It must have been a sickening sight for Japanese flyers—a pair of blocky blue fighters diving in from above. There was nowhere to go. The attackers were too heavy and moving too fast to avoid. It was impossible to run, nearly hopeless to even turn. In a few brief moments, the midnight blue aircraft eagerly plummeted thousands of meters, hurtling into firing range. Their blunt-nosed cowls gave the impression of soulless, grinning monsters, wickedly amused by this dire situation. A ripple of fire leapt from the leader's wings. A heartbeat later, heavy lead slugs sizzled through the air, tearing aluminum skin, shattering cockpit glass, and smashing through fuel tanks. Enemy forces on the ground or at sea didn't fare much better. The Grummans appeared at dawn and never left. Every blue U.S. Navy plane was called a "Grumman" by Japanese soldiers and sailors—Wildcats, Avengers, even Corsairs and Helldivers. But the planes that were seemingly everywhere, all the time, were Hellcats.
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