It was late November in 1941, out of the Pacific ocean as Commander Fuchida watched his men board their planes. He stood aboard the Akagi, Japan’s greatest carrier, watching the A6M-0 fighters move into place. He breathed a sigh of disappointment, because he knew he would never see these planes again.
To starboard, several submarines had emerged to deploy their mini-submarines at the same hour as the planes took off. Commander Fuchida recalled the meeting earlier in the year when young Sakamaki had sealed his fate inside one of those mini-subs. He would not obtain an honourable death.
In the distance, a low, white cloud lay suspended, as it appeared, over nothingness. Fuchida knew that that cloud hovered above the United States of America military base on the isles of Hawaii. That was his target. Those and the numerous battleships that lay anchored in her harbours. Especially the USS Arizona.
Fuchida was brought back to the moment as the fighter plane engines spun to life. To port, he heard the whirring of other motors, as, aboard the other carriers in the fleet, dozens upon dozens of fighter planes prepared for their attack.
The dawn was about to break, as was the world.