TheList 6054 Koga's Zero

The List 6054 Koga's Zero     TGB

Good Sunday Afternoon April 3 2022

A BONUS for a Sunday afternoon.

This story that has been in the list before was dropped in my in basket this

morning and worth telling again.

Regards,

Skip

Thanks to Dick and John

This is long, but worth it.

The Japanese Zero and how we learned to fight it...

  In April 1942 thirty-six Zeros attacking a British naval base at Colombo,

Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), were met by about sixty Royal Air Force aircraft of

mixed types, many of them obsolete.  Twenty-seven of the RAF planes went

down: fifteen Hawker Hurricanes (of Battle of Britain fame), eight Fairey

Swordfish, and four Fairey Fulmars.  The Japanese lost one Zero.

  Five months after America's entry into the war, the Zero was still a

mystery to US Navy pilots. On May 7, 1942, in the Battle of the Coral Sea,

fighter pilots from our aircraft carriers Lexington and Yorktown fought the

Zero and didn't know what to call it. Some misidentified it as the German

Messerschmitt 109.

  A few weeks later, on June 3 and 4, warplanes flew from the Japanese

carriers Ryujo and Junyo to attack the American military base at Dutch

Harbor in Alaska's Aleutian archipelago. Japan's attack on Alaska was

intended to draw remnants of the U.S. fleet north from Pearl Harbor, away

from Midway Island, where the Japanese were setting a trap. (Their scheme

ultimately backfired when our Navy pilots sank four of Japan's first-line

aircraft carriers at Midway, giving the United States a major turning-point

victory.)

  In the raid of June 4, twenty bombers blasted oil storage tanks, a

warehouse, a hospital, a hangar, and a beached freighter, while eleven Zeros

strafed at will. Chief Petty Officer Makoto Endo led a three-plane Zero

section from the Ryujo, whose other pilots were Flight Petty Officers Tsuguo

Shikada and Tadayoshi Koga.  Koga, a small nineteen-year old, was the son of

a rural carpenter. His Zero, serial number 4593, was light gray, with the

imperial rising-sun insignia on its wings and fuselage. It had left the

Mitsubishi Nagoya aircraft factory on February 19, only three and a half

months earlier, so it was the latest design.

  Shortly before the bombs fell on Dutch Harbor that day, soldiers at an

adjacent Army outpost had seen three Zeros shoot down a lumbering Catalina

amphibian.  As the plane began to sink, most of the seven-member crew

climbed into a rubber raft and began paddling toward shore. The US soldiers

watched in horror as the Zeros strafed the crew until all were killed. The

Zeros are believed to have been those of Endo, Shikada, and Koga.

  After massacring the Catalina crew, Endo led his section to Dutch Harbor,

where it joined the other eight Zeros in strafing.  It was then (according

to Shikada, interviewed in 1984) that Koga's Zero was hit by ground fire. An

Army intelligence team later reported, "Bullet holes  entered the plane from

both upper and lower sides." One of the bullets severed the return oil line

between the oil cooler and the engine. As the engine continued to run, it

pumped oil from the broken line.  A Navy photo taken during the raid shows a

Zero trailing what appears to be smoke.  It is probably oil, and there is

little doubt that this is Zero 4593.

  After the raid, as the enemy planes flew back toward their carriers, eight

American Curtiss Warhawk P-40's shot down four VaI (Aichi D3A) dive bombers

thirty miles west of Dutch Harbor.  In the swirling, minutes-long dogfight,

Lt. John J. Cape shot down a plane identified as a Zero.  Another Zero was

almost instantly on his tail.  He climbed and rolled, trying to evade, but

those were the wrong maneuvers to escape a Zero.  The enemy fighter easily

stayed with him, firing its two deadly 20-mm cannon and two 7.7-mm machine

guns. Cape and his plane plunged into the sea. Another Zero shot up the P-40

of Lt. Winfield McIntyre, who survived a crash landing with a dead engine.

