The Perils and the Prize

by Jim Crossley

  Brought up in such miserable circumstances, Ikari nevertheless retained limitless love and respect for his grandfather and delighted to spend hours in the old man’s company, learning about his exploits in the navy and imbibing much of his deep love for his country, his family and the truth.

  No favours were granted to the young man at school, some of the teachers going out of their way to give him the hardest time possible; nevertheless, he passed into a prestigious private university, his fees being paid out of his grandfather’s pension payments which the Imperial Navy had unaccountably forgotten to suspend after his disgrace. Whilst still at university, Ikari volunteered to become a “gakuto” or soldier-student. Gakuto students transferred directly into the forces when their studies were completed. They were often considered as somewhat “wet” by students from regular military academies and generally received a particularly hard time in their basic military training. Japanese forces were incredibly tough and cadets had to endure beatings, insults and humiliation from their officers and NCOs. Ikari got his share of all this but his boyhood tribulations had made him resilient and he had developed within himself a powerful resolve. He, Ikari Samasido, would restore the honour of his family. Once again they would be proud and the injustice of his grandfather’s treatment would be righted. He was allowed a day’s home leave at the end of his basic training and a family dinner was arranged for the occasion. Food was scarce in Japan in 1944, but his mother made a supreme effort and seven family members sat around the low table to enjoy a traditional Japanese meal. As was the custom, Grandfather Samasido got to his feet and made a short speech in which he praised the armed forces for their heroic struggle and celebrated the fact that Ikari would have the honour of joining the gallant Imperial Navy, serving the Emperor as he himself had. Ikari himself then stood up. He saluted his grandfather and his father dutifully then astonished his listeners with this devastating statement.

  “For many years we have been aware of a cloud hanging over our family, a cloud undeserved but real nonetheless. As the first of my generation I can no longer endure the injustice which has brought shame on our name. For this reason I have volunteered for the Special Attack Force which our commanders are convinced will finally bring defeat on our enemies. I salute you all. I salute especially our ancestors. We are all one in our reverence and love of our country and our Emperor.”

  He sat down to the sound of weeping from his mother and his sisters and cries of admiration and astonishment from the men. The Special Attack Force! Young men resolved to destroy the enemy by crashing aircraft laden with explosives into enemy ships. The Kamikaze! The Divine Wind! No one knew what to say. This young man’s actions would certainly restore the honour of the family. He was a saint, a martyr, but he was also their Ikari, their beloved boy and he was to give away his life deliberately for country and for family. Only the old admiral seemed to know what to do. He rose from the table, embraced the young man briefly, and walked slowly to his room. Closing the door, he went to the chest where he kept his old uniforms and drew out his razor-sharp sword. Unhurriedly, he penned a few lines of poetry:

  Why must the young die for the sake of the ancient.

  Why must an old man’s pride bring innocent slaughter.

  Leaving this brief farewell on the chest, he strode through the house into the little courtyard and did the terrible deed slowly, deliberately and with infinite dignity.

  Ikari proved to be a truly natural pilot. Young men volunteering for the Kamikaze were revered, almost worshipped, as soon as they joined their training unit. The Emperor was a god and these were his angels, ready to hurl themselves to a most horrible death in the service of their country and for the honour of their families. Normally they were given only the most rudimentary flying training, enough only to take off, land and follow a leader to their assigned victim, the leader being an experienced navy flyer. Ikari was different. He was ready for his first solo flight after only four hours in training. His instructors noticed that every landing was perfect, every manoeuvre precise and crisply performed. Also, it emerged that his eyesight was truly exceptional. He could spot and identify birds flying in the mountains miles away from the base. He could read the identification number of each aircraft long before it commenced its final approach to the airfield. Often he could even see who was flying it, helmeted and goggled as they were, by their attitude in the cockpit and by their handling of the machine. One morning the commander of the unit took him aside. Normally juniors were expected to treat such senior officers with exaggerated respect, speaking only when spoken to and then only to agree with what had been said to them or to answer a direct question. This time the young pilot sensed that it would be different. The older man somehow looked concerned, even kindly.

  “I have had reports of your progress and I myself have observed your flying,” he began. “It is not to many that talents like yours are given. Tell me about your reasons for volunteering to join the Special Attack Force.”

  “Commander San, I joined this force because I love my country and its heroic struggle with injustice and also I vowed to bring honour onto my family. I wish to make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of the Emperor.”

  “Yes, yes, every young man who comes here gives such an answer. You, Ikari, are an exceptional young man. Have you thought that the Emperor might be better served if you applied your special talents in some other way? As a fighter pilot perhaps, defending our poor islands from the evil bombers who set fire to our cities and slaughter our women and children. Few people have abilities like yours; thousands have the courage and dedication to be Kamikaze pilots. You should think about how you could render the Emperor the greatest service. Go to your quarters now and think about what I have said. Report to me tomorrow morning.”

