Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II (11 page)

“Captain Tagami wishes you to report to the conning tower, sir.”
²⁹

Fujita looked up and saw a crewman in front of him.

“Very well,” he said, laying the pistol on his bunk. Maybe this time the captain would have good news.

When Fujita arrived in the darkened conning tower, Captain Tagami was gazing through the periscope.

“Take a look and tell me what you think,” he said.
³⁰

Fujita grasped the cold metal handles and squinted through the eyepiece at the Oregon coast. It was dark out, but he could see the snow-covered hills behind Cape Blanco lighthouse. Amazingly, the Oregon coast wasn’t blacked out.
³¹
What Fujita cared most about though were launch conditions.

After carefully studying the sea and sky, he turned to Tagami. “Captain, it looks good. I think we can do it today.”

“Fine!” the captain responded. “In just a few minutes you’ll make history, Fujita. You’ll be the first person to bomb the United States of America!”
³²

Fujita returned to his bunk, where he put on his flight suit. As he zipped up the front, he thought, I’m finally going to bomb America. And it had all come about because he’d sent a letter up the chain of command.
³³
It didn’t seem possible.

Fujita placed several strands of hair and a few fingernail clippings into a small, light-colored box made of paulownia wood. If discovered on his mission, it was unlikely he or his navigator would return. The ossuary box would then be given to his family in place of his remains. Otherwise, his spirit could not be properly venerated.

Fujita went on deck after finishing his preparations. There seven technicians worked by starlight to ready his plane. First the hangar door was opened. Then the floatplane was rolled out on its dolly. Next, the wings, control surfaces, and pontoons were attached. When the plane was fully assembled, Fujita climbed into the cockpit and turned the engine over. The
Kugisho
E14Y spluttered to life.
³⁴
Fujita had always loved the smell of oil fumes, and he found the plane’s idling reassuring. When the engine was running smoothly, he reported to Captain Tagami.

“All ready, sir.”

The captain nodded. “Good luck, Fujita.”
³⁵

Seconds after Fujita saw a red-lensed flashlight waving from the sub’s bow, his body slammed into the seat back, and he was launched into the sky. Turning toward the lighthouse, he flew toward the golden rays of the rising sun. His mission was finally under way.

If everything went well, this would be the first of many air raids over America.
³⁶
The thought inspired Fujita. Still, he was concerned that his plane might be shot down before he’d dropped his payload. He mustn’t let that happen.

S2c Ezra Ross was one of the first people to spot Fujita’s floatplane as it neared the coast. Ross was standing watch at the Coast Guard station in Port Orford when he reported seeing an unidentified aircraft. Word passed quickly to the IVth Fighter Command, responsible for tracking incursions.
³⁷
It was now official. Fujita’s mission was no longer secret.

After he crossed the Oregon coastline, Fujita turned northeast and headed inland about 50 miles. It was a foggy morning with poor visibility, but U.S. forest rangers weren’t just watching for fires on Mount Emily that day—they’d also been trained as air defense observers. Within minutes, two lookout posts heard Fujita’s aircraft approaching.
³⁸

As he flew over Wheeler Ridge, Fujita ordered his observer to release the first bomb. The incendiary disappeared into the Oregon woods, its nose-mounted propeller spinning like a pinwheel. But the sudden change in weight distribution proved too great for the
tiny plane, and Fujita found himself fighting a steep dive. Using the stick, he regained control just in time to see the first bomb explode in a brilliant white flash.
³⁹

Heading east, Fujita flew a few more miles before dropping his second bomb. Satisfied he’d made an important contribution to the war effort,
⁴⁰
he leveled off at 100 feet and pushed his plane as fast as she could go.
⁴¹

Fujita planned to rendezvous with the
I-25
at sea. However, as he passed Cape Blanco, he spotted two merchant ships directly in his path. Fujita didn’t want the ships alerting American air defense, but he didn’t have much choice. If he was going to meet the
I-25
at the predetermined location, he had to pass the two ships. The question was how to do it without being identified?
⁴²

The only answer was to fly between the ships at such low altitude, they wouldn’t spot the insignia on his wings. His seaplane’s silhouette was also a problem though, so Fujita flew so close to the wave tops that his floats nearly skimmed the water.

Unfortunately, his observer miscalculated their location. As soon as they were over the horizon, they realized they were too far south. Informed of the mistake, Fujita backtracked. Air defense officials were looking for him by now, so it soon became a race to see whether Fujita found his sub first, or U.S. fighter planes found him.

Fortunately for Fujita, he found his sub. After spotting the
I-25
, he executed a prearranged series of maneuvers like a scout bee signaling he was friendly.
⁴³
When it was clear he’d been identified, he landed the plane, taxied alongside the sub, and was craned aboard.

Protocol dictates that officers behave in a calm manner when reporting to a superior, but Fujita could hardly restrain himself when he saw Captain Tagami. “Mission complete, sir. Both bombs exploded. Two large fires are spreading.”

What excited Tagami more though was Fujita’s news that two merchant ships were heading north at 12 knots. “Give me a course to intercept those ships!”
⁴⁴

As far at Captain Tagami was concerned, the
I-25
was still an
offensive weapon, even if he’d just launched the first sub-borne airplane attack of World War II.

The technicians were still disassembling Fujita’s plane when Tagami gave the order to pursue the freighters. Fujita was impressed by his captain’s aggressiveness: attacking two ships after launching the first air raid on American soil demonstrated the proper fighting spirit. But the
I-25
was no match for U.S. air defenses. An American plane dove out of the sky and dropped two bombs on the sub just moments after the flight crew secured her hangar door.
^†
Fujita had led the Americans right to the sub.

