Turning Point (Kirov Series Book 22)

by John Schettler

  “Thank you for that report, Chief,” said the Captain. “So it comes down to wondering where our next meal is coming from.”

  “And wondering whether we’ll get any kind of a reception at Darwin if we do head back there,” said Fukada. “If I recall the history, the IJN just bombed the place not too long ago. Oh, I suppose we could ease into port, but we’d have to strike our colors, and even then what in the world will they make of a ship run by an all Japanese crew? How do we politely explain that we’re on their side now… and if we do, how in the world do we ever explain it to anyone back home? From that moment on, we’ll be at war with our grandfathers, our own people. Now then…. Imagine if we end up killing one of them? Imagine if we put a missile on the Chief’s old Ojiichan? What happens to him?”

  Silence….

  The XO’s comment all underscored yet another point. The flag on their ship was the Japanese naval ensign. The nation they were pledged to defend was their homeland, the land of their grandfathers, who would soon all give birth to their parents. It was their blood, in a very real respect, that was now running in their veins. Who were they going to fight for here? They were no closer to a real answer to that on the intellectual level, but emotionally, there was movement in that room, and you could see it on many of the faces of the men around that table. The thought of taking DDG-180 out to sea to fight against Japan was going to be very uncomfortable.

  The Captain could read the atmosphere in the room easily enough, yet he also perceived the consequences of what he was now mulling over, and thought it best that he voice them.

  “I’ll be the first to say this isn’t the war we ever thought we’d be fighting. Three days ago, it was the Russians and Chinese we were worried about. From what I gather, Japan is at war with them both at this very moment, but the Grandfathers of our old American friends are not their allies here. That’s a bit awkward for us, to say the least.”

  “Yes,” said Fukada. “They whipped us pretty damn hard in 1945, occupied Japan, imposed a constitution on us, and here we are in a ship with the American Aegis combat system running the show, and US built missiles in the decks fore and aft. Now we could throw salt in the wounds and turn all those lovely missiles on our own people, but then again, we could also do just the opposite, and give them back to the Americans when they come for Hiroshima and Nagasaki… That’s where my great grandparents live, and that’s where they died too. Their only child, my grandfather, was fortunately at Fukuyama visiting relatives when the bomb fell. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here now…”

  Chapter 21

  The words of Executive Officer Fukada cut to the bone. In spite of the fact that many of the officers and crew of Takami might have believed Japan’s war was misguided folly, a disastrous gamble that brought nothing but misery to their homeland, and most of Southeast Asia, blood ties run very thick in Japan. Then Lieutenant Ryuko Otani spoke up, voicing a concern that was still at the base of all this discussion.

  “Alright,” she said. “These are our people here, our ancestors, impossible as that still seems to me. But let’s not forget what they did. This war was unnecessary. We came south to seize oil and other resources, all in the interest of the new Japanese Empire. A minute ago we were talking about delivering the General to Balikpapan. Well, when the Dutch set fire to destroy some of the oil facilities there, our grandfathers responded by killing every last Caucasian in the city—all of them. The good General there was leading the invasion of Java, where the U.N. reported after the war that three million locals died under the Japanese occupation by 1945. And let’s not forget the invasion of China, the atrocities committed there, and throughout this entire theater. They were simply wrong—no, that doesn’t even begin to say it. They were criminal, and the men who perpetrated or condoned them filled our enemies hearts with everything they delivered to Hiroshima and Nagasaki.”

  “There were atrocities on both sides,” said Fukada. “Our soldiers called the American 41st Division ‘the Butchers,’ because they never took prisoners—though they made sure they got every gold filling out of the mouths of the men they killed.”

  “Oh?” said Otani, “and shall we talk about Unit 731 and the bio-warfare experiments now? They froze prisoners to death just to assess their tolerance to cold. Then they boiled others to see how long they could survive in the heat. And then there was Manila, where our troops raped and butchered 100,000 Pilipino civilians before that city fell in 1944. It goes on and on. How can we support these men, these Generals and Admirals who allowed this to happen? How can we support a man like Tojo? Let’s face it. Some of our ancestors were real monsters.”

