marge, I can’t. I’ve got orders from the big brass, and you’ve got enough on your mind already.”

  Yeah…like how to keep from going off my rocker after you get yourself killed.

  As they walk from the mess tent to the hospital, Marge asks, “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

  “Like I said, baby, I can’t. We are in the Army, you know. You do understand how these things work?”

  “Don’t be stupid. Of course I understand!” Tears begin to flow down Marge’s cheeks. “I don’t want to go to Japan…you know we’ll get split up…I don’t want to be without you…and I don’t want to go home with just a memory of this wonderful dead guy I was in love with.”

  “Do you think I want any of those things? Honey, the only person I worry about more than me is you! But I’ve got to do my job.”

  They walk, saying nothing, as she resigns herself once more. It is Marge who finally breaks the silence. “Why won’t this fucking war just end?”

  At the wire fence surrounding the nurses’ quarters, they kiss goodbye, and John once again promises, “I’ll be back.”

  And Marge once again answers, “You’d better, Farm Boy. I mean it.”

  Today’s mission does not start well. During the pre-dawn takeoff, First Lieutenant Lawrence “Rowdy” Chambers, of Lubbock, Texas, flying Number 36, strikes something with his nose gear, probably a wandering dog desperate for something to eat. He gets airborne and the gear seems to retract normally, but the rushing air noise that develops indicates the nose gear door is not properly closed. As airspeed increases, a vibration begins as well. Rowdy is a good flyer but does not have much time in the F-5. He doesn’t want to abort his mission, though; he doesn’t know what he is supposed to be looking for, but he is determined to find it.

  Over the radio, John asks Rowdy to watch his fuel consumption. John maneuvers f-stop below and to the right of Rowdy’s plane, but it is too dark to determine the condition of the nose gear door. The extra drag of an unfaired door might cause increased burn and fuel exhaustion before the planned end of the mission. When the sun comes up in about an hour, he would be able to make a better assessment.

  Fifteen minutes after takeoff, the other pilot in John’s section, Captain Paul “Frenchy” Laroix, of Montpelier, Vermont, flying Number 42, announces he must abort due to electrical problems. He has to use his flashlight to read the instruments still functioning: altimeter, airspeed indicator, compass, and artificial horizon. They require electricity only for background lighting; he needs to conserve the remaining battery power for propeller control. He should have just enough juice to get back to Kadena, although he will be landing in the dark, without lights. The entire scope of this mission will now fall to John and Rowdy, assuming Rowdy’s aircraft can continue.

  When the sun rises, John instructs Rowdy to maintain altitude while he slides f-stop beneath Number 36 to observe the troublesome nose gear door.

  “OK, Rowdy, the leading edge of the door’s bent a little…sticking into the airstream. The bottom edge looks rumpled, too. Shouldn’t be any trouble extending for landing, though. How’s your fuel consumption look?”

  Chambers replies in his booming Texas voice, “It looks OK, boss, but my legs are getting a little numb from the vibration. I’ll be fine, though. Do you think the vibration will mess up the cameras?” Rowdy normally speaks so loudly you would not think he would need the radio to communicate in flight.

  “Maybe,” John replies, “but they are shock
mounted. They can probably handle it. If you’ve got enough gas, you can always slow down and try extending the gear for critical shots…that may eliminate the vibes. Hold still…I’m coming up on your right now.”

  “Roger, boss!”

  As the two planes pass between Yaku-shima and Tane-ga-shima, John splits up the area Frenchy would have covered, giving half to Rowdy and revising his own flight plan to include the remaining half. Rowdy’s fuel consumption looks acceptable; they should both have enough gas for the extra flying with no problem. A few minutes later, they separate to begin their respective camera runs.

  John would fly the southeastern section of Kyushu, Rowdy would take the southwest. Their coverage will overlap the central area, from the head of Kagoshima Bay to Miyakanojo. Rowdy will fly over it at the beginning of his run; John’s run will end there. This is the most suspect area, the last area the device had been seen. It needed all the coverage they could manage; by now, the recon pilots knew that ground intimately.

