You like to think as an ace you know your own capabilities. And you do, but a few hours is far too short a time to get to know an entire squadron of witches. Certainly not enough time to learn how they'll handle the cream of the Imperial Japanese Navy crop, which is no doubt being sent against Midway.
For all I've disparaged the IJN, we should keep in mind that right now, the
Kido Butai is the most experienced aircraft carrier squadron in the world, bar none. If nothing else, we're going up against some very talented pilots.
Somewhere out there on the ocean, bombers from Midway are raining death on the Japanese fleet.
I wonder if this is being rolled for? IRL, the Japanese got almost absurdly lucky that despite being attacked by over fifty different planes they emerged completely unscathed. Considering how fragile their carriers are, even a single hit from a level bomber would be a serious problem - let alone if that brave pilot was just a
little bit lower and literally decapitated the Japanese fleet's leadership. I like to imagine the Kami were intervening overtime to bail the 1st Fleet out, and by the time the USN showed up to take a swing the spirits were simply out of juice.
The bombers you have to escort though... they take their time. You're not familiar with carrier operations, besides the two times you witnessed them aboard the Gettysburg - which had a significantly larger flight deck - but if it walks like a clusterfuck, swims like a clusterfuck, quacks like a clusterfuck...
Carrier operations are hellishly difficult to coordinate, especially if you've had no real prior battlefield experience. The difference in performances of the
Yorktown (the veteran of Coral Sea) compared to the
Enterprise and the
Hornet was stark at Midway.
[ ] You see remembering their names as your duty as squadron leader - it's a small thing, but it may help build trust (Come up with them)
[ ] You blot all but their rank and surname from their mind - it will be easier to forget if they should fall
Just treating them like mooks seems incredibly callous, even if the death toll of our wild ride is likely to be severe.
Someone had said that getting every plane at the enemy as "fast" as possible was more important than coordinating, and you certainly hope they were right about getting to the destination faster, because they sure as hell aren't starting the journey any faster. It's closer to eight than seven when all of the Enterprise's torpedo bombers finally head for the carriers.
IJN: *Anguished Screaming* "How did they manage to coordinate their strikes so perfectly! Sacrificing their torpedo bombers to exhaust our CAP and prevent our carriers from launching an attack - the sheer genius and heroism displayed! It's impossible!"
USN: "If we have no idea what we're doing, the enemy will never be able to predict our plan!"
You form up on the bombers and leave the Enterprise and her escorts behind. You look worriedly at the squad leader of VT-6, a Lieutenant Commander Eugene Lindsey. He'd been fished out only a few days before when his plane stalled on landing and slid right off the deck. McCluskey had been surprised that he'd shown up for breakfast - and you were surprised that he let Lindsey fly. Even after a week of rigorous healing, and assistance from a healer witch aboard who looked a little too young for the job, he looked like hell. And still does.
He doesn't even have flight goggles on - can't put them on anyway, with the bruises on his face.
Hardcore.
You're not on radio silence, but the radio usage does taper off. For a few minutes, barring a course correction, you can just enjoy flying. The mix of clouds and open sky is a pain to fly through, but you've always liked that sort of challenge as long as nobody's shooting at you. The air is warm enough, the sea is clear enough, and nobody is shooting you right this second. Had you a camera, you'd take a picture of the spectacular cloudscapes that surround you.
The calm before the storm.
One of the other witches is the first to spot them.
"There!" she calls out with a gesture of her hand.
At this distance, even the largest ships are barely specks on the horizon, steam trailing from their smokestacks. But there's no mistaking it - the American fleet is miles behind you. And if you can see them, it won't be long before they can see you.
It's time.
And ... Here. We. Go.
The torpedo bombers know their shit - pick an aircraft carrier, split into two groups, and approach it at an angle so the ship has to be hit by at least one wave of fish. The crunch is that doing this puts them in a
hideously vulnerable position for an extended period of time. Good news is that the IJN's AA is dogshit, so we "only" have to worry about their CAP.
In other words, it's down to the fighter escort to win or lose the attack. And seeing as ours is currently completely lost, that means the Witches are going to have to hard-carry. Buckle up, ladies and gents, because this is gonna
suck.