  Endo and Shikada accompanied Koga as he flew his oil-spewing airplane to

Akutan Island, twenty-five miles away, which had been designated for

emergency landings.  A Japanese submarine stood nearby to pick up downed

pilots. The three Zeros circled low over the green, treeless island. At a

level, grassy valley floor half a mile inland, Koga lowered his wheels and

flaps and eased toward a three-point  landing. As his main wheels touched,

they dug in, and the Zero flipped onto its back, tossing water, grass, and

gobs of mud. The valley floor was a bog, and the knee-high grass concealed

water.

  Endo and Shikada circled. There was no sign of life. If Koga was dead,

their duty was to destroy the downed fighter.  Incendiary bullets from their

machine guns would have done the job. But Koga was a friend, and they

couldn't bring themselves to shoot. Perhaps he would recover, destroy the

plane himself, and walk to the waiting submarine.  Endo and Shikada

abandoned the downed fighter and returned to the Ryujo, two hundred miles to

the south. (The Ryujo was sunk two months later in the eastern Solomons by

planes from the aircraft carrier Saratoga.  Endo was killed in action at

Rabaul on October 12, 1943, while Shikada survived the war and eventually

became a banker.)

  The wrecked Zero lay in the bog for more than a month, unseen by U.S.

patrol planes and offshore ships.  Akutan is often foggy, and  constant

Aleutian winds create unpleasant turbulence over the rugged island. Most

pilots preferred to remain over water, so planes rarely flew over Akutan.

However, on July 10 a U.S. Navy Catalina (PBY) amphibian returning from

overnight patrol crossed the island. A gunner named Wall called, "Hey,

there's an airplane on the ground down there. It has meatballs on the

wings." That meant the rising-sun insignia.  The patrol plane's commander,

Lt. William Thies, descended for a closer look. What he saw excited him.

Back at Dutch Harbor, Thies persuaded his squadron commander to let him take

a party to the downed plane.  No one then knew that it was a Zero.

  Ens. Robert Larson was Thies's copilot when the plane was discovered. He

remembers reaching the Zero. "We approached cautiously,  walking in about a

foot of water covered with grass. Koga's body, thoroughly strapped in, was

upside down in the plane, his head barely submerged in the water.  "We were

surprised at the details of the airplane," Larson continues.  "It was well

built, with simple, unique features. Inspection plates could be opened by

pushing on a black dot with a finger.  A latch would open, and one could

pull the plate out. Wingtips folded by unlatching them and pushing them up

by hand.  The pilot had a parachute and a life raft." Koga's body was buried

nearby.  In 1947 it was shifted to a cemetery on nearby Adak Island, and

later, it is believed, his remains were returned to Japan.

  Thies had determined that the wrecked plane was a nearly new Zero, which

suddenly gave it special meaning, for it was repairable. However, unlike

U.S. warplanes, which had detachable wings, the Zero's wings were integral

with the fuselage. This complicated salvage and shipping. Navy crews brought

the plane out of the bog. The tripod that was used to lift the engine, and

later the fuselage, sank three to four feet into the mud. The Zero was too

heavy to turn over with the equipment on hand, so it was left upside down

while a tractor dragged it on a skid to the beach and a barge. At Dutch

Harbor it was turned over with a crane, cleaned, and crated, wings and all.

When the awkward crate containing Zero 4593 arrived at North Island Naval

Air Station, San Diego, a twelve-foot-high stockade was erected around it

inside a hangar. Marines guarded the priceless plane while Navy crews worked

around the clock to make it airworthy.  (There is no evidence the Japanese

ever knew we had salvaged Koga's plane.)

  In mid-September, 1942, LCDR Eddie R. Sanders studied it for a week as

repairs were completed.  Forty-six years later he clearly remembered his

flights in Koga's Zero. "My log shows that I made twenty-four flights in

Zero 4593 from 20 September to 15 October 1942," Sanders told me. "These

flights covered performance tests such as we do on planes undergoing Navy

tests.

  The very first flight exposed weaknesses of the Zero that our pilots could

exploit with proper tactics. "The Zero had superior maneuverability only at

the lower speeds used in dog fighting, with short turning radius and

excellent aileron control at very low speeds.  However, immediately apparent

was the fact that the ailerons froze up at speeds above two hundred knots,

so that rolling maneuvers at those speeds were slow and required much force

on the control stick. It rolled to the left much easier than to the right.

