Pearl Harbour - A novel of December 8th by William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich Read Free Book Online Page B

Americans say.”
    James did not even bother to ask Cecil for a refill of his drink; he poured a few more ounces for himself.
    “Your question about our training program,” Fuchida continued. “Yes, our program is tough but fair. I wash out three quarters of my students before they have even finished primary training. Better to frustrate them at the start and keep them on the ground then have them wind up killing themselves and destroying one of our precious frontline planes in the process. Three quarters more are grounded or transferred to be bombardiers and navigators, while in advanced training. To fly and land off the pitching deck of a carrier, I believe you have to be born with the instinct, and my job is to find those with that instinct and spare the lives of the rest.”
    “So you only graduate a hundred or so a year,” James replied.
    “You have been studying us, haven’t you?” Fuchida replied, now a bit wary.
    “It’s just that everyone’s carriers seem to be terribly expensive. By the time you are done, the pilots are literally worth their weight in gold. And as of yet, these new ships have yet to prove themselves in battle. My captain on board the Oklahoma says he can swat down carrier planes like flies as he closes in, and one salvo of fourteen-inch guns will end it, with the enemy carrier going straight to the bottom.”
    “Do you believe that?” Fuchida asked, a bit of a defensive note in his voice.
    “Just what my captain says,” James replied noncommittally.
    “Give us another five to seven years,” Fuchida announced proudly, and his voice was now eager, “you and us. The crates we fly now are not much better than what we all used in the last war. But your Devastator is a step forward. When a plane can lift off with a ton of weaponry, fly at two hundred miles an hour, and strike a target three hundred miles away, then your battleship admirals, and mine, will have to sing a different song.”
    “That American chap, Mitchell,” Cecil interjected. “That’s what he said after his planes sank that captured German battleship, and look what happened to him.”
    “That was stupidity. A shame how you Americans treated him,” Fuchida replied. “He should have been decorated, not dismissed.”
    James did not reply to that one. The Billy Mitchell incident was still a bit too hot to talk about. It was evident that the destruction his planes had wrought had been something of a setup, sinking a captured and condemned German battleship that was anchored in place and not maneuvering. Mitchell had gone outside the reservation with his outspoken opinions to the newspapers; but then again, maybe this eager pilot was right and progress would overtake the beloved ships of his navy. It was hard to imagine, though, that the old Oklahoma could ever be threatened by a crate made of canvas and wood, puttering along at a hundred miles an hour.
    “I’m curious as to how you two now see naval aviation and what your admirals are doing with it,” Fuchida asked, as he motioned for a refill of his drink, which Cecil quickly complied with.
    Cecil and James looked at each other. If this was an attempt to pump information it was done poorly.
    Fuchida laughed softly. “I’m not spying on two who more than a few have said are themselves spies. It’s just that I knew Commander Watson here witnessed the use of Saratoga and Lexington in your war games. In a way they are sister ships of Akagi and Kaga, since all were converted from being battle cruisers after the treaty was signed. Just wanted to catch up with you, Cecil, and hear what Commander Watson has to say.” James could sense a genuineness in this man. He was blunt, direct, and obviously filled with professional curiosity. And it was indeed curious, this relationship between sailors of what might be opposing nations. Between hostilities they would often openly talk about doctrine, publish articles each other had read in their respective journals, chat at