Major Jenkins gave the commands, “Crew, a—tten—shun,” followed by, “Pa—rade rest!” The senior Chaplain then read the service. Major Jenkins brought everyone back to attention.
At his command, “Firing party, Pre—sent arms.” every service member regardless of nation saluted. Sheppard noted that not one German gave the Nazi stiff arm. If only someone could get rid of the German leadership, this war would be over.
Sheppard following the old tradition had reserved the next part of the service for himself as the Captain of the ship.
He somberly began, “Unto Almighty God we commend the souls of our shipmates departed, and we commit their bodies to the deep …”
One at a time each stretcher tilted until the canvas wrapped body slid from beneath the flag. “ … in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection unto eternal life when the sea shall give up its dead, through our Lord, Jesus Christ, Amen.” Sheppard could not watch as it became the turn for the American; lifting his eyes to the heavens in a silent prayer for his loyal orderly. It was too painful to see Corporal Pease consigned to an undeserved and early grave.
Major Jenkins brought the assembled military members back to parade rest for the Chaplain’s benediction. As a final respect by the assembled crew, the Major returned everyone back to attention ordered a hand salute, and then barked the orders, “Firing party, fire three volleys.” “Ready, aim, fire; aim, fire; aim, fire. Present arms!”
As the last crack of the rifle fire echoed off the nearest ships, the bugler began playing Taps. Originally composed by General Butterfield in the Civil War to mark the end of the day, it had become the traditional piece to mark the death of brave men in service to their country.
On the last note of the melancholy call, Major Jenkins ended the service with the commands, “Or—der arms. Dismissed!”
Sheppard stared at the swirl of water serving as the only headstones the sailors, soldiers, and marine from three nations would ever have for eternity. They would lie next to each other on the ocean floor of the Alborán Basin, comrades in death that they could not be in life. War seemed so utterly pointless to the men that fought it. Everyone knew the lofty speeches, the inspiring words of the four freedoms, but here—now—warriors of three nations, one an ally, one an enemy, fighting that their cause would emerge victorious were disgustingly equal.
Honored were the dead. Grieving for fallen comrades in arms needed to end. With the stars and stripes ‘two-blocked’ at the truck, Argonne had to get back to the unfinished business of war—the unfinished business of death and destruction.
END NOTE
FROM NOVEMBER 1921 TO FEBRUARY 1922, nine nations—the United States, Great Britain, Japan, China, France, Italy, Belgium, Netherlands, and Portugal—met in Washington DC as part of the Washington Naval Conference. The main goal of the conference was to come to an agreement on naval disarmament in the aftermath of the Great War, making it the first disarmament conference in history. By its end, the conference had produced three international treaties, including the historic Five-Power Treaty (aka, the Washington Naval Treaty) that was signed by the US, Great Britain, Japan, Italy, and France. The Five-Power Treaty strangled naval construction, ship and armament sizes, while flooding the world’s scrap-metal markets with banned warships—all helping to avert a naval arms race among the great powers of that age for over a decade.
But what if the Washington Naval Conference hadn’t transpired as history recorded it? What if one lone incident—an assassination, common in the politics of one participating nation—occurred and changed the conference … and thus irrevocably altered all military history in the following years and ultimately World War II itself? What would history have looked like then?
What if …
Baron Tomosaburō Katō—Admiral Imperial Japanese Navy, Naval Minister, and the head of his nation’s delegation to the Washington Naval Conference—sat in his hotel room alone late on the evening of November 14, 1921. He listened to his favorite phonographic recording of traditional music while rereading staff notes on the position Japan would take for the conference’s most important second plenary session the next day. At that moment, someone knocked on the door, entered the room, and bowed. Two minutes later, Baron Katō lay on the floor in a pool of blood—dead. The murder remained unsolved despite the unfettered efforts of the DC metropolitan police and all the resources the United States government could bring to bear.
Calling it an assassination, and accusing the Americans of collusion, the remaining members of the Japanese delegation walked out of the conference fearful for their own lives since Baron Katō had been strongly in favor of a treaty limiting naval expansion, opposing his own militarists. Without Japanese agreement to stop their 8-8-8 building program enshrined in Japanese law, the United States continued the naval expansion it had begun with the 1916 and 1919 naval appropriations. Faced with growing Japanese and American fleets, Great Britain had no option but to continue its own construction programs of battle cruisers and battleships. Italy chose to restart building the Caracciolo class, sparking a renewed interest in the Lyon class by France. Finally, Germany renounced the Treaty of Versailles, collapsing the League of Nations. The former Allies acquiesced, unwilling to return to the trenches as Germany, too, began rearming.
Around the world, shipyards rang as riveters joined steel to hulls. New mines, mills, and factories sprang up to feed the growing demand for naval rearmament. Huge government arsenals continued the development of 18 inch and larger guns started in the Great War to defeat the thicker and better armor at longer and longer ranges. Industry hired more tradesmen to meet the endless government contracts. Laboratories accelerated the development of all manner of naval technology and metallurgy, perhaps at the expense of aviation—perhaps not. Flotillas of dredges slaved endlessly on shallow harbors; building ways gave way to construction dry docks and expanding shipyards as warships grew too large for traditional launching methods, further bolstering civilian construction trades. Unfettered, warships grew ever larger, remaining immune to the weapons of all but their own breed.
The Roaring Twenties roared on into the thirties as consumerism fueled continued economic expansion. Growing tax revenues satisfied the financial needs of the fleets’ expansion. Plentiful jobs and rising living standards, as well as enhanced job opportunities in the growing navies, obviated the pressure on politicians for social programs. Empires flourished, although the Soviet Union’s command economy lagged behind the other international powers. Still, Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, and Hirohito all dreamed of and plotted greater empires, replacing the old order, until the world erupted once more in global conflict.
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