The
I-25
dove, leveled off at 250 feet, and rigged for silent running. As the crew listened to depth charges exploding overhead, it soon became apparent the detonations were moving farther away. Jokes were made about the accuracy of American fliers. An enemy had to be perfect to impress a Sixth Fleet crew.
⁴⁵
Clearly, these were not.

The
I-25
remained submerged that day. Later in the evening when things were quiet, Tagami surfaced to recharge their batteries. Fujita was anxious to discuss the next attack, since they still had four incendiaries left. He was curious what the captain would do. Both men had recently heard an American radio broadcast describing the Japanese as capable only of repetitive behavior.

“The Americans will be expecting another sunrise [attack] … in the usual Japanese manner,” Tagami said. “We’ll make the next one a night attack [instead].”
⁴⁶

Fujita smiled at his captain’s humor.

The
I-25
may have become the most wanted submarine on the west coast, but that didn’t stop Tagami from attacking an American freighter.
^‡
47
Fujita was anxious to make his next flight, of course. The plan was to launch off Cape Mendocino and torch California’s
redwood forests. When seas proved too rough, Tagami returned to the scene of their first attack. Maybe the Americans wouldn’t expect him after all.
⁴⁸

The
I-25
surfaced 50 miles west of Cape Blanco at midnight, September 29, 1942.
⁴⁹
By now, the Oregon coast was blacked out, but a full moon helped guide Fujita into the sky. Once again he used the lighthouse to navigate and flew inland for half an hour before releasing his incendiaries into the old-growth forest below. Satisfied each bomb had exploded, Fujita turned round and headed back to the sub.
^§

Taking no chances on his return trip, Fujita passed north of Cape Blanco to avoid being spotted. He also cut power as he approached the coast and began a long, silent glide that took him over the ocean. Following a predetermined route, he flew west until he reached the rendezvous point. Unfortunately, the
I-25
wasn’t there.
⁵⁰

Fujita knew the risks. The sub came first, his floatplane second. Though it was possible his observer had miscalculated, it was equally possible the
I-25
had been spotted and forced to submerge. Something similar had happened with the
I-36
’s floatplane. After flying over Pearl Harbor to report on damage, the aircraft hadn’t been able to return without betraying the
I-36
’s position. The plane and her crew were never heard from again.
⁵¹

Fujita banked steeply to get a clear look at the ocean. Locating a sub was like finding a particular feather in a barnyard, and it was even more difficult when it was dark. Though moonlight helped Fujita to see for miles, there was no sign of the
I-25
.

Fujita was willing to die on behalf of his country, but he wanted his death to mean something. To crash into an enemy ship was honorable. Even diving into the Cape Blanco lighthouse was acceptable so long as the enemy was hurt. But to run out of fuel and
crash into the sea was a waste.
⁵²
Time was running out, however. Unless they found the
I-25
, they’d quickly run out of options.

Ironically, the thing that saved Fujita was the same thing that could have caused the I-25 to be sunk: the sub was leaking oil. Much to his relief, Fujita spotted an iridescent slick on the ocean and followed the trail until it led him to the
I-25
. Then he landed alongside the sub and was craned back on board.

Fujita’s two attacks were front-page news in Japan. The
Asahi Shimbun
, one of the country’s largest-circulation newspapers, plastered the story in celebratory headlines:

Poor weather prevented Fujita from a third attack. Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary—he’d accomplished his objective. Though unseasonably heavy rains dampened the forests enough to prevent Fujita’s fires from spreading, fear was rampant on America’s west coast. If this was the kind of reaction a few bombs could provoke, imagine what would happen when the
I-400
s launched their attack on New York and Washington. That had been Yamamoto’s plan all along. They just needed time to execute it.

C
ONSTRUCTION ON THE FIRST THREE
S
EN-TOKU SUBS BEGAN IN
early 1943. The
I-400
’s keel was laid first on January 18 at the Kure naval arsenal, the
I-13
followed less than a month later in Kobe, and construction was set for April on the
I-401
at Sasebo.
¹

The
I-13
was the second-largest sub built by the Japanese Navy. Based on a modified version of the
I-9
sub, the
I-13
AM (for Type A Modified) was only 28 feet shorter than the
I-400
class.
²
Originally planned to carry only one aircraft in comparison with her larger sister, which carried two, the AM subs were hindered by a limited cruising range. Since the route from Japan to New York would pass either Africa’s Cape of Good Hope or South America’s Cape Horn, the
I-13
would have to be refueled by one of the
I-400
s during her return trip.
³
Seven AM Type subs were planned (
I-1, I-13
through
I-15
,
⁴
and 5094 through 5096
⁵
), along with 18 of the
I-400
class. Once their special attack bombers were included, the
Sen-toku
squad promised to cause significantly more damage than Fujita’s lone plane over Oregon.

While sub construction was under way, Aichi made progress on the special attack plane. Nineteen forty-two was devoted to basic research,
⁶
with attention paid to wings and tail assembly. By January 1943 Aichi was ready to demonstrate the complex task of folding the plane’s wings.

Aichi’s skunkworks were located in a cold, cavernous hangar at its manufacturing plant in Nagoya. A select gathering of Naval General Staff officers were invited to tour a wooden mockup.
⁷
As the NGS officers gathered around the full-size model, they marveled at Aichi’s engineering solution.