  Ikari could not sleep. He knew the commander was right; he had special skills as a flyer, and Japan had lost so many of its expert pilots that few were left with the skills to take on the monstrous American B 29s that were mercilessly pounding the home islands. He was almost sure to die in battle anyway; why not do so in a way which would best use his special talents in the service of the Emperor? He had given his word to his family and his old grandfather, but the commander had shown him another way. He must have the courage to follow his commander’s advice. He strode to the headquarters’ building the next morning, resolved.

  It was a beautiful spring morning, the sky blue and crystal clear. He noticed that the cherry trees in front of the building had burst into flower. Cherry blossom, the very symbol of Japan! Some deep unconscious memory stirred in his mind and he heard the voice of his grandfather quite clearly as if he was beside him. “Stand by your oath, Ikari! You must be noble as your ancestors have been noble. You have given your word.”

  He gave his decision to the commander. There could be no turning back.

  Kamakize pilots were being rushed through their flying training, mostly getting only about forty hours at the controls before being declared fit for service. Even this took several months due to the chaotic situation in the home islands and the shortage of aviation fuel, so it was not until May 1945 that Ikari and his comrades were able to take off for Kagoshima on the southern tip of Japan, which was to be their base. After that the wait was not a long one. Loaded with five hundred-pound bombs, six Zeke single-engine fighters, led by a single red-painted guide aircraft, set off on their suicide mission towards Okinawa. Above them six protective fighters would attempt to ward off defending US aircraft and return to report on the success of the raid. Each suicide aircraft was immaculately clean and polished to a mirror finish, the ground crews believing that as it was to be the pilot’s coffin, it should be perfect, following ancient Japanese tradition. In his cockpit, Ikari had a strange feeling of elation. He was wearing a shimmering green silk scarf meticulously embroidered by his oldest sister and among the maps and paraphernalia behind his seat was a photograph of his grandfather, immaculate in his naval uniform. He tried to remember his training. Look out for a wort
hy target, a battleship or, better still, a carrier. If it is a carrier, dive vertically down, aiming for the aircraft lift on deck. Never fly straight, veer from side to side so that the enemy won’t know which ship you are aiming for. Strike at maximum speed!

  At first the machines flew peacefully over a deep-blue Pacific, keeping station carefully on their red leader. The lead pilot was in fact the only fully trained flyer among the suicide squad. A natural pilot like Ikari could fly easily in formation; the others had to concentrate hard to keep straight and level and could not let their minds wander onto higher things or dream about home, family and honour. Ikari even endeavoured to compose a poem as he flew:

  How high the green young seedlings grow

  While shines the sun and waters flow.

  But they must fall to blade or hoe

  When ancestors will bid them go.

  The peaceful progress to suicide could not continue. Out of the clear blue Pacific sky, a line of tiny dots quickly materialised into a flight of large, fast fighters coming out of the sun at over four hundred miles per hour. In a few seconds the Corsairs had blasted four of the attackers out of the sky and were coming round for a second shot at the remainder. The protecting fighters were nowhere to be seen. Ikari saw the American machines clearly as they forged past him, great powerful monsters, heavily armed and skilfully flown. Instinctively he broke formation and hauled his little Zeke over into a half loop, rolled off the top so that the enemy were below and ahead of him. For a moment he thought that he could outfight these fearsome opponents using the amazing agility and acceleration of the Zeke, but his training kicked in. He was after a bigger prize than a single enemy fighter. Alone now, he dived into a cloud bank and flew on towards the point where he knew the enemy ships must be concentrating.

  There they were! Straight ahead was what seemed like a swarm of little dots on the sea surface – the American fleet! He knew that there would be anti-aircraft destroyers guarding the outer perimeter of the fleet, with the carriers and battleships in the centre. Swerving and dodging from side to side, he soon passed over the outer screen and set his eyes on a fat carrier dead ahead. Suddenly huge volumes of smoke emerged from the ships below, making a hideous blackish cloud, hiding them from attackers. Ikari had learnt that the only way to avoid a smokescreen was to dive close to the surface of the sea, identify a victim while below the smoke, then pull up sharply, before diving onto its deck. He skimmed the surface of the sea. Several times he saw tracer probing towards him and once he felt his machine stagger as shells exploded close to its frail wings. Undeterred, he charged on to where he believed his quarry to be. Suddenly a white shape appeared right in front of him. He heaved back on the joystick but he was a fraction of a second too late. City of Derry, a British hospital ship, had been detached from the Royal Navy’s force in the Pacific and sent to assist American medical teams with the horrific number of severely burnt servicemen who were victims of Kamikaze attacks. She had been transferring casualties from the carrier South Fork when the attack took place. The Zeke crashed bodily through her unarmoured sides and its deadly cargo exploded in the bowels of the old ship, wrenching her apart. Fuel from the aircraft ignited filling the interior with blazing petrol, consuming everything in its path. A few survivors, mostly from the upper decks were hurled into the sea but almost all the medical staff below, together with all the patients were blown to pieces.

