We got so close that I thought his propellers might cut into my neck. We were told never to hesitate at that moment, and just aim to carve the enemy with our own propellers. Of course, death was a certainty if this happened but at least we would take the enemy with us. I turned to pursue but he was gone.
The enemy was going too fast to give chase, so we returned to base. Only eight could keep in formation. Of the 50 Zeros in Storm Corps out on this first sortie, 17 did not return. I didn’t see any of my comrades being shot down. All I could see was the enemy in front of me. I had no idea how many successes we had. The tactics drilled into us so thoroughly were hopeless against the overwhelming clout of American planes.
This was my first real taste of combat. Those of us who came back sat in a circle drinking in our half-burned barracks. There were 17 empty coffins covered with white cloths in there with us. The sharp metallic sound of the F6F still rang in my ears. I knew we couldn’t compete, and I’m sure my comrades thought so too.
My team sortied again the next day, but we didn’t encounter the enemy. Our base had been heavily bombed in our absence, and all the barracks were burned to the ground. American bombers destroyed our beautiful airfields while we were out on sortie. If one U.S. carrier transported 80 planes, 11 meant that they had 880! How on earth could we defend our bases against these numbers? Why didn’t we have more warning?
We knew in our bones that we had been soundly defeated in the Formosa air battle. However, radio news broadcasts from the Imperial General Headquarters reported that we had won a “marvelous victory.” We could not reconcile the fact that Japanese scout planes and submarines missed such a large enemy fleet until it was too late. If we had known what we were up against, at least we could have been better prepared. It seemed to me that we were already defeated before the fight began.13
My personal effects, uniforms and pictures were all gone. My favorite photograph of a Zero taken high above the Sakurajima volcano also perished in the fire. The photos I have of this time now are few that I had sent home. The gate of the airfield was the only thing left standing. A young American airman was tied captive to a post with rope. His plane must have been shot down and he bailed out with his parachute. He looked to be around the same age as me and was clearly afraid for his life. I said to him, “It could be me tied up instead of you. We share a similar destiny.” Of course, he had no idea what I was saying and stared at me with a searching eye. It did think that such treatment of POWs must be in contravention of international treaties, but I kept my mouth shut.
CHAPTER FOUR
Battle of the Philippines
Shortly after the air battles of Formosa ended, the 2nd Naval Air Fleet’s Storm Corps received orders to head to Clark Field in Luzon.14 “Tomorrow, embark for the Philippines” came the directive. Other Air Groups were given the same ultimatum, but we went separately in several waves. Taking off on October 18 or 19, my squadron was in the second or third wave.
The Philippines.
The air bases in Taiwan had been hit badly in American attacks, and few Zeros were left in an operational state. It took some time to repair the damaged planes because there were no parts. We cannibalized hopelessly wrecked planes for duralumin plate and used it to patch bullet holes in the fuselage. The color was different making the mended Zeros look battle worn and tired.
Once repaired, we were immediately sent to the Philippines in teams of three or five. Who went when depended entirely on the state of repairs. The Model 32 Zero which I had flown since Kasanohara was in good shape, so my departure came early on. My destination was the central airbase in Clark Field. The Americans were already pounding bases in the Philippines and we had to be careful about our time of arrival. It was preferable to land at nightfall to avoid daytime raids.
We flew over the Bashi Channel between Taiwan and the Philippines and headed south to the northern edge of Luzon. A long road running southwards from Lingayen Gulf was visible from the air. I figured that this must be the “Manila Highway.” Several lines which looked like landing strips came into view in the distance ahead. I counted nine in total as I approached but couldn’t tell if they were runways or just crofts. I soon realized that it was indeed the colossal Clark Field, albeit much shabbier than the fine bases in Taiwan. From appearances alone, my first impression was that it wasn’t worthy of its repute as a great stronghold. It was truly massive, though.
On the west side of the Manila Highway was a grass runway interspersed with white pavement. That was Clark’s central airbase, the one we were bound for. I chose a line that looked to be in good condition for landing. Although Zeros had spring suspension, the landing felt heavy. The runway was originally made of concrete, but the surface was potholed and uneven because of shelling. The holes were filled with dirt which soon became overgrown with weeds. I knew that I would have to be careful when landing from now on to avoid damaging my plane.
I imagined before arriving that there would be underground shelters given it was referred to as a “fortress.” The setup fell well short of my expectations with just a series of grassy landing strips. All of us were left somewhat disappointed. Aircraft parked on the grassy areas outside were always sitting ducks. There were some concrete shelters, but they could only house one fighter each. We kept our aircraft safe by hiding them in the bushes around Clark, covering them with branches cut from trees. This took time and planning.
Clark Air Base Complex
Nightly Bombings
Our quarters were originally built by the Americans in a forested area close to the western edge of the base. The building was raised off the ground with a small flight steps leading up to the entrance. It was spacious and very “Western.” Notwithstanding, there were no beds or chairs, so we made our bedding on the floor with a few blankets and looked forward to sleeping soundly in our new home.
This was never to be. From the very first night we endured air raids by American bombers and were abruptly awoken by the furious sound of shells exploding close by. Frightened out of our wits, we grabbed our blankets and rushed down the steps to take shelter under a big tree. Even at midnight, American bombers could accurately target the runways and barracks from high in the sky. This was hardly surprising as Clark Field originally belonged to them. We thought it prudent to take cover some place far away from its facilities.
We “slept” under that tree for the first night. I use the term loosely and we were all dreadfully tired the next morning. The following night was not much better. Again, we fled the barracks and sought safety elsewhere. Some of the barracks were hit and burned to the ground.
To the west of Clark Field was the Pinatubo volcano (1,486m), and Mt. Arayat to the east. Arayat was not particularly high, but it was a beautiful mountain. We called it the “Mount Fuji of Manila.” Clark was sandwiched between these two mountains. We heard rumors that anti-Japanese guerrillas were making bonfires halfway up the mountains to guide American bombers in their raids. The constant barrages and incessant worry prevented any hope of peaceful slumber.
We relocated to another airfield to the south in the Clark network. Our new quarters were a small hike from the west side of the base. It was a shabby little cottage of the likes seen in comic books. It didn’t take long before bombing commenced in this area as well, and again, we were forced to run for our lives in the dark of night. At times we even slept under the wings of our Zeros. We reasoned that the pinging of bullets