  “Perhaps we can’t,” said Captain Harada. “Maybe our best option here would be to try to be neutral in all of this—find a safe haven where we can ride this out and try to make sense of what’s happened to us, or find a way back to where we belong.”

  “To do that we will have to reach an accommodation with the Japanese armed forces here now,” said Fukada. “The Chief made a good point, we can’t cruise about here for very much longer. We’ll have to find some safe port, and believe me, we may not find one anywhere in Australia. So as I see it, our only option is to sit down to tea with the Japanese authorities here.”

  “That would mean we’d have to answer quite a few questions,” said Chief Oshiro. “And I’m not sure we have any of the answers yet. I mean… well we can’t just come out and tell them who we are, can we? For one thing, they’ll likely just laugh in our faces. I no naka no kawazu. How would they possibly comprehend who we are, and what we’re capable of?”

  As the Japanese often did, the chief had thrown out the opening lines of an old proverb to make his point. I no naka no kawazu, roughly speaking meant ‘a frog in a well,” and the full proverb read, ‘a frog in a well cannot conceive of the ocean.’

  “I’m not so sure,” said Fukada. “To begin with, the very existence of this ship will be somewhat of a mystery to them. There was no Takami in the IJN in 1942, and certainly no ship like this one. They’ll take one look at us and wonder who the hell we are. Certainly they could never understand our computers and technology, but one look at a missile coming off that forward deck will stand in for a thousand words. They’ve apparently seen them in action before, which is a mystery we’ll have to solve. In any case, I’m inclined to think they would end up believing us. No matter how deep their well is, how else could they account for our presence here?”

  “Well then,” said Chief Oshiro, “if they do believe us, then I can’t imagine they’ll want to simply fill up our fuel bunkers and let us go happily on our way to look for another volcano. Give them one look at what we’re capable of, and they’ll want us front row center in their fleet. At the very least, they want to get their hands on those missiles.”

  “Gold coins to a cat,” said Lieutenant Otani, throwing out a little proverb of her own.

  “I agree with that at least,” said the Captain. “We keep our missiles and technology under the decks here where they belong. Besides, there’s no way they could make use of any of it. It would be like giving gold coins to a cat. Our weapons would be nice and shiny, and certainly command their attention, but that’s as far as it would go. There’s no way they could even reverse engineer any of it. The technology is simply too advanced.”

  “Then they’ll want us to fight for them,” said Fukada. “They’ll expect it, and to express any reservation would mean we would have to tell them more about how this war ends than they might want to hear.”

  “Agreed,” said Captain Harada. “That’s another thing we have to consider. We all know information is power. Tell them they’re going to lose this war and it will only increase their ardor for battle. They’ll insist we fight to prevent that outcome.”

  “What if we tried to facilitate a negotiated peace?” said Lieutenant Otani. She had been fiddling with a pen, head down, her long black hair all tucked neatly up under her service cap. A beautiful woman by any standards, her face was troubled now.
It was clear the thought of joining WWII on the side of the men who ran the Japanese Empire was difficult for her.

  “What do you mean?” said Harada.

  “Well… if we could get to the real decision makers, a man like Yamamoto perhaps, then we might convince him of the futility of prosecuting this war, given the inevitable end we all know is likely to come. Perhaps we could convince them to sue for peace with the Americans.”

  “After Pearl Harbor?” Fukada shook his head. “Not likely. The Americans would never agree to it.”

  “We might make them see things differently,” she persisted. “We can stop them right in their tracks if they won’t listen. We have the power to do that.”

