1275psi
Posts: 7979
Joined: 4/17/2005 Status: offline
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9th of May Zuiho, part of Nagumo's massive fleet, maintains her position on the Starboard flank. Seas are calm, weather is good. For some time now, our story has swung away from her very reason of existance. Her pilots. Her mission, to deliver deadly fish and blasting bombs over many hundreds of miles of open sea, and to then safely recover on her tiny deck her planes, to reload them, and to do it again. Now, so many years after the events of this war, what do we have to tell us of those days, of these men? A few grainy, black and white photos. Few, a very few memories( for obviously so few survived these days), and a few books (falling cherry blossoms being the one we use), which we know can be but imperfect, for they protray only such a limited view. But, I know this. Of the fighter pilots, May 43, Zuihos are the best, the very , very best. Their fighters may be aging, overtaken by what opposes them, but few can match their skill in the air. But skill is not all. Courage. Moral. Aggression. Fatigue. These are the things that really matter. Ogawa, Hidaka, Diogawa, Uto. They do not think about flying when they stir the controls. They wish to place their plane just thus..........and it happens. Unthought, un bidden. No, skill alone means nothing to them. Ogawa walks to his fighter again. 350 times now he has launched into the air. 350 times. Think of this. 350 times trusting that engine. 350 times judging that landing. 350 times anticipating potentail battle, potential death. Once, a life time ago, he worried about his courage, flew every mission to prove to invisible judges his manhood, his valour. No longer. He has nothing to prove. But he now sees the future. 350 missions..............maybe just a start. There will be no finish, no end, until ............. Ogawa walks to his fighter, fatalism filling his soul. maybe death will take him today. maybe it wont. Tomorrow, then it will be 352, 353...........until when? Hidaka walks to his fighter again. Fatalism does not fill him. But fear does. Not for him. never for him. but for Japan, for the country he loves, will die for. Indefinably, like a breeze, you feel it, but cannot clutch it, a feeling fills him. Things have changed. The tide of war , some how, seems to have turned against them. How long since Zuiho drew blood?. How long since Japan really drew blood? Frustration fills him. And like a captain of a fading football team entering the last quarter behind, he cannot help himself. He must inject himself into the battle, into the war, as if he can change its course himself. A fools mission. But Hidaka walks to his plane, detirmined to fight, fight come what may. Diogawa walks to his plane, grin still wide upon his face. He greets his crew with customary vows, and recieves them back as usual. Diogawa thinks not of the war. Not of tomorrow. Nor of yesteday. He will fly, and he will be happy. A long, long, long time ago, Diogawa learnt a lesson. And has been happy with his lot ever since. The forgotten instructors words live on in his heart. 'In war, accept that you are already dead. Then, and only when you believe that, can you live" Diogawa, killer of five planes, walks to his plane, another day. Another day to live Uto walks to his plane He has no kills yet, and is also yet to discover that his skill matches his friends. Like them, he does not think his flying, it happens. His crew meet him, no longer as herbiesans son, but as they greet all of them. A man they send to battle on their behalf. Their flying shield, their flying spear. Their human bullet. Bullets have no names. Nagumos fleet turns briefly away from its march south towards rabual, into the wind. The planes launch. Men soon to be forgotten by history, of ships that never will be. The war continues to plan.
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