  US Army and Navy aircraft are busy all over Kyushu. Emphasis in these final days before the invasion has returned to neutralizing the Japanese airfields: over 30 on southern Kyushu alone have been identified and hit repeatedly by bombers and fighters of both services. The number of aircraft on these fields does not seem to diminish, however. It is presumed that aircraft continue to be flown from the northern home islands under cover of darkness as the Japanese prepare for a last ditch effort to defeat the invasion forces, sacrificing the defenses of the other home islands to protect Kyushu from the imminent threat. Admiral Spruance’s battleships and cruisers sit off the eastern coast at night, doing their part to pummel the airfields within range of their heavy guns, but yet the Japanese air arms still persist in great numbers.

  Rowdy has gotten used to the vibration from the damaged nose gear door, regularly stamping his feet to alleviate the numbness it causes in his feet, ankles, and knees. The ground fire he receives seems heavier than usual, but he figures the Japs know the invasion is imminent and have heightened their defenses. His plane receives no hits, though. He prays the vibrations are not ruining his photos.

  Near Sendai, as Rowdy approaches the western edge of his search area, the sky is full of broken cloud layers. He descends to get below the clouds and suddenly finds himself in a swarm of fighters, some Japanese, some US Navy.

  “Wrong place, wrong time!” Rowdy’s West Texas twang booms to no one in particular.

  The other aircraft seem so close that his biggest worry is not bullets but collisions. Most of those planes are going in the opposite direction, appearing as little more than blue, green, or brown blurs as they whiz past. He figures the blue blurs are US Navy; the others must be Japanese. There is so much chatter on the radio it is impossible to make sense of it.

  Suddenly, Rowdy seems alone again in the sky. It has all happened so fast; he has not had time to get nervous or frightened. He flies on for another moment, trying to salvage his photo run while scanning the empty sky around him.

  He is alone for only a brief moment. There is a plane on his tail: a big, round engine with straight wings. Just like a Jap Oscar fighter.

  Shit! That son of a bitch is right up my ass! Where the hell did he come from?

  To escape, Rowdy needs speed; the only way to get that is to point the nose down and dive. He does so while releasing his empty drop tanks. As his speed picks up, the vibration becomes intense, then violent.

  Hang on, girl! Don’t shake yourself apart!

  His next glance behind reveals there are now two aircraft chasing him, both with the same forward silhouette.

  Damn! When it rains, it pours!

  It is a small comfort that he is putting distance between himself and the two aircraft on his tail. Then, with a brief groan of rending metal, the vibration stops, replaced by a howling noise so loud he can hardly hear the drone of his engines.

  Well, I might go deaf but at least I won’t get shot down or bust apart right now!

  The camera run all but abandoned in his fight for survival, Rowdy continues the high- speed descent, heading to the southwest. He is now beyond the coastline and can see the small islands of Koshikijima-Retto in the distance. As he scans behind him for probably the thousandth time in the past minute, he sees his pursuers--now far behind--give up the chase and roll into chandelles, rapidly reversing direction and climbing. Rowdy watches in amazement as the square-tipped blue wings--sporting white star and bars insignia--of US Navy Hellcat fighters are silhouetted against the sky.

  Dammit! I’m running away from my own guys! Fucking Hellcats look just like Japs from the front! I like Corsairs better!

  A Corsair’s inverted gull wings made it very easy to distinguish, even at a quick glance.

  The perplexed lead Hellcat pilot was just trying to be helpful. He had clearly identified Rowdy’s plane as an unarmed F-5, not a gun-toting P-38, and was going to offer his services and those of his wingman as armed escorts. The Navy pilot had tried calling through the dense traffic on the common frequency but got no reply.

  All the Hellcat pilot can think is that stupid Army flyboy must have shit his pants in a panic.

  Rowdy regains his composure and flies back onshore; he will try to finish his camera run on the western side of Kagoshima Bay. As he slows the aircraft, the howling noise diminishes but never stops. He is sure the high-speed dive has caused the protruding nose gear door to rip right off. Now, instead of the door vibrating, he has to listen to the roar of air rushing through the open hole that is the nose wheel well.

