The Nakajima Kikka is a remarkable footnote to the history of military aviation, Japan’s last attempt to introduce a homegrown jet combatant into World War II. Conceived in desperation, the Kikka’s development from the ground up to its solitary flight is a testament to ambition, to innovation, and to wartime acceleration.
As the war reached its final stage, Japan attempted to bridge the technology gap with the Allies. Drawn by the German Me 262, the world’s first operational jet-engined fighter aircraft, the Japanese Naval Staff ordered the Nakajima company to produce their own twin-jet, single-seat attack bomber. The resulting Nakajima Kikka, or “Orange Blossom,” was Japan’s sole WWII jet plane to be powered by itself on takeoff, a testament to the successes of the nation despite its industrial challenges and technological disadvantage at the hands of the Allies.
Conceived by engineers Kazuo Ohno and Kenichi Matsumura, the Kikka followed the Me 262 visually but was made to serve Japan’s unique wartime requirements. It was an all-metal plane, with the exception of fabric-covered control surfaces, having a comparatively limited operational radius and top speed when compared to its German equivalent. The engines of the Kikka were placed in pods below the wings, which enabled engine testing without modifying the structure.
Japan’s entry into jet propulsion was a gamble. Technical challenges and logistics bogged down engine development. Yet Japanese engineers’ persistence and resourceful use of scarce materials, such as their own notes and photographs of an engineer from a German technical mission, led to the six-month development of the Ne-20 turbojet.
August 1945 was the peak of the Kikka’s brief rise. The initial prototype was complete, and on 7 August, Lieutenant Commander Susumu Takaoka flew the aircraft’s first flight. However, four days later, a second flight went catastrophically wrong as misaligned take-off rockets led to a crash in Tokyo Bay, ripping off the landing gear of the aircraft. The project was suddenly stopped on August 15, when Japan capitulated, and with that, the hopes of the Kikka taking to the skies in battle disappeared into the books of what could have been.
Afterwards, American troops discovered about 25 Kikkas in differing stages of construction inside a Nakajima factory building. When, in 2001, communication with Japanese propulsion specialist Kazuhiko Ishizawa was engaged, there were new discoveries regarding the post-war effect of the Kikka. Nakajima had constructed a Kikka airframe for load testing purposes, not flight, and its engine nacelles thus did not hold the Ne-20 engines.
The Kikka’s design, however poor a imitation of the Me 262’s success, was still quite remarkable given the circumstances of a nation laboring under the stress of prolonged warfare and resource restraint. With a wingspan of 10 meters, a length of 8.1 meters, and a height of 3 meters, the Kikka was no minor project. Fitted with two Ne-20 axial-flow turbojets, the plane carried the promise of Japan’s engineering capability and the born-of-necessity ingenuity stimulated by the emergency of wartime.
