Last Flight of the Buffaloes - a World War II Story on the Fall of Java

Chapter 2 - Dogfight over Banten

Van Helsdingen's flight was joined by desert-camouflaged Hawker Hurricanes not long after. Being freshly shipped out of Africa, the pilots of 605 Squadron RAF had seen significant action against the Germans, probably dating far back up to the early stages of the war. But the Japanese played a wholly different game: whereas the British planes could outturn the Germans at lower speeds, the lighter Japanese Ki-43 'Hayabusa' and A6M 'Zero', made in some part of wood, could outturn them in most altitudes. A good number of comrades had been lost in underestimating--or falsely calculating--Japanese swiftness in the air. The only key, in the event of encounters, was to dive and shoot, or 'boom and zoom' and retain as much speed as possible. The heavier European and American planes now played the role of the German to what they did against the British for years, and some newer pilots got carried away thinking they could win in a more honest dogfight.

A few minutes passed and they found themselves, supposedly, on the beaches, if not for the visually-unnavigable thick clouds. The Hurricanes waved away to go lower and deliver their loads, while the Buffaloes stayed high. Seeing the Japanese landing from above, Drebbel spotted Japanese troop transports sprawling over the white beaches and a Dutch coastal defense tower still burning from last night's landing.

Drebel did not dare to say it, but he knew that there was a generally negative outlook to this all. As the Hurricanes dived for strafing rounds, van Helsdingen raised the radio: "all Reds this is Red lead... Just gotten info that Blackforce is withdrawing to halt the Japanese advance near Buitenzorg. We are to cover their retreat. Stick together. We'll change courses soon enough."

They went on, then heading off to an opening from the clouds... It was there that Drebbel saw a few dark spots in the sky not far above them. He called it in: "Red Lead, this is Red Two--I have visual on around six bandits to our Northwest, high."

"Roger, I see them. Turn when they dive. Cover each other." Helsdingen said.

"Roger."

The dark paint of their fuselages denoted them being Imperial Japanese Army aircraft, and flying that high probably meant they were fighters. As they got themselves ready, suddenly there was the sound of foreign hums of an engine... Right on top of them!

Then there were knocks and cracks, the sound of a machinegun firing, which harmlessly missed the four Buffaloes, as it zoomed past them, followed by another. Another pair came in, and Drebbel saw some rounds finding their way to Bruggink's Buffalo, but not fatally, taking small hits on the right wing.

As training dictated, they broke up. "Break break break!"

Bruggink and Drebbel flew away from the four-plane section, gunning the engine to point the nose up and release a few, useless shots against the Ki-43s that zoomed back up into the clouds.

"Whatever the cost, don't let those fighters get to the Hurricanes!"

The radio began howling in chaos as both panicked and controlled calls were being made. Drebbel then went stable, following Bruggink's path. He frantically looked around his cockpit for the Japanese fighters, and for a few moments they disappeared, until their engines were heard once more. "Coming in from our 2 o'clock, high!" yelled Drebbel,

"Break em! We'll chase them in a dive!" said Bruggink.

The diving Japanese zoomed on them, and the leading plane headed for Bruggink, who then quickly turned right, while Drebbel turned left. And in that split second he gunned his throttle, and turned to point his nose against the Ki-43's path, then, aligning his sights with the path of the Japanese, he opened fire in several quick bursts. RATATAT. RATATTATA. RATTATA.

A small hint of smoke came from the Japanese pilot's tail, and he quickly dove down and away, as quickly as he had come in. He was not seen again. The other engaged Bruggink, and Bruggink called in for help, having been a bullet magnet for most of the maneuvers. Drebbel tried to spot them and found them flying lower, so he used his altitude advantage to dive. He lowered the throttle in fear of losing control, lining up his guns once more... And just at that final moment, the Japanese pilot turned away in an S-turn, diving, then and headed to the relative safety of the beach's anti-aircraft artillery.

The Hurricane squadron's leader called in, saying that they've expended ammunition. Their work was no less than impressive, however: trails of smoke from bombed and strafed Japanese convoys were visible from where the Buffaloes flew, and although a momentary victory, it seemed, Drebbel saw that it was a mere hint of pause in a long rainstorm...

Another group of Japanese troop transport ships appeared in the distance, bringing even more support to the surging Japanese invaders. Their feeble raid had barely made a dent.

They headed back to Bandoeng with a false sense of happiness. Drebbel was congratulated for his third Japanese kill, but it really felt like it meant nothing to him. Listening to the base radio later that night (no more flights could be called in as fuel supply was sparse), he heard of the ground troops' desperate attempts to hold off the Japanese advance.

Speaking in English, which he understood from school (though the mix of American, British, and Australian accents made him utterly confused), the combined ground element of ABDACOM led by Brigadier Arthur Blackburn, dubbed Blackforce, were holding their ground if not barely. Desperate calls for artillery support was steadily delivered by an American National Guard artillery unit, as machine gun fire and explosions and shouts dominated the radio. Whatever they were doing, they were doing it right--for when the next morning came for another sortie, Blackforce managed to hold the Japanese advance.

The next question was: for how long? A day? A week? A month? Hell... A couple hours? This great news put the spirit back into the Dutch Buffalo pilots. Little did they know their days were numbered, and even so, enough for a handful of fingers to count.

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