Also, its engine cut out under negative acceleration [as when nosing into a

dive] due to its float-type carburetor. "We now had an answer for our pilots

who were unable to escape a pursuing Zero. We told them to go into a

vertical power dive, using negative acceleration, if possible, to open the

range quickly and gain advantageous speed while the Zero's engine was

stopped.  At about two hundred knots, we instructed them to roll hard right

before the Zero pilot could get his sights lined up. This recommended tactic

was radioed to the fleet after my first flight of Koga's plane, and soon the

welcome answer came back: "It works!'" Sanders said, satisfaction sounding

in his voice even after nearly half a century.

  Thus by late September 1942 Allied pilots in the Pacific theater knew how

to escape a pursuing Zero. "Was Zero 4593 a good representative of the Model

21 Zero?" I asked Sanders. In other words, was the repaired airplane 100

percent?  "About 98 percent," he replied.

  This zero was added to the U.S. Navy inventory and assigned its Mitsubishi

serial number.  The Japanese colors and insignia were replaced with those of

the U.S. Navy and later the U.S. Army, which also test-flew it. The Navy

pitted it against the best American fighters of the time: the P-38 Lockheed

Lightning, the P-39 Bell Airacobra, the P-51 North American Mustang, the

F4F-4 Grumman Wildcat, and the F4U Chance Vought Corsair-and for each type

developed the most effective tactics and altitudes for engaging the Zero.

  In February 1945 CDR Richard G. Crommelin was taxiing Zero 4593 at San

Diego Naval Air Station, where it was being used to train pilots bound for

the Pacific war zone. An SB-2C Curtiss Helldiver overran it and chopped it

up from tail to cockpit. Crommelin survived, but the Zero didn't.  Only a

few pieces of Zero 4593 remain today.  The manifold pressure gauge, the

air-speed indicator, and the folding panel of the port wingtip were donated

to the Navy Museum at the Washington, D.C., Navy Yard by RADM William N.

Leonard, who salvaged them at San Diego in 1945.  In addition, two of its

manufacturer's plates are in the Alaska Aviation Heritage Museum in

Anchorage, donated by Arthur Bauman, the photographer.

  Leonard recently told me, "The captured Zero was a treasure.  To my

knowledge no other captured machine has ever unlocked so many secrets at a

time when the need was so great." A somewhat comparable event took place off

North Africa in 1944-coincidentally on the same date, June 4, that Koga

crashed his Zero.

A squadron commanded by Capt. Daniel V. Gallery [USNA'21], aboard the escort

carrier Guadalcanal, captured the German submarine U-505, boarding and

securing the disabled vessel before the fleeing crew could scuttle it. Code

books, charts, and operating instructions rescued from U-505 proved quite

valuable to the Allies. Captain Gallery later wrote, "Reception committees

which we were able to arrange as a result . may have had something to do

with the sinking of nearly three hundred U-boats in the next eleven months."

By the time of U-505's capture, however, the German war effort was already

starting to crumble (D-day came only two days later), while Japan still

dominated the Pacific when Koga's plane was recovered.

A classic example of the Koga plane's value occurred on April 1, 1943, when

Ken Walsh, a Marine flying an F4U Chance-Vought Corsair over the Russell

Islands southeast of Bougainville, encountered a lone Zero. "I turned toward

him, planning a deflection shot, but before I could get on him, he rolled,

putting his plane right under my tail and within range. I had been told the

Zero was extremely maneuverable, but if I hadn't seen how swiftly his plane

flipped onto my tail, I wouldn't have believed it," Walsh recently recalled.

"I remembered briefings that resulted from test flights of Koga's Zero on

how to escape from a following Zero. With that lone Zero on my tail I did a

split S, and with its nose down and full throttle my Corsair picked up speed

fast. I wanted at least 240 knots, preferably 260. Then, as prescribed, I

rolled hard right. As I did this and continued my dive, tracers from the

Zero zinged past my plane's belly. From information that came from Koga's

Zero, I knew the Zero rolled more slowly to the right than to the left. If I

hadn't known which way to turn or roll, I'd have probably rolled to my left.

