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ABOUT
THE AUTHOR Former
journalist, businessman and entrepreneur, Richard Tomkies has travelled
extensively throughout a number of countries, including He
has spent much of the last thirty-two years in the tropical north of BY
THE SAME AUTHOR Cannibals’ Gold Valley of the Damned
Chapter
One The
winter sun sparkled off the blue Pacific Ocean some twenty thousand feet below
the Zero as it cruised comfortably at around 250 miles per hour. The morning sun
illuminated the countless outcrops of coral far below, which formed part of the
Great Barrier Reef. Pilot Officer Takeo Matsumaro glanced down through the Perspex
of the cockpit’s canopy at the dense green jungle that stretched for miles off
his starboard wing. The vegetation was separated from the lapping waves of the
sea by a line of gleaming white coral sand. Glancing up and around the azure
blue sky he could see nothing that warranted his attention. Earlier, however, he
had encountered a couple of American Hellcat fighters, but after a quick and
decisive dogfight, the enemy planes had proven no match for the superior speed
of his Ki-61 Hien or Flying Swallow as the new model Zero had been named. The
1175 hp Kawasaki-powered fighter, known by the enemy forces as the ‘Tony,’
was capable of a maximum 348 mph and was highly manoeuvrable. Matsumaro decided to proceed south, along northern
Australia’s eastern coastline, to search for some likely targets. He still had
enough ammunition for the wing-mounted 20mm cannons as well as his two 7.7
machine-guns to allow him to attack anything he might come across, particularly
on the ground. The sun’s rays pouring into the cockpit over his left shoulder
warmed him through his flying jacket. At his present altitude, the warmth was
particularly welcome. With his gloved right hand resting lightly on the control
column, and his thumb never far away from the firing button, Takeo Matsumaro was
itching for more action. He adjusted his goggles with his left hand as he peered
along the coastline that stretched ahead. Squinting his eyes, he looked hard at
something glinting in the sun,
barely discernable amongst the trees. Almost at once, he noticed a white boat at
anchor near the shore. Gently pushing the control column forward, Matsumaro put the
Zero into a shallow dive and immediately the speed indicator increased rapidly.
The object ahead and below quickly grew larger as the Zero approached. Banking
to the left for a moment, then to the right, he deftly brought the nose of the
plane around and headed toward what appeared to be a couple of small buildings,
almost hidden from view by the surrounding jungle. The larger of the two
structures sat on the top of a small hill, and even from that height, Takeo
could see the rusting patches on the iron roof. Increasing the angle of the dive, Matsumaro zoomed down to
treetop level and roared over the small house and an adjoining building. Nearby,
a small jetty protruded out into the sea, with a motor launch tied at the end,
an enemy ensign fluttering from the stern. This was an opportunity not to be
missed, thought Takeo, the corners of his eyes creasing slightly as he peered
down at this easy soft target. Hauling gently back on the controls, Matsumaro put the Zero
into a steep climb before levelling out to bank sharply to the left. Looking
over his shoulder as he throttled his speed back, he could see a number of
people running from the buildings. A slight smile played around the corner of
his lips as he flicked the switch from the cannon to the machine-guns mounted
above the engine. With a little right rudder and a touch on the control column
to the right, he positioned the aircraft back towards his intended target. Dropping the plane’s nose, the buildings loomed into view
through the windshield. His thumb pressed the firing button and the twin
machine-guns spewed their lethal messengers of death, kicking up small fountains
of dirt as they raced towards the larger building. In the next second, it had
gone from view as the Zero, pulling out of its shallow dive, howled across the
small jetty, coconut tree tops flashing past his cockpit. The white launch tied
to the jetty rocked gently as the aircraft headed out across the sea. Matsumaro banked steeply to starboard and headed back towards
the shore, throttling the engine back at the same time. The plane’s speed
dropped accordingly, and the pilot craned his neck over his right shoulder as he
flew back across his target in an endeavour to assess the damage. Before putting
the plane into a steep bank, Matsumaro quickly took in the scene below. Apart
from a small column of smoke that rose from the larger building, and a
bullet-riddled roof, the damage seemed rather minimal, he thought, straightening
the Zero as he flew low past the house. He didn’t notice a figure near the
building aiming something towards the plane. Glancing at his fuel gauge, he
automatically made some rapid calculations before he proceeded to gain altitude,
at the same time switching to the two 20mm cannons. One last pass and he’d
deliver his coup de grace before heading back to his base in New Guinea
across the Torres Strait. This time he would destroy the launch at the jetty
with cannon fire as well, ensuring total destruction of the enemy base. A split second before he began to ease the control column
back, Takeo Matsumaro felt his aircraft judder slightly. Suddenly, across his
starboard wing, bullet holes appeared, their edges flowering upwards across his
starboard wing. A bullet ricocheted through the cockpit, narrowly missing his
legs, to hit the port side of the Perspex canopy, which immediately cracked
around a jagged hole. Matsumaro knew instantly his plane was being fired on from
below – and already a small stream of smoke had started to pour from the
engine, inducing Takeo to change his mind and immediately head northwards back
to base. Quickly the Japanese pilot looked up and around, his keen
brown eyes searching the clear blue sky, but there were no other aircraft about.
