The Storm

It seemed like any ordinary day in the south pacific. The waves were crashing softly against the steel hull of the aircraft carrier USS Essex and Cmdr. David McCampbell was enjoying some of his downtime in his cabin. The gentle rocking of the ship reminded him of the time he was on the Wasp... That name, it triggered so many memories...

(Flashback)

It was the seemingly innocent, sunny afternoon of Tuesday, September 15th, 1942. And nothing seemed off. They had a run-in encounter with a Jap flying boat earlier that afternoon, but it was still an ordinary day in the south pacific. According to what he had heard, they had come looking for some planes that had gotten separated from the carrier. His thoughts were snapped by the sound of a sailor announcing the planes were returning.

“Ready to play two hand tennis?” said George as he got up off of the warm steel of the flight deck.

“Who’s flagging em down this time?” said David as he got up from alongside him and hustling towards the small dark green screen they stood up against for signaling.

“You, I did the honors last time,” said George, handing David the paddles.

“No you didn’t!” retorted David, a grin on his face as he took the paddles.

“Yes I did!” protested George, also grinning.

“No you...” David was cut off by a glare from George.

He, along with George, guided the planes in, and, after that, everything was calm again. However, even after all the planes had landed and had been safely stowed away on the once barren flight deck, David couldn’t help but have a gut-wrenching sense of dread.

George noticed his troubled expression and said, “Dave, what’s bugging ya? You aren’t usually like this.”

“You ever heard about how some guys... get a kind of... inexplicable feeling... before something bad happens? I... I think I’m feeling that,” said David.

“Oh, come on, we’ve all felt that way. Your head is just giving you crap and you’re just overreacting. I’ve heard many statements like that, and, nothing ever happened,” said George, trying to comfort his friend with his reasoning. “What makes you think it’ll be any different?”

“I dunno know, George, I dunno... ” said David.  As he stared out at the blue waters of the pacific, he felt something was out there, following them. Chasing them, an unseen menace lurking beneath he waves that threatened the carrier.

After that short exchange, several hours passed and David roamed around the edges of the flight deck, pacing with a large wad of anxiety, fear, dread, and a strange heavy sagging feeling, inside of him, growing as the long minutes passed. It was now late in the afternoon, and the south pacific sun gleamed against the parked Wildcats and Dauntless that filled the hot flight deck, and many of the deck officers had taken off their shirts and upper garments to try and keep cool, others retreating into the ship to avoid the sun’s harsh rays. Suddenly, a piercing shout broke through the waves and the humming of the engines.

“Three torpedoes... three points forward of the starboard beam!” shouted a lookout, binoculars in hand.

A few moments later, the ship was thrown into chaos. Fire was everywhere, and explosions racked the ship. David was knocked flat and so was George. The planes then fell apart, crushing and killing many sailors and injuring many more. Huge fires then sprouted from the inside of the ship. Many men were screaming in pain, some sailors with flaming garments jumped overboard, and others in better shape were gathering the wounded and trying to tend to them. Other sailors were trapped under twisted wreckage: and David could only try to help the other sailors the were wounded. While he was watching George, who was covered in 2nd degree burns, a Dauntless fell from the deck and into the water. David watched, and saw, to his horror, that the Dauntless was headed straight for other sailors that were trying in vain to swim away from their impending death. He turned away as he herd the unbearably loud splash as the plane crashed into the water.

“They didn’t make it...” mumbled George. “Poor bastards... rest in piece.”

Shortly after a few more explosions, the order was given to abandon ship. David, George, and other sailors were eventually crammed into a small obnoxiously yellow life raft and they slowly floated away from the burning, listing wreck of the Wasp.

(End of Flashback)

David was snapped out of his thoughts because he heard the following message from the intercom speakers, “All pilots report to the flight deck immediately!” He sprang out of his chair, and rushed up to the flight deck. From there he sprinted to his F6F-5 Hellcat, Minsi III, and prepared for the mission ahead. After he had crawled into the small but surprisingly comfortable cockpit, the control tower relayed basic mission information to him. His orders were to escort a squadron of Helldivers and Dauntless to their target, the Japanese carrier Shōkaku, and to join with Task Force 58. David acknowledged and soon his group,  Air Group 15, were airborne and awaited to join what promised to be one heck of a fight. As they began flying to meet up with the task force, David noted a distant wall of grey clouds, about 20 miles away from the location of the Japanese fleet. “See those clouds? It’s odd, I thought there were no storms in the area.”

“Well, looks like a typhoon that will to be rolling in sometime soon. We’d better hope it’s not going anywhere fast so we don’t get stuck in it,” radioed another Hellcat pilot. “Out of all the damn times for bad weather, it had to be now...”

David agreed and returned his focus to the controls. They quickly met up with Task Force 58 and soon they headed for the carrier. When they arrived, what ensued next David was sure would never happen again. The Shōkaku, having recently launched it’s compliment of planes, which engaged the oncoming American force. David gunned down five Judy dive bombers himself, and the other Hellcats managed to quickly make a dent in the enemy fighters. Occasionally, the dive bombers would would pick off any fighter that got too close. However, David found the Japanese resistance laughably poor. They were probably shooting down young men who probably barely had learned to fly. Now stripped of it’s aircraft, the Shōkaku had only its guns to rely on. And, it went down faster than you could say hit in a game of Battleship, the Dauntless and Helldivers bombs and torpedoes all hitting their mark. Then, the weather came up. David was a bit alarmed at the sound of heavy rain hitting his canopy and thunder rumbling like the angry voice of God.

