"I admit the thought crossed my mind."
"As to transportation problems, Lieutenant, the military in the Northwest states are going crazy, which is completely screwing up everything that moves on wheels. The Japs have started sending over firebombs attached to balloons that drift along over the prevailing air currents by the hundreds, maybe the thousands, and into the U.S. They've only caused a little damage: a couple of small forest fires, and a handful of people were killed while trying to examine them. But rumor has it that one of the bombs apparently started a fire at some supersecret installation near Hanford, Washington, and cut the place's electricity. It may have been chance, but it's the sort of thing that drives the brass crazy and disrupts train schedules."
Ruger's voice dropped its tone of banter and turned stern. "Be that as it may, you were still supposed to be here on time. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, sir."
"You planning to make the army a career, Lieutenant Morrell?"
"Hell, no. I mean, no, sir."
Ruger took a piece of paper off his makeshift desk and wadded it up. "Then there's no point in disciplining you, is there? I could maybe have you court-martialed and stripped of rank, but that would be a waste of the time and money the government's got invested in you, and a written reprimand that would ruin your career wouldn't mean squat if you don't have a career to ruin in the first place." He threw the paper away. It landed on the ground, a few feet from an overflowing wastebasket. "You got a family in Detroit? A girl?"
"Yes to both, Captain."
Ruger leaned forward and glared. "I'll bet you deviated from a true straight-line course and spent some time with them, didn't you?"
Why lie? Paul thought. "Yes, Captain, I did. I was off course for about seven hours."
Ruger shook his head in disbelief. "That all? Jesus Christ, Lieutenant, I would have spent a lot more than that with them. After all, you're not likely to see them for a helluva long time."
Paul blinked and Ruger started laughing. "Like I said, Lieutenant Morrell, how can I punish you? Can't fire you, now can I?"
Paul worked up a reciprocal smile. "It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you did."
"Morrell, I'm a reservist myself, so I can't wait for this pile of shit war to end so I can get home to my loving wife and two kids and start working on kids three and four. In the meantime, I've got an infantry company to staff, along with filling a couple of other openings in the battalion for Major Redwald and General Monck. The enlisted men and the rest of the officers left via troopship shortly after the riots, and we are trying to fill the last officer vacancies. It's an unusual procedure, but this whole damned war is highly unusual. You, Mr. Morrell, look like you can do the job. Let's see, you're twenty-three. How the hell did you stay out of the draft for so long?"
"Captain, I was in ROTC in college, had a mild knee injury from high school football, and my dad knew someone on the draft board. Of the three, I think the last was the most significant."
"Not exactly dying to get in, were you?"
"I don't think anybody is. I guess that's why we have the draft in the first place since any rush to enlist ended shortly after Pearl Harbor. But now that I'm here, I'll serve and do my best."
Ruger grunted acknowledgment. "I see you've been in combat."
"Very little. Twice my unit in Germany was under indirect artillery fire, and once we might have been shot at by a sniper. In all cases, I just kept my head down and tried to keep my people from being killed."
"But you actually did something. You didn't lie there frozen in your own crap, now did you?"
"I guess I did manage to move about and function usefully."
"So why'd they get rid of you in Germany? How badly did you flick up?"
Paul explained the situation with the grenades and the discipline. "Funny," Paul concluded, "but all I was trying to do was the right thing."
Ruger nodded. "The road to hell is paved with people trying to do the right thing or something like that. I presume you've learned a little discretion."
Paul grinned. "A lot."
"Fine. Let's get back to you in those combat situations. Were you scared?"
"Shitless."
Captain Ruger nodded. "My first time was in the Philippines last year. I was so scared I maybe did shit, although the place already stank so bad I don't think anybody could tell, and I suppose I'll be scared again when we invade Japan."
Paul's heart sank. "Then it's official?"
"Yep, and you're gonna be part of it. Since you look reasonably human and have almost satisfactorily explained yourself, I'm taking you for my company. We are part of a now-forming infantry regiment, the 528th, Brigadier General John Monck commanding. We are going to be assigned as a reserve force for one of the divisions that's going to invade. We'll be shipping out from here faster than you can say jack shit, so don't even think about unpacking or even leaving this tent without me as a chaperone."
Paul sagged. That soon? Not even a few days' respite? "Do I have time for a phone call? How 'bout a shave and a shower?"
Ruger looked at his watch. "If we move fast, we can both make a phone call. Unless somebody changes their minds, we'll be on a C-54 in about two and a half hours. You can forget the shower. The plumbing around here is terrible at best."
Ruger stood up and Paul realized the captain was not as tall as he'd first thought, only an inch or so taller than he was. Ruger held out his hand and Paul took it. Ruger's grip was firm. "Morrell, welcome to whatever the hell we're getting into. Now, let's go find us some phones, some food, and maybe even something to drink. You mind eating and drinking in an ugly old tent?"
Despite his apprehensions, Paul smiled. "Not in the slightest, Captain. Uh, do you have any idea where we're going from here?"
"Paul, after a few stops for food and fuel, we will be catching up with our enlisted personnel on that resort spot of the Pacific, Okinawa, and God help us."