He was safe from attack there. Ha! He had been shot at from below. He hadn’t
anticipated being fired at by the enemy ‘round-eyes’, believing his surprise
attack would have eliminated any opposition. Now, however, he had other things
with which to occupy his mind. He cast an expert eye over the plane’s
instrument panel, noticing with some concern that already the oil pressure had
begun to drop. The fuel gauge reading was fine, and quickly he calculated he had
enough gasoline to get him home, but obviously this was not going to be his
problem. Throttling back slightly in order to keep the engine revs
down, he glanced at the altimeter – a little under one hundred feet. At this
altitude he would be hard-pressed to use his parachute, he thought. On an
impulse, Takeo reversed his decision, and gently increased the throttle in an
attempt to gain enough altitude to permit him to eject and safely employ his
parachute. However, this action caused the stream of smoke to increase from the
now roughly-running engine and together with the rapidly dropping oil pressure,
put paid to his intention of trying to reach his base. He knew he was now in big
trouble! With a final glance at the instrument panel, Matsumaro quickly decided
his course of action. Maybe if he followed the beach he might find a suitable
place to bring his beloved Zero down for a crash landing. Takeo looked down at the small strip of sand below. His gaze
followed the coastline, taking in all the details. The tide was apparently in,
which didn’t leave much in the way of a suitable place on which to crash-land
his plane. Above the high-water mark, there were what looked to be large sand
dunes. Here and there, the jungle had receded back from the beach, but in its
place were mangrove-lined creeks, uninviting to say the least. Wondering vaguely if crocodiles were as bad here as in the
rivers of New Guinea, his attention returned rapidly back to the instruments in
front of him as a subtle change in the noise of the motor warned him of
impending trouble. As the aircraft’s speed decreased, so did its altitude.
Realising that he had to prepare for the worst, Takeo was searching frantically
for a suitable place to put down his crippled Zero when the motor suddenly
spluttered and seized. Less than a mile ahead, a wide patch of sand dunes appeared,
and instinctively, Matsumaro headed towards it, pushing the control column
forward to put the fighter into a nose-down attitude in order to maintain flying
speed. With the engine now silent, the airman could hear the air as it whistled
through the hole in the cockpit floor and the canopy. The controls felt sluggish
as he struggled with them trying desperately to keep the powerless aircraft
flying. Now, with the small stretch of beach rapidly looming towards him, Takeo
extended the flaps fully, reducing speed, hauling back on the stick at the same
time in an attempt to stall the plane and pancake into the soft sand just above
the high-water mark. Bracing for the inevitable impact, he was thrown hard against
his harness as the plane, bouncing violently, buried itself into the sand, which
billowed high into the air, carrying with it driftwood and other debris to
shower back over the thin metal fuselage. The lightly built plane was not
designed for such treatment, and as the aircraft buried its nose into the sand,
the port-side wing sheared off as it collected the base of a small stand of
coconut trees. The starboard wing folded back with the impact, while the
fuselage with a hideous sound of screeching and tearing ploughed into violent
contact with the ground until the engine nacelle hit a large log half-buried in
the sand, arresting the progress of the disintegrating plane with one immense
crash. The last thing Pilot Officer Takeo Matsumaro remembered was the sand
dunes rushing to greet him with frightening speed – then a quiet enveloping
blackness swept over him … Click on the cart below to purchase this book:
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