The storm’s sudden arrival caused quite an uproar of concern among the pilots, all noting about how it seemed the storm had moved very fast. Nervously, they decided to fall back before the tropical storm could reach their carriers.

David agreed, and ordered all Group 15 planes to form up and fall back to the Essex.

“AMBUSH!” yelled one of the pilots. About 18 A6M3 Zeros, or colloquially known as Zekes by the allies, swooped down from the thick grey clouds and sheets of rain, and rained their own metal storm upon the squadrons.

“God dammit!” yelled David. “Alright, all fighters break off and distract the Zekes. Save the bombers! Use the Thach Weave to keep a hand on them!”

In movement more synchronous than clockwork, the Hellcats broke off and began distracting the Zeros.

David singled out a slower Zero, gave chase, and when he felt confident, fired.

The Zero went down in flames, the showing the Japanese recruit’s skill level was far below David’s.

However, just after gunning down another Zero, he pulled a hard left to avoid a strafe from behind. As the Zero flashed by, elusive as a lighting bolt, David caught the tail number: 105. David immediately went into pursuit, determined to bag another one. However, just as things lined up, the Zero went into a steep climb. David followed, but, then the Zero dived to his left faster than he could blink. he followed, but... he couldn’t spot it, it had vanished. David tried to look through the walls of heavy rain assaulting Minsi III, the winds causing turbulence like he’d never felt before, and it was exhilarating. “He’s no rookie, no rookie could ever do that,” mumbled David. Suddenly, gunfire from behind him advised him to pull up. “Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, eh? Well, two can play at that game,”  said David, clearly knowing he was up against a pilot of his level. He then decided to disappear, vanishing into the thunderheads. For awhile, the Zero didn’t seem to catch on. Then, roaring like the thunder around them, he dove down, all six M2 Brownings spitting bullets.

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa was impressed. This American fought very well, and he was proud to be facing a worthy adversary. However, the gunfire and swooping form of the American plane forced him to move away and then return fire. However, like the last attempt, the American was able to dodge! “This might be one of the best pilots they have, if so, it explains the long fight. Truly, it is an honor to be against such an adversary,” thought Nishizawa. However, he knew that his fuel would run out, so he would try to finish off the American or turn back. But there was no turning back... yet. However, before he struck the final blow, he wanted to honor the american for the fight. So, he pulled alongside the American’s plane, their planes wingtip to wingtip.

David was surprised when the Zero pulled up right beside him. The pilot turned to him, saluted in a dignifying manner, and nodded. David saluted in return. He figured that this was a Japanese Ace, trying to honor him and respect him before he shot him down. However, the prospect of round two was cut short when a bright white flash blinded David and he suddenly felt as if the world was warping around him. He swore, even before he passed out, that the grey clouds were twisting to form a hole big enough for the two planes to go through. Then, whiteout.

Sometime later...

David was jarred back to consciousness when a crack of thunder sounded. “Ooooooh... where am I?” moaned David, putting a hand to his forehead. “Where’s that Zero I was chasing?” David looked to his right, and, the Zero was cruising alongside him. Normally, he would’ve been alarmed, but, for some odd reason, he felt relieved. He could tell the Japanese Ace was also in a similar predicament, for he looked at him with a confused face.  “Something feels off,” said David. “This can’t be right. I know something is wrong, just what...” Then they came out of the storm, leaving the rolling thunder, grey thunderheads, and turbulence behind. What shocked David was that they weren’t over the ocean, and that it was night. In fact, his Hellcae was cruising next to some mountains, and, a mountainside city that had a waterfall next to it, which gleamed in the pale moonlight. “WHAT THE H***?!?!...” exclaimed David. “Okay, I have to be hallucinating. It will all go away if I just tell it to.” David closed his eyes and wished for the mountains and mountainside city to vanish and become the blue waters of the south Pacific, but, when he opened them, they were still there. “Well, I guess this is real.” He turned to the Zero, and he could see the pilot was having the same reaction.

Nishizawa was amazed. One moment he was in the south Pacific, next he is near a mountainside city at night. It looked rather odd, like some sort of fairy palace. Even in the low light, Nishizawa could tell it was all golden and pink and purple,  like a guilder’s daughter had designed it and painted it. He couldn’t make out details, but Nishizawa was very sure no cities on earth looked like this one. It seemed... girlish in an odd, over the top way. Suddenly, he remembered that the American had made it as well. He made a quick glance and saw the American was making motions with his hands. First, the American pointed at him, then made a two fingered gesture that meant, “see”, then he pointed at the city, then to himself, and then made the “see” sign again. Nishizawa was able to piece together a logical sentence, filling in the gaps in his mind, “Do you see what I see?” Nishizawa responded by making a series of hand signals that indicated he did. Then the American made more signals, first pointing at Nishizawa, then at himself, then making fists and doing a few punches, and then making an X with his hands. “He wants a truce...” thought Nishizawa. “I can’t be sure... but... I feel the same way. Peace for now.” Nishizawa turned and gave a respectful nod to the American.

David felt like he’d made it to a major milestone when the Japanese pilot had agreed to his truce. Just maybe... things would work out.