  “Perhaps,” said the Captain. “At least this year, and possibly next year, but they ramp up production and put more carriers into the Pacific than we might want to tangle with by 1944. And let’s not forget what they’ll have by 1945. I don’t have to remind anyone here that no ship in our navy has ever carried nuclear weapons. So in a matter of just a few years, they’ll have the proverbial big stick, and as Lieutenant Commander Fukada pointed out earlier, they won’t hesitate to use it.”

  “Then we can’t let things go that far,” said Otani. “We have to convince them to make peace before they become the unstoppable force they were by 1945.”

  “A little like trying to pacify a tiger after you’ve just raided its den and killed a few cubs,” said Fukada. “Frankly, I think they’d tell us to go to hell, and then they’d go right on with their war. Oh, we could try to sit on the sidelines, but remember what happens after they get bases close enough to bomb Japan. I’m not talking about Hiroshima now. Don’t forget what the fire bombs did to Tokyo. At least 100,000 died there in a single night, with a million more injured and homeless. That was a napalm attack, with the E-46 Cluster Bomb. The lead bombers just came in over the center of the city and lit up a nice little burning letter X. Then the rest of them, another couple hundred or so, just used that for a target. The resulting firestorm nearly burned the entire city to the ground. Yes, the men running this empire were ruthless and cruel, but so were our enemies, so was General Curtis LeMay. That was the most deadly bombing raid in history. What are we going to do, just sit on some island out here and let it happen again?”

  “We’re a long way from that,” said Lieutenant Otani. “We can try and divert the course of these events before it ever gets to that point.”

  “How?” Fukada was adamant. “By threatening the Americans if they won’t agree to terms? Well they won’t. I can tell you that much right now. So any threat we make will have to be backed up with this ship.”

  “But sir, respectfully, aren’t you saying that to try and prevent this war, we have to go to war? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It will to our enemies…”

  No one in the room failed to pick up the obvious fact that Fukada had made up his mind in this matter. Captain Harada was giving everyone a wide latitude to express any opinion or feeling on the matter, no holds barred. It would have to be that way if they were ever to reach a consensus on what to do, for it had to be a consensus. There was no other way. He couldn’t order these men and women to do anything they could not fully support or embrace with their own conscience. In a way, they had to finally decide why they put on those uniforms now. Japan’s military had been considered a civilian body for decades. They were meant to be a defensive force, and specifically prohibited from developing or bearing overtly offensive weapons.

  And yet, quietly, almost surreptitiously, the navy had been putting new ships into their order of battle. It was very much like the little shell game the Japanese played with the Washington Naval Treaty, designing cruisers with 6-inch guns, only with barbettes enlarged so they could be quickly converted to full 8-inch gun heavy cruisers. There were two of them out there right now, just over the horizon. They built seaplane tenders and commercial ships with specific requirements that would facilitate the easy conversion to an aircraft carrier. And in modern times, the new “Helicopter Carriers,” all ostensibly for defensive ASW patrols, could now easily receive the new F-35 strike fighter and become offensive carrier platforms. Takami had also just received a more powerful SSM, for defense against enemy ships at sea, or so went the logic. Yet it was a defense that could only be used by attacking the enemy. In accordance with another old proverb, any good officer in a modern day fight knew that the best defense was a good offense.

  “Alright,” said the Captain. “We have a very limited range of choices here. We can pick one side or the other, but if we do, we won’t be able to go in half way. It will be all or nothing. Then again, we could try what Lieutenant Otani suggests and try to facilitate a negotiated peace here. That may seem fruitless, but consider the lives we would be saving if it worked. The only other choice is to stay out of it, but Chief Oshiro makes a pretty good point as to the difficulties in that. We’ll need food and fuel, and a safe harbor where we can ride it out.”