  The incessant radio chatter has finally died down. The skies that had been crowded with aircraft swirling in dogfights are now completely empty. Only a few wispy smoke trails mark the death plunges of the losers; even those oily black plumes are rapidly diminishing, blown to bits by the winds aloft. Rowdy transmits a call to John Worth, who replies immediately and reports his position about 10 miles behind at the northeast corner of Kagoshima Bay, heading south. His mission has gone somewhat less eventfully than Rowdy’s, with only sporadic, ineffective ground fire; no aerial encounters with friend or foe and no aircraft malfunctions. The loss of the nose gear door has forced Rowdy to maintain the reduced speed, keeping the noise down. John is able to catch up 15 minutes later over the sea south of Kyushu. John slows f-stop to keep pace with Rowdy as both planes head home to Kadena.

  Cruising at 10,000 feet, they get to view plenty of action above and below. Every aircraft they see is American, with the exception of a small flight of Japanese fighters below being mauled by P-38’s over the island of Naka-no-shima. The P-38’s are using their speed, diving from above, firing a burst, and then rapidly climbing away untouched. Nimitz’s warships, too numerous to count, prowl the sea to the east of the Ryukyu’s. A steady stream of 5th Air Force bombers lumber above the photo planes, heading north to continue the pre-invasion pummeling of Kyushu’s airfields and harbors.

  Over Okinawa, as they enter the downwind leg for landing at an altitude of 1000 feet, Rowdy tries to lower his landing gear. The nose gear will not extend.

  “Hey, boss! My nose gear says it ain’t down!” Rowdy bellows into his radio.

  “OK, keep her level. I’ll slide underneath and have a look.”

  Once below Rowdy’s aircraft, John says, “Yeah, the gear’s still stuck in the hole. Looks like a piece of the door got pushed up inside and got it jammed. The rest of the door is gone, though. Let me get out from under you…then you try a little dive with a quick pull out…see if the centrifugal force can break it loose.”

  With the two F-5’s still stacked like pancakes, Rowdy screams into his radio:

  “BIRDS! I’LL GO UP YOU GO DOWN!”

  Rowdy’s sudden climb does nothing to dislodge his nose gear, but it gets him clear of the oncoming flock of large seabirds. John is not so lucky. As he dives, it sounds and feels like a hundred birds impact f-stop in a very brief moment…and then it is over. John levels off at 650 feet and looks over his airplane. On the leading edge of the
left wing, just outboard of the propeller arc, a jagged, V-shaped notch--oozing bird guts and feathers--has been carved several feet deep. John fears it has penetrated all the way to the wing’s main spar. There is a loud buzz and some vibration from the left engine. The usual smooth, blurred disk of the spinning propeller now has an irregular appearance at the outer edge. Looking aft, the leading edge of the right vertical stabilizer sports a gouge and bird remains. The radio antenna, a “V” of wire stretching outward from the rear of the cockpit canopy to the tops of both vertical stabilizers, has snapped at the attach point to the right stabilizer and is now flapping straight back, slapping the horizontal stabilizer and elevator.

  John throttles up the good right engine, leaving the left engine with the damaged propeller at idle, adjusts the rudder trim to compensate for the asymmetrical thrust, and continues preparations for landing. The damaged wing spar could be a deadly game- ender; the worst case scenario is the wing folds up and the plane goes spinning down.

  Got to get you on the ground nice and gentle, ol’ girl.

  Rowdy is still struggling with his nose gear. He tries the dive trick to dislodge it but to no avail. The stuck gear continues to defy hydraulics, gravity, and prayer.

  “Boss, I don’t have a whole lot of gas to play around with.”

  “OK, Rowdy, do you want to land without the nose gear or bail out?

  “What would you do, boss?”

  “I’d bring her in.”

  “OK, that’s what I’ll do. Got any tips?”

  “Yeah, Rowdy, try this…as soon as you get the main gears on the ground, hold the nose off just like you always would, but kill the engines right away. The nose will settle pretty quickly after that. You’ll still ruin the props, but the engines themselves stand a better chance of not being damaged when the props hit. You won’t need the brakes to stop with the nose dragging the ground, so lay off them…there’s less chance of ground-looping that way. Just get out fast after she stops just in case something on an engine does break loose and causes a fire.”