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A few days later we left Hokota for our training base at Kō-no-Iké, arriving there in the morning. (See this map.)

721 Squadron was designated Jinrai Butai (Divine Thunderbolt Corps). As we made our way up the road leading to the squadron’s gate a bomber flew right over our heads at low level. Attached to its fuselage was a small, silver-colored aircraft that looked like a small shark. That’s it, I thought, swallowing hard.

We fly Zeros

After reporting, we were taken to our barracks. Everyone was wearing their uniforms and flying shoes and looking happy. Nothing about anyone’s behavior intimated that they might end up dead before too long. The building was a hive of activity, with people hurrying to and fro with their shoes thumping noisily on the wood floor. 

I met a number of former classmates. One of my senior classmates was Flight Seaman Kyō Watabe. When he saw Nishimoto he burst out laughing and said, “Hey, Nishi! We’re all done for. Once you get here it’s all over.” 

That was a reality check for us.

“What do we do here?” 

“We fly Zeros.”

“Oh, so this is a fighter group?”

“No, that’s just for starters. We fly the Zeros to learn how to fly land planes. Then we take ‘em up high, cut the power and dive almost straight down.”

“What for?”

“To learn how to glide. I can’t explain it all now, but they drop the K-1 from 3,000 meters and we have to glide it to a pre-determined point. You descend almost vertically!”

Curious as hell

When I asked him why he called it the K-1 he told me that that was the temporary name of it before they decided on the official name of Ohka. Another name for it was Marudai.

The K-1 was originally conceived by Lt. Seiichi Ohta, a crew member on a Type 1 reconnaissance bomber, and he came up with the name Marudai. However, it’s official designation was MXY7-K-1, so both Marudai and K-1 were used.

Since we’d been given no information about our new assignment, we were curious as hell to learn about this new special attack plane, especially since the hopes of the entire navy were resting on it. The day after our arrival I finally got a look at it.

After finishing the evening meal everyone else went outside to horse around and have a smoke, but the three of us stayed behind. That’s when one of Fumoto’s former classmates came over and said, “Hey, you guys seen it yet?”

“The thing?”

“What else? You see it?”

“No, not yet. I don’t think they’ll let us.”

“What’re you talking about? Come on, let’s go. There’s nothin’ to worry about. You’re gonna be flyin’ it aren’t you? Let’s have a look.”

“You sure it’s okay?”  

“The other ranks and even the officers can’t get in there, but hell, we’re actually gonna fly and die in it. Who’s gonna stop you? Just wear your flying shoes. If they see you’re pilots they won’t say anything.”

Like winged torpedoes

As Fumoto and I hurried eagerly to the airfield we talked excitedly about what the device was like. At last, after months of speculation, we’d get a close up look at the new super weapon we had heard and thought so much about.

The K-1s were housed in a brown, medium-sized hangar in front of which stood an armed guard. But the only thing we could see that looked like an airplane was a big Type 1 bomber that was being serviced. Then we saw them. Sleek and purposeful, they looked like winged torpedoes and were painted a peach color. 

Moving closer, I struck its fuselage lightly with my hand and was surprised at how solid it felt. Then I opened the canopy and climbed inside. With the canopy closed it felt stuffy and hot.

Neatly clustered on the small panel were the minimal required instruments: airspeed indicator, altimeter, artificial horizon, turn and bank indicator and flap setting indicator. What differentiated it from a typical airplane panel was a large switch placarded: ‘Rocket ON/OFF’.

When seated, the top of my head almost touched the canopy. However, while the canopy appeared too large for the small fuselage when viewed from outside, from inside it didn’t feel especially spacious. 

Just to the right of the seat was the flap-setting indicator. Above it was a release mechanism to facilitate quick egress in an emergency. A hard pull on its handle would detach a 60 cm panel making it easier for the pilot to bail out of the narrow cockpit. 

However, this feature could only be used during training and was not fitted to the combat versions.

Pilot comforts

Another item of equipment unique to the training K-1s was the parachute. The seat of the combat units was simply a flat piece of wood, but the training K-1s had parachutes installed on the seat so the pilots had something soft to sit on. 

A control lock was installed which was used to prevent the control stick and rudder bar from moving. It was held in place with a long, thin metal fixture. This was an absolute necessity when the K-1 was attached to the belly of the bomber in flight without the pilot aboard. Without it the wind blast would cause the rudders and wings to flutter violently, potentially damaging both aircraft.

The pilot’s first task upon entering the K-1 was to strap on and secure the parachute. Then he had to remove the control lock. This was somewhat awkward, but if the pilot wasn’t overly excited the control lock could be removed in about one minute. 

To prevent the pilot’s thighs from slamming into the instrument panel when the K-1 dropped from the Type 1, he would fasten a soft pad to his lap.

Hard to believe it would actually fly

The K-1 had dual rudders that nestled snugly around the bomber’s lower fuselage. The wings were mounted low on its fuselage, while the horizontal stabilizer was high-mounted. Basically, it was a torpedo fitted with wings. It was hard to believe it would actually fly. 

The wings were so small relative to its weight, and the wing loading was so high that only at high airspeeds could the wings generate sufficient lift for it to fly without stalling. This meant that steep, high-G turns had to be avoided. As if that weren’t enough, the main wings had both dihedral and anhedral. 

My first impression of the K-1 was that the nose looked excessively long. The manufacturer’s name was outlined at the rear of the fuselage and read ‘Yokosuka Naval Air Technical Arsenal’.

NEXT TIME: Like a fish out of water >

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These extracts are from the diary of Masa’aki Saeki, trainee Yokosuka MXY-7/K-1 Ohka pilot, 721^st Kōkūtai Jinrai Butai, Imperial Japanese Navy.

Translated by Nicholas Voge and shared with permission.

Nicholas Voge is a retired Pt. 135 airline pilot who spent his younger years living in Japan where he worked as a translator, copywriter and riding model for the Japanese motorcycle manufacturers. His translations include The Miraculous Torpedo Squadron, The Inn of the Divine Wind and Kaiten Special Attack Group, A Story of Stolen Youth.