If I had done that, the Zero would likely have turned with me, locked on,

and had me. I used that maneuver a number of times to get away from Zeros."

By war's end Capt. (later LCOL) Kenneth Walsh had twenty-one aerial

victories (seventeen Zeros, three Vals, one Pete), making him the war's

fourth-ranking Marine Corps ace. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for two

extremely courageous air battles he fought over the Solomon Islands in his

Corsair during August 1943. He retired from the Marine Corps in 1962 after

more than twenty-eight years of service. Walsh holds the Distinguished

Flying Cross with six Gold Stars, the Air Medal with fourteen Gold Stars,

and more than a dozen other medals and honors.

  How important was our acquisition of Koga's Zero?  Masatake Okumiya, who

survived more air-sea battles than any other Japanese naval officer, was

aboard the Ryujo when Koga made his last flight. He later co-authored two

classic books, Zero and Midway.  Okumiya has written that the Allies'

acquisition of Koga's Zero was "no less serious" than the Japanese defeat at

Midway and "did much to hasten our final defeat."

If that doesn't convince you, ask Ken Walsh:  INSIDE THE ZERO

The Zero was Japan's main fighter plane throughout World War II. By war's

end about 11,500 Zeros had been produced in five main variants.  In March

1939, when the prototype Zero was rolled out, Japan was in some ways still

so backward that the plane had to be hauled by oxcart from the Mitsubishi

factory twenty-nine miles to the airfield where it flew. It represented a

great leap in technology. At the start of World War II, some countries'

fighters were open cockpit, fabric-covered biplanes.  A low-wing all-metal

monoplane carrier fighter, predecessor to the Zero, had been adopted by the

Japanese in the mid-1930's, while the U.S. Navy's standard fighter was still

a biplane.  But the world took little notice of Japan's advanced military

aircraft, so the Zero came as a great shock to Americans at Pearl Harbor and

afterward. A combination of nimbleness and simplicity gave it fighting

qualities that no Allied plane could match. Lightness, simplicity, ease of

maintenance, sensitivity to controls, and extreme maneuverability were the

main elements that the designer Jiro Horikoshi built into the Zero. The

Model 21 flown by Koga weighed 5,500 pounds, including fuel, ammunition, and

pilot, while U.S. fighters weighed 7,500 pounds and up. Early models had no

protective armor or self-sealing fuel tanks, although these were standard

features on U.S. fighters. Despite its large-diameter 940-hp radial engine,

the Zero had one of the slimmest silhouettes of any World War II fighter.

The maximum speed of Koga's Zero was 326 mph at 16,000 feet, not especially

fast for a 1942 fighter. But high speed wasn't the reason for the Zero's

great combat record. Agility was. Its large ailerons gave it great

maneuverability at low speeds.  It could even outmaneuver the British

Spitfire. Advanced U.S. fighters produced toward the war's end still

couldn't turn with the Zero, but they were faster and could out climb and

out dive it. Without self-sealing fuel tanks, the Zero was easily flamed

when hit in any of its three wing and fuselage tanks or its droppable belly

tank. And without protective armor, its pilot was vulnerable. In 1941 the

Zero's range of 1,675 nautical miles (1,930 statute miles) was one of the

wonders of the aviation world.  No other fighter plane had ever routinely

flown such a distance. Saburo Sakai, Japan's highest-scoring surviving World

War II ace, with sixty-four kills, believes that if the Zero had not been

developed, Japan "would not have decided to start the war."  Other Japanese

authorities echo this opinion, and the confidence it reflects was not, in

the beginning at least, misplaced.  Today the Zero is one of the rarest of

all major fighter planes of World War II.  Only sixteen complete and

assembled examples are known to exist.  Of these, only two are flyable: one

owned by Planes of Fame, in Chino, California, and the other by the

Confederate Air Force, in Midland, Texas.

  Note: Jim Rearden, a forty-seven-year  resident of Alaska, is the author

of fourteen books and more than five hundred magazine articles, mostly about

Alaska. Among his books is Koga's Zero: The Fighter That Changed World War

II, which can be purchased from Pictorial Histories Publishing Company, 713

South Third Street West, Missoula, MT 59801.