Paul's first steps in the Pacific theater would come soon.
CHAPTER 7
The third atomic bomb followed its precursors at Hiroshima and Nagasaki and fell on Kokura, with the same devastation. Gen. Korechika Anami, minister of war, stared at the small group of grim-faced men who sat with him in that same bunker where Emperor Hirohito had been taken prisoner. The austere walls were now covered with maps and reports that charted the flow of the war that was raging over their heads as American bombers pounded targets in Tokyo and its suburbs. The new leader of Japan wondered what was left for them to destroy in Tokyo.
Beginning with the March fire raids, the city had systematically been destroyed. More than a hundred thousand of her people had burned to death as the fragile wooden dwellings that housed her population of 3 million had gone up like matches.
It was the same in the other cities of Japan. Fire and death.
As news from the bombed city of Kokura filtered in through the shattered lines of communication, and as the death toll from Hiroshima and Nagasaki continued to mount, the sixty-three-year-old General Anami wondered if he had done the right thing by supporting the rebellious young officers whose palace coup had caused the killing to continue. He dismissed the brief spark of doubt. What had been done was right and Japan's fate. Japan would fight on and so would he. He had to. He was samurai and bound by the oath of Bushido to never surrender. But what would Japan fight with? They had to stop the rain of nuclear terror from the skies.
Grudgingly, he acknowledged that the traditional definition of war had been changed. Japanese bravery would count for naught unless he could find some way of halting the bombings. Not for the first time he wondered if he had been born too late. Better that he was already dead and his ashes scattered than to see what was happening to his beloved Japan.
Because of his role in the coup that had captured Hirohito and prevented the planned surrender, General Anami had taken the duties of prime minister as well as war minister. The previous prime minister, Suzuki, had not resigned. He had died of a sudden and mass
ive stroke while being taken into custody, and it offended Anami that the American and British press insisted that the seventy-seven-year-old Suzuki had been murdered. The doddering old man who had survived other coup attempts and outlived assassins' bullets had simply died.
Foreign Minister Shigenori Togo had been imprisoned, although in the comfort of his own home. The fool had insisted on trying to negotiate a peace settlement with the Allies on terms that were unfavorable to the Empire. Later they would decide whether he had committed treason. Probably not, as he was not a soldier and had been following the wishes of his misguided emperor, Hirohito. Togo's replacement, ex-prime minister Hideki Tojo, had been chosen by the military, and the news had sent shock waves through the Allies. Tojo had been one of the architects of the Pearl Harbor attack, but had borne the brunt of blame for the later failures of the military and been forced to resign.
Anami hoped that Tojo's appointment and apparent return to power would send a clear message that the Japanese Empire was deadly serious in its intent to continue the war. Tojo, however, was a figurehead appointment. The real power to lead and control Japan lay with the handful of men in the room.
Of the other important pacifists, only Marquis Kido, a friend and relative of the emperor's, remained at large. General Umezu, who had openly agreed with the decision to surrender, was also under house arrest. In Anami's opinion, Umezu was definitely a traitor and would be dealt with accordingly.
Anami began the meeting. "The emperor sends his greetings and wishes us well."
Admiral Toyoda's mouth flickered slightly in what might have been a smile. "Then he has not decided to choose an honorable death?" Toyoda was delighted that the war was continuing and, like the others in the room, knew that Hirohito was a prisoner. "And where is our beloved emperor?"
Anami nodded slightly at Toyoda. "Colonel Sakei said that Hirohito intends no such thing as an immediate honorable death. He believes that he can best serve the Empire by living."
The implications were clear. Hirohito would remain alive to forestall his replacement by someone more extreme. Should he die, then the crown would pass to his son, Akihito. But the crown prince was far too young to reign, and a regent would be appointed, presuming, of course, that the crown prince could be found. A second choice would doubtless be Hirohito's younger brother, Prince Takamatsu. Takamatsu stood solidly behind the militarists in their continuing fight.
"As to the emperor's physical presence," Anami continued, "Colonel Sakei has moved him to a place of greater safety. He is in a secure location near the city of Nagasaki. That was chosen because the Americans would not again bomb the ruined place. It also places him away from Tokyo and the possibility of a countercoup." Anami quickly looked upward and the others followed. They could hear the distant thudding of bombs. "It is ironic, but dead Nagasaki is now far safer than Tokyo."
The group nodded agreement. Anami was still taken aback by the way they looked to him for guidance and leadership.
Anami again directed his glance at Admiral Toyoda. "Are there any improvements regarding the navy?"
Toyoda flushed. There was no navy. With the exception of sixteen destroyers and a number of regular submarines, the conventional navy no longer existed. Fewer than 10 percent of navy ships were still afloat, and all other ships of consequence had been sunk or so severely damaged that they could not move.
"We have no carriers, no battleships, no cruisers, and almost no frontline planes. Unless they have been found and destroyed by the Americans, only about a hundred fighters remain, and they are dispersed all over Japan."
Once, the Japanese navy and the swift Zero fighter had ruled both the waves and the skies. Now it was all ashes, and the surviving planes were hidden rather than rising to fight. Even the guns from the remaining ships had been removed and placed in tunnels and bunkers where they would have a better opportunity to repel the Americans.
