If God ever decided to create a city that would be most vulnerable to a mass napalm attack, He would construct 1945 Tokyo. Estimates vary, but at that stage of the war the city’s population was roughly 6.5 million inhabitants, as opposed to around 3.5 million Berliners. Although the two Axis capitals had roughly the same overall average population density of between 8,000 to 10,000 per square mile, certain areas in Tokyo like the Asakusa workers district crammed 130,000 people into the same space. And, unlike Berlin, many of Tokyo’s houses, shops, and other structures were built of wood and featured paper walls. To make matters worse, even though Japan’s leaders understood the ominous threat posed by the now-in-range B-29s to the home islands due to the loss of the Marianas, they prioritized production over protecting their citizenry.
As such, there were only 18 concrete air raid shelters in all of Tokyo, capable of only shielding approximately 5,000 of the city’s 6.5 million inhabitants. The rest made do with shallow backyard dugouts and other makeshift shelters. In the entire city a mere 8,000 firefighters along with citizens practiced in forming bucket brigades were all that stood between them and $200 million-worth of a mighty industrial power’s most advanced war machines coming in low to dump over three million pounds of flaming gel onto their city. And as if Tokyo wasn’t exposed enough, the night of March 9-10, 1945, was cold with howling winds gusting at up to 50 mph, creating an ideal environment for fanning the flames.
In short, the stage was set for what would be the single most lethal day in the history of conventional warfare.
Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images
A little after midnight, just as Radio Tokyo was signing off and the air-raid sirens began to whine, the first group of pathfinder B-29s roared over the city. Flying in at right angles to each other, their mission was to paint a flaming “X” on the target area with incendiaries. Once the pathfinders did their work, the rest of the bombers appeared overhead in groups of three and began dropping their payloads onto their assigned quadrants. Residents would later recall how, in the words of Hashimoto Yoshiko, the bombers did not appear as they usually did as “dots in the sky with a tail.” This night was different. “They were flying so low,” she said, “I wondered if they would hit the utility poles…They were so big.”
The B-29 had a device called an intervalometer, which dropped a bundled cluster of M69s each weighing 500 pounds every 50 feet; the timing was such as to cover an area roughly 350 by 2,000 feet. Once they dropped to an altitude of 2,000, the clusters burst and showered the area with the incendiary pipe bombs; they floated to the ground like a “silver waterfall” as many observers commonly described the scene. A German priest watching from the Jesuit Sophia University perched on a hill overlooking the city remarked that it reminded him of “the silver tinsel we hung from Christmas trees in Germany…and where these silver streamers would touch the ground, a fire would erupt.”
With each detonation, a fountain of burning goo would shoot out in all directions and devour everything it touched. The high winds at ground level whipped the flames sending them spreading out rather than up. And when the fires merged, the wind gusts fanned the conflagration into a raging firestorm racing through the narrow streets, incinerating thousands of Japanese who realized too late their shallow dugouts were no protection from this rapidly advancing cataclysm consuming their city.
Within fifteen minutes of the first fires, Tokyo’s firefighters were completely overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude and violence of the spreading inferno, with one declaring “Hellfire is upon us!” Many would die in heroic, if futile, attempts to contain the conflagration that resulted from 8,519 clusters of M69s weighing 500 pounds, each bursting over their city and cascading down on them like a flaming deluge. One pilot recalled seeing burned out corpses of firefighters huddled around their engine that had melted like wax.
Succeeding waves of fliers had no problem spotting their targets. The flames were so bright, said one pilot, “the whole area was lighted as if it was broad daylight when we entered the drop zone.” Martin Sheridan, a correspondent for The Boston Globe, hitched a ride with the B-29 Patches, which was farther back in the bomber stream. He would write: “The navigator didn’t have to give the pilot bearings towards Tokyo because 40 miles from the blacked-out city we could see the reddish glow of the burning capital on the horizon.” Once over the target, Sheridan would report, “The area below me was a sea of flame.”
Credit: S. Smisek. Colorized image from a B-29.
The fires were so strong they sent updrafts whooshing thousands of feet into the air, tossing the giant Superfortresses through the demonic orange sky like leaves in the wind. Several bombers were flipped over on their backs; crewmen not firmly buckled in their seats went tumbling wildly through their fuselages. Although the updrafts posed a very real danger and pushed pilots’ skills to the limit, enemy action was barely a factor. Anti-aircraft gunners, confused by the darkness and unexpected low altitudes, tried to put their spotlights on bombers above them while frantically adjusting their barrels to intercept the speeding machines but with little success. The B-29 crews reported back to LeMay: “Bombing the target visually. Flak moderate. Fighter opposition: nil.”
