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428 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1957
In the Imperial Japanese Navy I learned only one trade—how to man a fighter plane and how to kill enemies of my country. This I did for nearly five years, in China and across the Pacific. I knew no other life; I was a warrior of the air.
The Outcast Who Became Emperor of the Skies
He was a school dropout, juvenile delinquent, and family disgrace—until he first stepped into an airplane. From that moment he soared into legend as Japan’s deadliest ace, and the most feared pilot of World War I.
SAMURAI! is the unforgettable saga of Saburo Sakai—a story of explosive action, violent victory, and personal agony that is absolutely true and vividly real . . . from the roaring of winged cannons in aerial combat, to the anguish of a defeated nation.
In April of 1944...With the secret reports available to me as an officer, I had been able to maintain a true appraisal of the war. The secret documents were a far cry from the drivel shouted over the radios to the unsuspecting populace. Everywhere in the Pacific our units were being forced back. Incredibly powerful American task forces, fleet units the size of which staggered the imagination, roamed the Pacific almost at will.
... We were still hanging on at Rabaul, but no longer did that once-mighty bastion threaten Moresby and the enemy’s other bases. Rabaul suffered in more ways than one. The Americans were using it for bombing practice, to break in their new replacements.
No longer was I myself inviolate. It had been the enemy’s turn then, and no less than a miracle had brought me here on this train as it swayed along the tracks leading to Sasebo. A man sees the war differently after the doctors have scraped away rotten flesh from his skull, have dug jagged steel splinters from his body, and comforted him with the staggering living-death sentence, “It is not so bad, Sakai, you will be only half blind.” Only half blind!
But to fly is just like swimming. You do not forget easily. I have been on the ground for more than ten years. If I close my eyes, however, I can again feel the stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left, the rudder bar beneath my feet. I can sense the freedom and the cleanliness and all the things which a pilot knows.
...that night, for the first time, I thought of the enemy pilots I had shot down as other human beings like myself, instead of unknown entities in their planes. It was a strange and depressing feeling, but, as with every other facet of war, it was kill or be killed.