Twilight of Gutenberg

by Hitoshi Goto

“You’re not saying he’s going to Japan, are you?”

  “I didn’t go so far as to say that. He might be hidden somewhere in the Alpine Fortress, or he might remain in Germany under a new identity. Or he might go to Latin America where there are many German emigrants. But we have to make sure our search net covers all the possibilities, and we cannot discount anywhere. The probability of him going to Japan is not zero percent.”

  “How would he get to Japan?”

  Cox looked over at Rushbrook.

  “I don’t suppose the normal routes would be possible, so the only way we can think of is by submarine,” the admiral said.

  “Submarine?” I recalled my conversation with Rear Admiral Yokoi in Berlin last year.

  “There’s a U-boat base in Penang, but it’s impossible to get there in one stretch in a traditional sub. Naval Intelligence informs us the German navy is working hard to commission a new type of submarine, but they probably won’t manage it in time. Supposing Germany collapses without having brought in the new type, either they’ll have to pass the baton to another submarine in the Atlantic, or they’ll have to refuel somewhere. In which case they will have to coordinate with the Japanese naval attaché in Berlin. There is also the matter of who will deal with him after arriving in Japan. Given that your brother-in-law, Commander Oishi, is proficient in German, there’s a good chance it could be him, isn’t there?”

  Finally it was sinking in. There was a possibility that Bormann would choose to evacuate Hitler’s son to Japan, and they had to act now to stop that from happening. They had to come up with a plan that was as fool proof as possible, and the easiest way to achieve that would be to send someone capable of approaching the Japanese Naval Attaché in Berlin without arousing suspicions. Given that I was related to the office by marriage, I had been singled out for the job.

  Last year in Berlin the Japanese navy had entrusted me with a mission in German occupied British territory, and now the British were asking me to go to Berlin. I couldn’t help laughing at the irony of it. This time I was being told to get information out of my brother-in-law and deliver it to the British.

  “Mr. Hoshino,” Cox said, as if he could read my thoughts. “In the event that we ask you to go to Berlin, we will put you in contact with our agent on the ground. Furthermore, we will ensure your means of escape if it comes to that.”

  “Ensure my escape?” I muttered. If I needed to escape Berlin, it would be because either the Allies or the Soviets, had captured it. At that point in time, I would be on the German side, which meant that escaping would be particularly dangerous. In reality, accepting this mission would be tantamount to taking a one-way ticket.

  Did it make sense for me to go in such dangerous circumstances? There was only a small chance that Bormann, with his Arian prejudice, might choose to send Hitler’s child to Japan, surely. And it wasn’t known how long Japan could continue the war, either. It was highly possibly that my efforts would end up being in vain. For the British, I was just one of many disposable pawns. But then, the thought that Hitler’s son might survive was terrible for the future of humankind. Shouldn’t I help to ensure he couldn’t be taken to Japan?

  There was also the fact that Catherine and Erika made good hostages. Then again, if I were single I probably would have accepted without a second thought. It might be indiscreet of me to admit it, but the opportunity to be in Berlin to witness the historical moment of the collapse of the Third Reich interested me. I was tingling with curiosity despite the danger. But now I had Catherine and our daughter. I couldn’t be reckless with my life.

  Also, this was a tough mission, and going reluctantly only because of the hostages did not bode well for success. Given the poor prospect of coming back alive, I myself had to have a clear sense of mission. That must be why they showed me that letter from Japan. Various people passed through my mind. A sense of mission, liberating my fellow citizens from further suffering, a sacrifice now for future world peace…it was true. I understood that. It was because he understood this that Yagyu had tried to reach London.

  But I couldn’t bring myself to consent.

  I looked down, saying nothing.

  They didn’t appear to be expecting a quick answer, and Cox said calmly, “Mr. Hoshino, I fully understand your hesitation. There is no need to make a decision in the next day or two. If Bormann does ever make contact with the Japanese navy, it’ll only be when the Nazi collapse is at last imminent. Since the plot to assassinate Hitler failed, conversely a tragic sense of determination to fight to the last is now emerging, and it’s not as if the Allies have even entered Germany yet. There is still plenty of time.”

  “Even if I do go, though, won’t my sudden appearance in Berlin arouse my brother-in-law’s suspicions? I’m supposed to be in Paris, after all.”

  “No need to worry about that. We arrested you in Paris and are now interrogating you on suspicion of spying. We have indirectly made sure that information has reached your brother-in-law. Therefore, the next time you go to Berlin it will be because you have been cleared of spying and released. All you will need to do is just stay in Berlin resting until contact is made from the German side. Once that contact is made, naturally communications with Tokyo will increase as the preparations are made. If you can get any information at all about when, where from, or which submarine he’ll be in, the mission will have been a success.”

  Arresting me and then clearing me of spying was well-thought out. However, the problem I now faced was that in effect I was a prisoner of war, and I was being requested to be a spy not for Japan but for the British. So even if it wasn’t actually the truth, it wasn’t that far off either.

  I had been blindfolded when brought here, but not on the way out. I was seen off by ten intelligence officers with smiles plastered on their faces, and outside the room I found Walker waiting for me, stony faced as always.

