Over the northern waters of the Flame Sea.
As he made another turn, Genda glanced at his watch—it was exactly 9:15 AM. He had been piloting the Type 97 ship attack aircraft in circles for two rotations.
"Colonel, we have at most fifteen minutes of fuel left."
"Have the other squadrons found anything?"
"No." The navigator's response was crisp and to the point.
Had it not been for Genda's insistence, they would have turned back ten minutes ago.
Genda let out a sigh and said, "It seems the reconnaissance aircraft got it wrong. Call the nearby squadrons, let's get on with it, no more wasting time."
Following Genda's orders, about sixty kilometers to the south, the first to strike were twelve Type 99 ship bombers.
Attack?
Yes, indeed!
But the target was not the Third Aviation Mixed Fleet or a carrier fleet; it was a fleet oiler capable of speeds over twenty knots.
And escorting the oiler was a destroyer.