LeMay’s gamble had paid off. It turned out the enemy had plenty of small caliber guns that could reach up to 5,000 feet, and heavier flak cannons ranging between 10,000 and 30,000, but the window through which the general sent over 300 of his nation’s most expensive hardware and thousands of highly trained crewmen was wide open. After all, who would be mad enough to fly bombers in at that altitude? Although his commander would wait for follow-up reconnaissance photos the next day to assess the damage, one staffer on Guam that night remembered the taciturn LeMay chomping his cigar and saying, “It looks pretty good.” He even managed a hint of a smile.
National Archives. Public domain.
No one caught in the fiery cauldron below, however, was smiling. Fueled by the ferocious winter winds, the firestorm ripped through the city like a red hot cyclone. Recalled Matsumoto Yoshio, just fifteen at the time, “I left my house (in Chuo district) and looked east. All of Sumida district and Koto district was engulfed in red.” Survivors would remember seeing people stumbling through the streets while fiery tentacles flailed at them, setting them ablaze. Teenager Ono Kimei was running for her life through the conflagration when she saw a fleeing mother carrying her small child ahead of her. “Suddenly the firestorm swept out a finger to lick them, and in a second the mother and child burst into flames…Their clothes afire, they staggered and fell to the ground.”
The inferno soon spread well beyond LeMay’s chosen target area. The firestorm not only created hurricane-force winds of flames, but the intense heat reached an astounding 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit in some areas, blowing liquified glass into the air which then rained down on people like a searing hot shower. Even those who managed to escape incineration by direct exposure to the fires cried out in agony as the intense heat alone was enough to burn their clothes off their bodies. Thousands more suffocated as the firestorm greedily devoured any oxygen.
In desperation to escape the hellfire, panicked mobs of Tokyo residents stampeded towards any water they could find, such as the massive swimming pool inside the Futaba School. But the pool water offered no protection this night in which superheated vapors rushing ahead of the tsunami of flames cooked the air up to the same temperature as a blast furnace. The next morning over a thousand pink and scorched bodies were found crammed within; it was bone dry as all the water had boiled away. Others raced for the Sumida River whose Kototoi Bridge was a bonfire as the metal trestles had long been removed to be melted into munitions and replaced with now flaming wooden beams. A bundle of M69s burst right over the crowded span, effectively cooking anyone who didn’t jump into the water. “People were burning to death on the bridge,” recalled Hashimoto. “Clothes would burst into flames. My hair caught fire. Everyone was screaming.”
Kototoi Bridge. Public Domain.
When dropping bombs from up in the stratosphere, airmen are somewhat shielded by what psychologists call “the morality of altitude” wherein they are presented not with fellow human beings way down there on the ground, but rather just “targets”. But at a mere 5,000 feet there was no denying the horrors they were inflicting on the people below. Bombardier Maynard David recalled: “When the bomb bay doors opened, the plane filled with smoke from the ground and we smelled this horrible odor. We closed the bomb bay doors after we dropped and headed out to sea. The odor was still so strong in the plane the pilot ordered me to open the doors again to let the fresh air in. You could only imagine what was going on down below us.” The odor was the aroma of burning flesh. The sickeningly sweet smell permeated aircraft and uniforms for days after.
Two-and-a-half hours after the first B-29 appeared overhead, the last of the American “fire devils” plotted a southerly course over the ocean and headed back to base 1,200 miles away. Unfathomable scenes of horror were playing out in the blazing city behind them. But to a relieved LeMay, the mission had been a success beyond expectation.
In a single raid, the B-29 was vindicated and the entire trajectory of the war had been altered. Curtis “Bombs Away” LeMay had his template. No city in Japan was safe. And hence forward all of Dai Nippon, the land of the Rising Sun whose jackbooted conquerors had so recently lorded over the Western Pacific from China to Burma to New Guinea to the Aleutian Islands would suffer the wrath of his B-29s and their rain of fiery death from the sky.
Japan’s celebrated Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku is rumored to have uttered a chilling prognostication after his surprise attack on Pearl Harbor a little over three years before: “I fear we have awakened a sleeping giant, and filled him with a terrible resolve.” Whether he really said this or not, one doubts that even the imaginative Yamamoto, had he lived, could have envisioned just what a terrible resolve Curtis LeMay and his fleet of B-29s that would soon number over 1,000 Superfortresses at his disposal had in store for his people. America’s hellfire of retribution had begun.
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Brad Schaeffer is a commodities fund manager, author, and columnist whose articles have appeared on the pages of The Daily Wire, The Wall Street Journal, NY Post, NY Daily News, National Review, The Hill, The Federalist, Zerohedge, and other outlets. He is the author of three books. Follow him on Substack and X/Twitter.
The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.
