Taylor Anderson - Distant Thunders

March 1, 1942

This was NAP 1/c Natakas last chance. Admiral Nagumo, commanding the First Air Fleet, had ordered Natakas carrier, Kaga, home for repairs. Shed scraped her bottom in the Palau Strait and developed an annoying leak. Now shed have to leave the war right when things were going so well. Nataka was seriously concerned the war might even be over before she-and, by extension, he-managed to get back in the fight.

Hed already seen a lot of action and sometimes felt as if hed been in the cockpit of his beloved kanbaku ever since the beginning of this new war against the Americans, British, and Dutch. In all that time however, during all the sorties hed flown, he hadnt managed to hit anything with one of his 250kg bombs! Hed missed the glorious attack on Pearl Harbor; hed been too sick to hide something that gave him a raging fever and they hadnt let him go. Hed flown many missions since, but now heroes, immortals, surrounded him. Theyd been his comrades, his peers just a few months before, but theyd accomplished the impossible while he lay sweating in his rack. Somehow, he just hadnt been able to catch up.

Many times now, Nataka had dived with the others in his Navy Type 99 against lonely freighters, destroyers, and even a pair of cruisers. Hed tried to do as hed been taught, fearlessly braving the black clouds of antiaircraft shells and tracers that rose to meet him. Hed bored in relentlessly at exactly sixty-five degrees and released his bomb at exactly the proper instant-and somehow, he always missed. Hed even missed at Port Darwin! Granted, he hadnt gone after a stationary anchored target; hed attacked a wildly maneuvering, desperately firing destroyer, but his bomb hadnt even come close! Someone must have finally hit the norou old American destroyer; hed seen it afire and dead in the water when his flight regrouped after the attack, but his dive-bomber must have been the only one to return to Kaga that hadnt hit something! Even NAP 1/c Honjo, his navigator-gunner, seemed to be losing faith. The two were close-they had to be-but something just wasnt working.

Nataka was a good attack pilot; he knew he was. Hed always scored among the very best in practice. Of course, practice targets didnt twist, turn, and lunge ahead at flank speed, churning the sea with their deceptive wakes. They didnt make radical, seemingly impossible turns and belch black smoke at the worst possible moment to spoil his aim. He had to remind himself that there were men on his targets now: men who controlled their movements with complete unpredictability. Men who didnt want to die. Now, unless this final hunting trip he and Lieutenant Usa had been allowed bore fruit, Kaga would steam for Japan before Nataka had a chance to prove himself, before he had a chance to break this terrible curse that seemed to hold him in its grasp!

There is something building in the east! Honjo said in his earphones.

Nataka glanced left, beyond the gray-green wing, where a squall line was beginning to form. There were always squalls in these strange seas and sometimes they were intense. They didnt usually form this early in the day, however. Lieutenant Usa has already seen it, he replied, watching Usas plane bank left, away from the distant coast theyd been approaching so brazenly. Type 99s were slow and fat; easy prey for any good fighter, even if they were surprisingly agile. Regardless, Nataka wasnt concerned. There were no good enemy fighters in the area. As far as he knew, there were no enemy fighters left at all. Without hesitation, Nataka turned his plane to follow his lieutenants.

Maybe a big tanker or some poor, lonely freighter is trying to hide in that squall, Honjo speculated predatorily. Nataka nodded. It was certainly possible. The frequent squalls were the only protection left for those desperate ships fleeing Java. I just hope, if there is, Lieutenant Usa wont report it, Honjo continued. Those greedy bakano in Second Fleet will want us to lead them to it so they can blast it with their battleships, even if its a rowboat!

Nataka nodded again. Thered been a lot of that. Slowly, he eased his plane closer to Usas and they approached the squall together. Was it just his imagination, or did the rain already seem closer than it should? They were flying three hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, but either the thing was growing much more quickly than any squall hed seen, or it was moving toward them in an unprecedented fashion. It was also growing darker, and wasnt the usual purple-gray that one usually observed, but rather greenish and livid with dull pulses of lightning. Strange.

Nataka! came Usas clipped, terse voice in his ears. A ship! Two oclock, low!

Nataka suppressed an exasperated sigh. Of course it was low if it was a ship! He strained to see over the black-painted cowling of his engine. Yes! All alone on the brilliant purple sea, a lone freighter plodded helplessly along. She looked old, medium-size, with a single stack streaming gray smoke. Perhaps shed seen them, because she was clearly making for the growing squall.

We will attack together, Usa said over the radio. It seems to be the easiest way, he added, almost apologetically, it seemed.

Natakas face heated, but he made no reply.

I will approach her port bow, Usa continued. You will attack from the port quarter. Whichever direction she turns, one of us should have her entire length for his bomb to fall upon!

It will be done! Nataka said, and banked left again, directly toward the squall. Beloved ancestors! he muttered, and immediately wondered if anyone heard. If they had, they probably thought he was calling his ancestors to aid him in the attack, but what prompted his words was the squall itself. The thing was monstrous! Not only had it swiftly grown to encompass the visible horizon, but it was practically opaque, not like a squall at all, but like a huge wall of water! He shook himself and glanced at his altimeter. Soon he would begin his dive.

The altimeter had gone insane! The needle spun erratically with wild fluctuations! Not only that, but his compass was distressed as well. As he banked back right, to the north, his compass told him he was flying east! Even as he veered around behind the still tiny ship below, his compass steadfastly insisted that west was north.

Honjo, I

Yes? What is it?

Nothing. Usa has circled around while we positioned ourselves. He is beginning his dive!

Good luck, Nataka! Let us sink this bastard quickly and get away from that wrongful storm!

So, Honjo was nervous too. Nataka couldnt count on any of his instruments now. Even his horizon and airspeed indicators were malfunctioning. He pushed the stick forward until the ships fantail appeared in the telescopic sight in front of his canopy. The target was slow. It couldnt be making more than ten knots at best. He doubted it was capable of any escape sprint, like those so many of his targets had employed. Nevertheless, he engaged the dive brakes to slow his descent. He wanted plenty of time to react if the ship took evasive maneuvers to avoid Usas attack.

Tracers started rising toward him and a single puff of black smoke erupted in his path. This sheep has a few little teeth, he thought, concentrating on his angle of descent. Apparently, the target had managed a feeble burst of speed after all, and he pulled back on the stick just a bit. More tracers came and they seemed brighter than before. Brighter? He risked a quick glance away from the sight. No. The world was darker! The squall was in the west, he knew it was in the west, but out-riding clouds above must have blocked the morning sun. No time. Usa was nearly upon the target, the gray-green of his plane and the bright red circles on its wings still clearly contrasted against the darker sea. Excellent! The ship was turning toward Usa, just as the lieutenant predicted! Usa might still hit No! A massive, dirty plume erupted just off the ships port bow! Tracers followed Usas plane as it pulled up, up But wait! The plane was smoking!