  “Fancy a beer?” he asked.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked back, surprised.

  “I’m in uniform. As long as you’re with me, nobody will think you’re Japanese. The Republic of China is one of our allies. You don’t mind passing for Chinese, do you? Sometimes you need to take a break.”

  He started driving along the southern side of Hyde Park.

  “My younger brother used to be in the Navy,” he said abruptly.

  “Where is he now?”

  “He was on board the HMS Repulse.”

  “Oh. So he’s…” I was at a loss for what to say.

  “Yes. He died in battle of the coast off Malaya. He sank with the ship after it was hit by Japanese planes,” he said in his usual even tone.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. It’s not your fault, Mr. Hoshino. You were already living in Paris long before the war started. And this is a war between countries, not individual people. Even the pilots of the planes that attacked the Repulse were just following orders. I know all that.” Walker suddenly began sobbing. Still gripping the steering wheel with his right hand, he wiped away tears with his left hand.

  “We were very close,” he went on. “We’d already lost our father in the previous war. He was also in the navy. He was on board a troop transport vessel in the Mediterranean when it was attacked by a German submarine and sank to the bottom of the sea. My brother was a kind man who did everything possible to care for our mother. I already had a premonition when he said he was enlisting in the navy that he would die the same way as our father did. As a soldier, dying in battle is no doubt honourable. But all the honour won’t bring my brother back.”

  We continued towards High Street Kensington.

  “Sorry, I lost control. Not very military, is it? And when I think about it, the relationship between my family and your country is quits,” he said, his voice finally regaining its firmness.

  “Quits?”

  “In the last war my father ofte
n received protection from your country’s naval fleet in the Mediterranean. In that war, our countries were allies. Many British soldiers’ lives were saved because your country dispatched a fleet all the way to the Mediterranean. This time round we’re enemies. How ironic. That’s why I said we were quits.”

  Walker parked the car near the station.

  “There’s a pub I often go to near here,” he said. I felt something refreshed about his manner now that he’d put his monologue behind him. He seemed more comfortable now.

  The pub was just two or three minutes away. As Walker had said, I didn’t attract as much attention as I’d feared. It was true, walking with a British officer I wasn’t likely to be taken for a Japanese man.

  The Goat was a typical English pub like you could find anywhere.

  “Whenever I’m tired after work, downing a pint of bitter here is the best way to unwind,” Walker said, and proceeded to order the drinks.

  I leaned on the counter and looked slowly around the interior. Just across from us was a man wearing a red necktie standing at the bar drinking his pint. He was small with a very thin face and his hair neatly combed back. I felt uneasy, as if there was something upsetting about the man, although I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  The pub was full of workers and soldiers. Everyone looked cheerful, but I didn’t think it was only because of the alcohol. Paris was already liberated, and the Allies were surging towards the German border. They’d had to slow down to allow for supplies to keep up with them, but the war with Germany could be over soon, even within the year. Everyone thought so.

  “And then there’s the German V-1 flying bomb called the Doodlebug,” Walker said, as if reading my thoughts. He handed me a pint. “We never know when one will arrive here, so we end up short of sleep. Lots of people of have been leaving top floor flats and attic rooms for fear of a direct hit. I don’t think it’s enough to change the course of the war, but it’s an annoyance.

  A loudmouth American officer drinking over the other end of the bar suddenly yelled at us, “Hey! You guys,” and leaned over to us, his breath stinking of alcohol, for a friendly chat.

  “They’ve given us plenty of good things from the other side of the Atlantic, but still,” Walker muttered wryly, “These Americans have no way of knowing what the fifth of November means to us.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. I took a mouthful of beer, the first in a long, long time. It really hit the mark, and I felt as though I was coming back to life.

  Later, when we parted, Walker told me I should call him Simon from now on.

  September 1944

  London

  After taking Hoshino to the safe house on the outskirts of London, Simon Walker came back into town. He lived in Brompton, but he stopped off at work along the way to show his face. He turned from Cromwell Road into Gloucester Road.

  As he drove south down Gloucester Road, just as he approached Gloucester Road Station, passengers that had just alighted from a train were beginning to cross the road, and he stopped his car. Just then a man came out of a flat on the right hand side of the road. It was the same man as had been drinking in the Goat earlier. Maybe this was where he lived. His hair was smartly combed back, but his eyes were restless. He must be in his late thirties or so.

  The man was empty-handed, but there was something about his demeanour that Walker instinctively felt was odd, and he looked at the number of the house he’d come out of: number 79.

  The man set off in the opposite direction, walking fast.

  December 1944

  Ardennes Forest

  Germany commenced their last major offensive on the Western Front on 16 December, in what would later come to be known as The Battle of the Bulge. The plan was extremely ambitious. With the main force for the attack comprised of the 6th Panzer Army led by General Sepp Dietrich and the 5th Panzer Army led by General Hasso von Manteuffel, they were to again break through the Ardennes Forest, cross the River Meuse, and aim for Antwerp. After that they would divide and destroy the Allied forces on the Western front, with the result that and as a result, the Western Allies would offer Germany a peace settlement.