  As Senior Nursing Officer, Angela Pointer, had been supervising the transfer of casualties, standing on the foredeck. She was hurled into the water, splashing down on the side furthest from the carrier. After a brief blackout she found herself swimming amid a chaotic shambles of people, body parts and bits of ship’s gear. Amazingly, only a few yards away floated a raft, blown from the deck of the hospital ship. She found that she could swim adequately and managed to reach the raft and scramble on board. Exhausted and trembling with shock, she looked around her. South Fork was already forging away from the scene. There were strict orders that capital ships must keep on the move when the fleet was under attack, whatever the circumstances, leaving destroyers and auxiliaries to collect survivors. All around the raft, among the flotsam, she could see heads belonging perhaps to survivors and perhaps to corpses, supported by their life jackets. She started to shout and wave her arms and saw some heads turning towards her. There was no way of propelling the raft, but there was about fifty yards of stout rope, which had been used to secure it on deck, trailing in the water. There was nothing for it but to scramble back into the sea with the rope’s end and swim to the nearest survivor. He turned out to be a young British hospital orderly. He was jabbering and trembling with fright, but finding him seemed to give Angela more strength and together they hauled in the line so that the raft was again alongside them. Getting onto the raft seemed to give Billy, the survivor, more courage. He would not re-enter the water but did locate six more survivors, three of them wounded, and helped Angela haul them onto the raft, which was now full and dangerously low in the water. There was no sign of a rescue ship, but Billy said he heard an engine, and after about half an hour a seaplane appeared and landed on the water beside them. Two crewmen got out a dinghy and paddled round the scene of the wreck, looking for survivors, then doing the grisly work of cutting the dog tags off floating corpses while two others helped the contingent on the raft into the big plane. Angela never forgot the hot, petrol-scented smell of that seaplane, the loud, confident American voices or the taste of the warm coffee brewed aboard. She was in fact quite unhurt and the rush of adrenaline which had sustained her on the raft seemed to continue as she examined her fellow survivors aboard the plane. Apart from Billy, everyone had suffered some damage. None of the aircrew had medical training, but the plane did carry an extensive first-aid kit and the two of them worked together to try to settle the casualties as the plane prepared for take-off. One poor fellow had lost so much blood that he died before the machine was airborne. The rest were settled down with morphine for the four-hour flight to Wake Island.

  Chapter 18

  The war was over, but in Britain austerity was still the watchword. Food, clothing and petrol were still rationed and the country, victorious though it was, had a grey, exhausted look about it. A Labour government was busily pushing forward a socialist programme for the country, while at the same time maintaining massively powerful armed forces, policing its defeated enemies and keeping a wary eye on the colossal Soviet armies which were poised to establish the Communist empire in eastern Europe over the coming three years. In defeated Germany appalling hardships were in store for the remaining population. Many fled westwards to avoid the cruel grip of Russian occupiers, only to starve to death on their travels. Railway, postal systems, telecommunications, gas, the electrical grid and food production and distribution were all in ruins. As the horrors of the extermination camps were revealed by occupying forces, any pity for German civilians caught up in the disaster befalling their country quickly evaporated.

  Angela, fresh from being feted as a heroine in America for her bravery during the rescue, arrived in London in a US Air Force transport just before the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, in time to be at home in Hampshire for VE day. To her delight, William had wangled some leave from his unit so the two could spend a few precious days together as the nation celebrated total victory. They worked together each morning in the Pointer vegetable garden, now famous for its delicious new potatoes and crunchy lettuces, cleaned out the chickens and mowed the lawns with the ancient family Atco. It should have been a delightful interlude together, but a monstrous elephant lurked in the room. An elephant named Hans. He was barely mentioned, even in their most intimate conversations, but William’s jealousy smouldered, unquenched. He did not dare to question his love directly about their relationship, and she herself avoided any but the briefest mention of her encounters with him either before or during the war. Her parents followed suit, avoiding any reference to his brief stay in their house.

  As William was prepa
ring to leave, the news came that Angela was to be presented with the George Medal in recognition of her bravery after the sinking of the City of Derry. This kept everyone in a state of great excitement and sent the two Pointer ladies into agonies of indecision and torment over where they would find any clothes suitable for a visit to the Palace. William was doing everything he could to get his demobilisation from the RAF as soon as possible, but as Sir Felix warned him, the forces were reluctant to let go of useful officers when there were mammoth administrative tasks to perform, not least the repatriation of thousands of enemy prisoners. Now that his photo interpretation skills were no longer required, he had found himself drafted into a role in a camp which received POWs who had been held in Canada and arranged for their return to the wreckage of their own country. His fluent German had made him an obvious choice for such a job. Although he made a show of protesting, he was actually quite pleased because he thought he might be able to come across his German cousin in the course of his duties. That might enable him to settle matters.