1275psi
Posts: 7979
Joined: 4/17/2005 Status: offline
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3/12/43 Miyazuki carefully packs his kit. There is only a very small area in the storage compartment of the Tojo, and where they are going "expect nothing -if you cannot take it -you won't have it, if you don't need it -don't bring it" There is his simple sleeping mat, the mosquito net. A bowl, his razor, tooth brush. One spare shirt. His letters. That is all he needs. All that will fit. On him, a pistol, his sword, map board, a battle dressing. Life jacket. Chute. It was a wonder he could even climb into the cockpit.............. All around him, the pilots prepare. There is little jocularity, much contemplation. Ahead, a long, long journey -then, then certain battle. The Admirals, the generals had arrived at dawn, and Nakamura had departed with them to the big long specially assembled tent. The wise amongst the 47th had begaun to pack............. Miyazuki got it right -of course it was not hard to guess. "I would say Juni -we are going to be helping the Navy out of a sticky situation again" Juni spits into the dust " Timor, majuro, kwaljien, rabual - when the hell weren't we pulling the Navy eggs from the fire?" "We are going men" No smile, no grin today. A long, long journey ahead............ The tigers line up -and once again the great rumble of Nakamura's wings -100 plus, roll across the paddies , rivers and jungles. He leads them aloft -tall and erect in his cockpit, as he has done so many times before. The crowd watches them go - how can you not?. They do not cheer today, or wave the rising sun, (there are no camera today), they just watch, and wonder -how many will return, will they prevail? The mass circles once -a final farewell, and turns west. Soon the great roar fades, and silence returns to the great wastes of bangkok field But soon, another noise, more engines from the south. Deeper, lower, slower, and they heave into sight. Transports, dozens of them, great eagles, seeking a new nest. Amongst them, smaller planes, more fighters. Swallows amongst them. One of the transports taxis right to the door of the mess., great clouds of dust as the engines rev violently with no pitch. They shudder to a halt, and in the sudden silence -a head, attached to a particularily ugly dial, pops out of the pilots hatch 'Right then" Hosho commands 'Where is lunch?" To the west, 47th pick up their guiding angel, a beautiful big Emily, and like ducklings following mother, follow her out across the big blue. Miyazuki watches her like a hawk, watches all around himwith intense concentration. Lose the pack here, lose concentration, and one is lost. The weather threatens all trip,threatens disaster, great clouds building on all horizons, they travel in a pocket of blue. The Adaman islands hove into view............. Imagine a string of three sausages. Japan controls the two outer ones, the british , half the middle one -its Army stranded at Austin harbour -tantilising short of the nearest airfield -but unable to breach that final ridge surrounding them. Japan cannot eject them. Nor has it been able to slow the british slow growth in strength. Submarine?, fast transports?, air supply?. A mystery. As Nakamura wheels them over the island, over the british positions (here we are -come on -do something about this!, see our strength!) he can see why this siege has lasted so long. One field, vulnerable to naval fire. A million places the Allies could land reinforcements. The narrow, narrow fronts -for both sides. 47th's orders are simple. Ones they know well. "Hold the harbour open as long as you can. Support the bombers" Hold. Hold, Hold" They have done it before. They must do it again. He leads them into the devastated field that tries to pretend it is an airstrip. 47th is again at the tip of the spear, the edge of the shield. How long to blunt it this time?
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