  The idea was probably a good one. They exploited a section where the Allies’ supply line was stretched extremely thin, and also deliberately chose bad weather when the allied forces couldn’t fly their planes. Compared to the offensive on Kursk the previous summer when they had fallen into the trap of the Soviet army’s series of defensive belts, this time it was a brilliant surprise attack. The fact that it was just before Christmas amidst rumours of the German army’s self destruction, and directed at a place called the ghost front meant that it completely caught the Allies off guard.

  †

  The German army’s attack on the Ardennes had been devised by Hitler to bring Germany back from the brink of defeat and turn around their fortunes, and was a success in the first week. The surprise attack proved to be highly effective, especially the 5th Panzer Army’s advance on the River Meuse. On Christmas Eve, the Führer himself held a banquet from nine thirty at night at the military headquarters near the Western front for those leading the Ardennes offensive. Turkey and other meat dishes were plentifully served to all the attendees except Hitler, who was vegetarian. Toasts were held with champagne, vodka, and wine, and after the meal they sat around the Christmas tree chatting and enjoying glasses of cognac.

  It was just around that time that the final preparations were being made to the U977 submarine delivering frontline troops. The state of the art Type 21 U-boats didn’t make it in time, and the naval commander Dönitz decided to use the conventional derivative Type 7 for this mission. The deciding factor was that it was fitted with the latest snorkel. On Christmas Day the vessel was entrusted to Captain Heinz Schäffer, a true Berliner.

  It was the last U-boat to leave Norway before the defeat, and reached Argentina two months later. It was rumoured that Hitler was aboard the vessel.

  †

  The most important thing was missing from the Ardennes offensive: there were nowhere near enough troops and fuel to achieve the ambitious objective. They temporarily made a bulge in the Allied front line, but in the end they didn’t cross the River Meuse. They did surround the strategic point of Bastogne, but it held its ground, and General Patton’s Third US Army came to their rescue from the south. After about a week, it was clear the offensive would fail. Once the weather cleared up, the Allies’ fighter bombers returned to the skies and the German vehicles on the ground were destroyed one after another like rabbits hunted by hawks. By mid-January the German army had been forced back to the frontline they had launched their offensive from.

  Meanwhile the Soviets launched a major offensive on the Eastern front. At 03:30 on 12 January, a Soviet artillery attack ripped through the thickly falling snow and darkness turning the eastern sky red.

  The disparity in military force was overwhelming. The Soviets by far had the upper hand in everything, from personnel to cannons, tanks, and aeroplanes. The object of the offensive was clearly the capital of the Third Reich, Berlin, and ultimately to end the war through its occupation.

  Hitler rushed back to Berlin from his headquarters on the Western front, but on 17 January Warsaw was liberated, and by the end of the month the Soviets, spearheaded by the 1st Belorussian Front, reached the River Oder within hailing distance of Berlin. They were only 70 km from the city—just one hour away by car.

  However, the fierce winter that thwarted the German occupation of Moscow three years earlier this time gifted the German army with a sudden thaw. This melted the ice over the River Oder, hindering the advance of the tanks. The infantry, too, were mired down in mud, and the Soviet army’s onslaught was halted.

  After having rapidly advanced over 400 km, the 1st Belorussian Front was stretched for supplies, while the right flank 2nd Belorussian Front was far behind since Marshal Georgy Zhukov had taken the
1st Belorussian Front forward alone. The Soviets feared being caught between German forces attacking from north and south, and Zhukov decided to remove the threat from the north first.

  The Germans managed to gain two and a half months’ reprieve before the Soviets resumed their advance on Berlin.

  Chapter 4

  Memorandum

  Seven months had passed since I’d been told about Romulus and sounded out about going to Berlin. I was probably the only Japanese national to know this secret. Meanwhile my feelings had been oscillating like an erratic pendulum. My thoughts kept going round and round like Foucault’s Pendulum demonstrating the rotation of the Earth.

  At times, I found myself thinking about Commander Yagyu and the letter he’d given his life for in order to ensure it reached London. Behind my eyelids was the image of him swimming from Guernsey towards far-off England that Catherine had described to me. And now I was the one here in London. So wasn’t it fate that I should take up that mission, and prevent Romulus from going to Japan and reviving the Nazis?

  But when the pendulum swung the other way, the figures of Erika and Catherine lightly snoring in bed next to me loomed large. If I didn’t return from to Berlin, how would they manage on their own? What should I do about my responsibility as a father? I wasn’t in the military. I wasn’t under any obligation to follow orders.

  Germany looked increasingly likely to lose the war in Europe. This was abundantly clear as I followed the events reported in the papers on the map: the Allies were daily liberating villages and towns – or rather, recapturing them from Germany—and the frontline was steadily being pushed back. Germany was effectively being squeezed from either side like a walnut in a nutcracker, its shell being steadily crushed.

  The Germans had mounted a counteroffensive on the Ardennes forest, but it gradually ran out of steam and by February the Allies were advancing on the Rhine.