That Time When I Was Suddenly Reincarnated in a Fleet Battle

Chapter 61 - We Took Them by Surprise

At the same time as the sunset, the bow waves of the Second Fleet increased to 24 knots and accelerated towards Midway.

"Well then, I'm off."

"Please take care. We pray for your success," in response to my casual farewell, Vice Admiral Nagumo replied and offered concise words of encouragement.

During the Second Battle of the Coral Sea and the Second Battle of Midway, I would have faced difficulties going on the sortie, but since the Second Battle of the Indian Ocean, objections to my participation had diminished. By this time, his attitude was surprisingly easygoing. Well, it might be because the level of trust has increased, but on the other hand, the mission assigned to me is significant. Since I was the one who proposed this operation, it was inevitable that I would burden myself with a heavy responsibility.

I went to the stern deck of the Musashi and settled into the rear seat of the assigned F1M observation plane. Then, it was catapulted.

As our seaplane was launched, similar silhouettes from other battleships and heavy cruisers were launching one after another. Six planes from both Musashi and Yamato and three planes each from other battleships and heavy cruisers, totaling 42 F1Ms, formed up in a loose formation and pointed their noses south. Since it was night, the formation was loose with spaced intervals, but the altitude was dangerously low. It was a measure to sneak through the radar waves of Midway base, but at the same time, the crews of the 42 F1Ms were all seasoned veterans, each one a formidable expert (except for me). These aircraft were planning to circumvent the west side of Midway while the enemy's attention was focused on the Second Fleet, and then attack the island from the southwest, where the enemy's vigilance was weak.

I took the lead in guiding the formation. My ability to make this possible without navigation skills was thanks to sensing magic. Indeed, for a large target like Midway, its presence could be sensed from quite a distance. Continuing south from the west side of Midway, I instructed the pilot to turn the nose to the northeast at an appropriate point. At the same time, the Zuisei engines of the F1M began to hum, accelerating. However, despite the sound and vibration, the increase in speed did not feel significant. Well, it couldn't be helped, as it was a slow-moving aircraft that didn't reach 400 kilometers per hour. Still, it was surprising that such aircraft were being used for fighter-like maneuvers.

While pondering such unnecessary thoughts, advancing almost crawling over the sea surface at ultra-low altitude for a while, the low ridgeline of Midway Atoll appeared to my eyes as if melting into the darkness. The enemy probably hadn't detected us on radar, but they likely sensed our presence through the noise. As agreed beforehand, just before reaching directly above Midway, I released a flare. The white brilliance illuminated the entire Midway Island base. The F1Ms, except for mine, raised their altitude slightly and began to disband into their respective squadrons.

The current scene was overwhelming. Various aircraft of different sizes were densely lined up in the parking area next to the runway at Midway. Roughly estimating, there might be 200 or more planes. Projectiles were launching from Midway Island. The prompt response of the US military was nothing short of impressive. Perhaps the painful lessons learned from the attack on Pearl Harbor were reflected in their swift reactions.

While internally praising the prompt response of the US military, my eyes, enhanced by night vision and farsight magic, identified the twin-engine planes attempting to race through the runway. Twin-engine planes with propellers advanced to the same position as the nose tip.

Those are Beaufighters.

Two of them seemed to be trying to take off in a seemingly panicked manner. If those two planes were night-fighter types, it would be very troublesome. From their perspective, the F1Ms were just decoys. In a rushed manner, I also unleashed two fireballs with automatic tracking magic toward the Beaufighters. Those hit by the direct impact of the red fireballs shattered into pieces, scattering wreckage on the runway, effectively becoming obstacles. I continued to focus on the runway, but it seemed that only those two planes had attempted to take off.

By that time, 41 F1Ms excluding mine had smashed two 60-kilogram bombs they were carrying onto the aircraft lined up on the apron. Despite being small-sized bombs, the effects were dramatic. All the parked aircraft, laden with fuel, ammunition, bombs, and torpedoes, must have exploded in a chain reaction. Midway base was enveloped in a blaze of crimson flames and black smoke. Along with this, the enemy's anti-aircraft fire also became sporadic. Either due to poor visibility caused by the thick smoke or forced retreat due to high temperatures, the reason was unclear.

The F1Ms that had dropped bombs were relentless. They showered 7,7 mm bullets on ground facilities or seemingly less damaged American planes. Even with the feeble machine guns, if enough rounds were fired, the enemy would not escape unscathed. For the US military, deploying a large number of aircraft to the narrow Midway Atoll, in other words, clustering them together, proved to be a fatal mistake. While the runway itself suffered little damage, the surrounding area became a literal sea of fire, a graveyard of aircraft. With this intensity of fire, there were probably very few aircraft that could survive.

"We took them by surprise."

I sighed in relief and murmured those famous words in my mind.