A handful of American fighters had tried to intercept the attack and been beaten off with substantial losses. As predicted, their attacks were uncoordinated and offered more proof that neither their pilots nor their tactics were up to Japanese standards. Most of the Americans had been shot down, with only a few losses to the Japanese air fleet. Fuchida now concluded the American planes were also inferior to the Japanese Zero. So much for the myth of American technology, he thought.

Predictably, Admiral Nagumo had lost his nerve and tried to cancel the attack. When Fuchida received the radio message, he’d first ignored it and then said it was too late-the attack had already begun. It had been a small lie but an effective one. The planes were only minutes away from Pearl and had doubtless been sighted.

As they flew over the burning harbor, the rear gunner took pictures, and Fuchida thought it was a shame they weren’t in color. The harshness of the contrast between the loveliness of the harbor and the cruelty of the fires would make a marvelous picture if only someone could capture the vivid colors.

Japanese losses had been even lighter than he’d hoped, with only a few planes falling from antiaircraft fire as they flew over Ford Island and turned westward. Fuchida genuinely felt the loss of American lives as well as those of his own men. He had planned and fought for Japan and would again, but the devastation upset him. The carnage below should not have happened. Why hadn’t America seen reason and avoided war?

Enough, he thought. Perhaps someday he’d know the answer. Fuchida promised himself that, when the war was over, he’d learn more about the United States and the beliefs of her people. What little he knew fascinated him. Perhaps he would even visit there.