Just before Pearl Harbor, the late and revered Admiral Yamamoto had said that the Japanese navy would run amok for six months or a year, but that the weight of American arms would be too much. Events had occurred precisely as Yamamoto had forecast.
Anami wondered what role Yamamoto would have taken in these proceedings had he not been killed by American fighter planes.
"General Sugiyama?" Anami asked.
Field Marshal Hajime Sugiyama had been appointed to coordinate the land defenses of the home islands. Anami considered him pompous, but he was a loyal supporter of continuing the war.
"The army is ready," Sugiyama said proudly. "We are two million strong and undefeated, although I have to admit that many of our troops are inexperienced, and not up to our previous standards. Additional formations are crossing over from Manchukuo and Chosen and will assist in the defense of the home islands. Further, we are beginning to enroll millions of Japanese civilians into either militia units or civilian shock troops."
With the exception of the battle for the Philippines, only fairly small units of the Imperial Japanese Army had encountered the Americans. In China, the Japanese army had been victorious and all-conquering up until the Russians had advanced into Manchukuo and threatened the Kwantung army's rear. Now that army was withdrawing its best troops back to the home islands while leaving second-rate soldiers to fight off the Soviets in the lands known by the Americans as Manchuria and Korea.
"General, when will the Russians be halted?" Anami queried.
Sugiyama's confidence was unshaken as he stated unpleasant truths. "The remainder of our armies in China and Manchukuo will be split by the Russian advance. Those in China have been directed to build strong fortifications and defend themselves bravely until relieved, while those in Chosen are withdrawing south and will form defensive lines where the peninsula narrows. By that time, the Russians should be out of fuel and, with their supply lines extended, will be vulnerable to our counterattacks."
Anami prodded, "The Soviets have crossed and landed on what they refer to as Sakhalin Island. Have we overlooked their amphibious potential?"
"No," the field marshal answered tersely. "What was overlooked was the defense of those islands. Our predecessors thought that the treaty with the Soviet Union would render moot any need to protect those lands from those we thought were our allies. Thus, the Russian landings were virtually unopposed. I guarantee you that will not be the case if they wish to proceed farther or attempt to land on Honshu."
Sugiyama's report did not mention the hundreds of thousands of Japanese soldiers either still fighting battles in the islands of the Pacific, or who were withering and starving after being bypassed by the American navy, which could sail anyplace it wished. He was told almost four hundred thousand of Japan's best soldiers were isolated from the home islands by distance and the American navy. They might as well be dead.
"Army fighter planes?" Anami asked. "What numbers are there?"
Sugiyama shrugged. "A few hundred, and they too are dispersed and well hidden until the time is right. But that is not important. We will win this war with courage and adherence to the code of Bushido, not with machines. Victory will go to the brave, and there is no one more courageous than the Japanese soldier!"
Anami said nothing, but again wondered just what good courage was against an enemy who was tens of thousands of feet in the sky and capable of dropping bombs of all kinds on the heads of those brave Japanese soldiers. What good was bravery if the brave warrior could not even reach the craven enemy?
Thousands of American planes flew daily over Japanese lands, and the Japanese military was helpless to stop them. Those few fighters that did fly up to attack them were inevitably shot down. As a result, the draconian order had gone forth that the cities would not be defended from the American bombers. The few remaining planes, along with the precious few warships, would be husbanded until the time of the American invasion. As this occurred, the Japanese military and civilian population would dig into the hillsides and await their opportunity for revenge.
Anami clenched his fists. "Victor
y is a qualified statement. What we want is to end this round of fighting on terms that will not destroy or humiliate Japan or cause us to violate our oath to the code of Bushido, and which will enable us to prepare for the next round. The question then is, how do we accomplish this most reasonable goal? We understand quite well that the Americans have a different definition of the worth of a soldier's life. In Japan, a soldier's goal is to die for his emperor, while the American wishes nothing more than to survive and go home. Thus, while our soldiers fight to the death, the cowardly Americans surrender at the earliest opportunity."
Sugiyama sniffed. "They are women."
"Be that as it may, the fact of their unmanly behavior has given us a weapon. General Sugiyama, you spoke of arming millions of civilians, but with what? We have very few guns to give them."
"Spears and knives," Sugiyama said proudly. "They will rush the Americans. Then they will stab them and disembowel them."
Anami appreciated the thought, but questioned its effectiveness. However, while uncountable tens of thousands would be killed and stacked in bloody piles before the American guns, many Americans would indeed die as well.
"Good," Anami said, "but the key to our success is the kamikaze." They recalled the sacred story of the kamikaze, the divine wind, that had sprung up those hundreds of years ago to destroy the ships of the Mongol horde and kept Japan safe from invasion.
"The purpose of the kamikaze," he continued, "is not to die uselessly for Japan, but to kill for her, and we must not forget that. If death comes as that which is inevitable and right, then such a death is an honor to one's self and family. But it is far, far better to kill first than to just die, and that is what we must ensure. General, how many kamikaze planes and pilots are ready for the final battle?"
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