  “You may get the food and fuel,” said Fukada, “But let’s face it—this war is going to find us one way or another, no matter where we go, unless you’re thinking of Antarctica, or perhaps sailing to South America. We couldn’t stay anywhere in the Pacific, and all the while, we’ll be listening to news of what’s happening over here. And one more thing—do this and we can never go home. I’m going to assume we never find a way out of this mess—that we’re stuck here. So we can stand by and do nothing, but try showing your face again back home in three years—assuming there’s a home left standing in Japan. That message Ensign Shiota was talking about gives me something else to think about. Who else would have rocket technology this early in the war? It has to be the Russians, and if there is fighting up north, then something is amiss here. That never happened until 1945.”

  “All the more reason to make some kind of high level contact here and try to find out what is really happening,” said the bullish CIC Chief Hideo Honjo. He was already wanting as much data on their situation as possible.

  “That could be dangerous,” said Oshiro.

  “Everything we do here from this day forward could be dangerous,” said Fukada. “But the Lieutenant has a good point. If we can meet with a man like Yamamoto and reach some accommodation, then we’ll be in a much better position. Strong as we might seem, a single arrow is easily broken, but not ten in a bundle. That’s where the Chief’s wisdom shines. We can’t go it alone here, so why not take his advice, and Lieutenant Otani’s, and see if we can arrange a conference with the Admiral of the IJN. Yamamoto, of all the personalities at large here, is a man we might deal with.”

  “Aye,” said the Chief. “Wade in slowly. No need to jump to any quick decision here now. These people are going to learn about us one way or another. With a man like Yamamoto in our camp, we have many more options than we would if we tried to go it alone.”

  The Captain looked at Lieutenant Otani now, giving her a chance to speak again. “Better talk than anything else. I’d support that course of action, but we’d have to be cautious. Wading in slowly sounds like a reasonable proposition, but first the man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes the man.” She looked at Fukada with that, but said nothing more.

  “The Lieutenant has a point. In the beginning, walk slowly. I’m not sure we can avoid stepping on toes here. A warship like this can be a very indelicate thing. That said, we can be cautious, as Lieutenant Otani suggests. Alright, I’ll support that course of action. Any other opinions?”

  No one else spoke.

  “Then, Ensign Shiota, I have a job for you. Use those ears of yours, and that nifty IJN naval code breaker, to find out where a man might find Admiral Yamamoto. In doing that, you might want to nail down exactly what day it is.”

  “Oh, I already know that sir. It’s been on all the intercepts I get each day. This is March 1, 1942, and I think Admiral Yamamoto is at Rabaul inspecting the new base there.”

  “How do you know that? If you got t
his from the ship’s library files this may not be anything like the March of ’42 written up in the books. That damn volcano is evidence enough of that.”

  “No sir, I’m not much for history books. I just picked up a signal yesterday indicating he would be at Rabaul for the next week. They just finished up some kind of big operation there.”

  “I see… Good work, Ensign. Now do something else for me. Use those ears and try and put together a good SITREP. I want to know what is happening in this war. If something as big as that eruption has happened, who knows what else has changed here. Find out, and report to me as soon as you can. In the meantime, I think we should revisit the question how we deliver the General to Balikpapan, or whether we even do so.”

  “He’s likely to insist,” said Fukada. “At least that’s what I’ve been hearing from Doctor Hisakawa.”

  “He can insist all he wants,” said the Captain. “I’m navy. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I begin to feel we should keep the good general right where he is. We could tell him we’re a top secret outfit, and that Yamamoto has personally ordered that we find and rescue him, and then bring him to meet with the Admiral. I think he’d go for that one. Mister Ikida, what is it you’re pecking away at with that tablet?” He had noticed his Navigator, Michi Ikida, had been absorbed for some time.

  “Sir? After the Chief Engineer’s discussion on the fuel situation, I was just doing some preliminary course plots to various locations. I think I can get us to Rabaul from here in six days at an average speed of 20 knots, which is the upper limit for cruising speeds. If we cruise at 15 knots, we’re looking at eight days, but we would have more in the fuel bunkers when we get there.”

  “Either way this fuel issue is going to loom bigger and bigger as we proceed here.” Harada was concerned, but his XO made a quick suggestion.