by Lars Teeney
If Inoguchi were part of the leadership of Japan he would have done everything he could to put an end to the war peacefully, but sadly, in this highly rigid, militaristic system there was hardly room for compromise. This was the reality of the situation and he was the Captain of the largest of the Imperial battleships, so he surmised that his ultimate fate would lie in flame and wreckage, or at the silent bottom of the Pacific Ocean. He yearned for his home province, to see it one last time before another campaign. Shizuoka, was his home prefecture. The Inoguchi family had dwelt there for generations. He hailed from the city of Fujinomiya, which as its name indicated was located in the shadow of Mount Fuji. He missed the seaside air, the fish that were caught directly from Suruga Bay, and the sight of a weather system hugging the slopes of the iconic mountain. Most of all, he missed the embrace of his wife, and the wail of his small boy, whom he left at their modest home of paper and timber. In this far-flung region of the newly-sculpted empire, there was nothing that reminded him of what the Home Islands offered, and it saddened Inoguchi that he would meet his fate in strange waters. At the same time, if it meant that another Japanese city would be left intact then he would accept it.
An aide knocked on Inoguchi’s cabin door, and he prompted the aide to enter. The aide had a message from the Admiralty. He promptly handed it to Inoguchi, then bowed and was dismissed. Inoguchi speculated what the envelope contained. Were these the fateful orders for him to lead his battle group into the ages on some suicide mission? Captain Inoguchi used a dagger sitting on his desk to slice the sealed orders open. He unfolded the sheet and read the message written in Kanji. The message was ordering his battle group and associated aircraft carriers to the Mariana Islands. The Japanese Admiralty had been convinced that an American amphibious assault would soon be underway to take the islands after American aircraft carriers had started heavy air strikes against the islands. A good majority of the Japanese mobile fleet would converge to combat the invasion.
Of course, Inoguchi knew that this would mean that his ship, the Musashi would be at the vanguard of the attack—to keep the carriers safe from surface action. The Mariana Islands would be where a major clash would take place, and could very well be his grave site. He grabbed his uniform coat and threw it over his shoulders, and attached his officer’s katana to his belt. Inoguchi secured his quarters and made his way down the cramped corridors of his ship, accompanied by his retinue. En route to the bridge, passing sailors stopped abruptly to salute him. Captain Inoguchi entered the bridge of the Musashi and an ensign announced his presence. The crew stood at attention and Inoguchi dismissed them. He activated the intercom and prepared to make a general announcement.
“Honorable sailors of the Imperial Navy: I have received orders from the Admiralty and I am here to tell you about our next mission—a mission to protect what Japan has built. Our nation, at the end of the last century, had been at the mercy of foreign powers. They dictated the terms of trade agreements and held our nation hostage. So our Forefathers had done something about it: they went abroad to study the methods and institutions of the industrialized powers of the West. They accumulated a vast store of knowledge and brought it back to our Island domain to raise us out of a feudal way of life. What took Europe one hundred years of development, our Fathers accomplished in within a generation.
The established World Powers felt threatened by what we built, and when Japan sailed out to the horizons to forge an empire from distant lands—just as the British, just as the French, just as the Spanish, just as the Russians, and just as the Americans had done—they cried foul! They branded us as subhuman and vowed that they would stop us at all costs. The brave sons of Japan had made it happen: they forged the Empire; your empire! Now, as we speak, a little under one hundred years after the Americans sailed into Tokyo Bay, brandishing their guns, kick-starting our need for modernization, they are now back, doing everything they can to chip away at our hard-won empire!
And they are succeeding! Island by island and ship-by-ship they destroy what our fathers built and what you so passionately defend! But, they won’t stop there. When they are triumphant they will occupy your country, tear down your shrines, and force your children to speak their mongrel tongue. That will be the fate of our country if we fail here at sea. We are the one thing standing between the enemy and our home, and Emperor.
That is why I am here today to tell you that I have received orders that our mighty ship, the Musashi will be the flagship of a massive battle group to engage the American fleet in a battle—that can turn the tide of war back in our favor. We now draw a line in the sea with our ships and say not one league further. We will check their advance at the Mariana Islands and send them to the bottom of the sea or we shall dwell there ourselves. And so, my brave officers and crew, I give you the order to set sail to our destiny!” The Captain concluded his speech and hung up the intercom horn.
The ship was in an uproar over the Captain’s speech, “Bonzai! Bonzai!” was chanted by all throughout the ship, with the characteristic throwing up of arms. As the cheering died down there was a buzz of activity as sailors rushed about the ship to get to their action stations. Captain Inoguchi slumped in his command chair slightly. The speech had exhausted him. It didn’t suit his nature, and he knew it was deceitful. He was not ultra-nationalist like the rest of the Admiralty. The only thing that kept him from mutinying was his sense of honor, otherwise he’d be sailing toward the American fleet under white flags to defect.
The fact that the Admiralty was mustering such a force did give him a certain reassurance. With the force gathering—if used properly could give the Americans quite a shock. It was enough of a fighting force to theoretically knock the American carriers out of action, and if that occurred, surely it would force the Americans to the negotiating table? Inoguchi vowed to make as big as an impact as possible. He would show the Americans that it would be a far more attractive option to sit down at the table than to engage in a war of annihilation—the way the Germans and Russians fought in Europe.
The Musashi was under way and her massive propellers diced through the water. The journey would take a little under a week and the merging of fleets would probably take the better part of a day. Inoguchi would instruct his crew to write their final letters home and to make offerings to their ancestors. He would treat this as a one-way trip.
Captain Inoguchi got up and left the Conn. He dismissed his retinue and told them to wait on the bridge. Inoguchi stepped out a hatchway that led to the weather deck and walked over to the bulwark. He leaned on it and peered off into the horizon. The sun had climbed a quarter way into the sky and was sending rays down in a manner that inspired his country’s flag. Inoguchi got to thinking about his own religion. He didn’t practice Shinto, but he knew all about it. He had to keep the appearance that he actively practiced, for it was the state religion. Being a Christian, he assumed that most of his American adversaries were also Christian.
Inoguchi pondered how his God would view his actions—having already taken so many Christian lives, and was most certainly going to take countless more. He extrapolated that his God must be a warlike god, having presided over numerous religious wars against other faiths and between sects of Christianity. The nature of the Faith was warlike, as God supplied the Europeans and Americans with no shortage of blood lust, against one another and against foreign nations. Or was it something else? Christianity was after all, at its core, a religion of peace. When Inoguchi had practiced it he felt at peace—praying to Jesus. It was a different story with his ancestors, who acted as assassins for several Shogun. They were ruthless and fearless religious zealots, who felt no pain, and didn’t fear death. Perhaps they had caught the violent, infectious strain of Christianity that the Americans and Europeans seem to be infected with. He asked himself was it the effect of the religion on the civilization, or the civilization’s effect on the religion.
Inoguchi had known that in its early days the Religion was for the weak: the poor and
the disenfranchised; a religion for slaves. As time progressed and the religion spread, it had been transformed into a political tool to extend the power of a faltering empire: that of the Romans. That ancient, warlike empire which had been built through conquest would gain another couple hundred years of survival by adopting Christianity, the religion of the slaves, as its official state religion. But, it would not be adopted unchanged. It would be revised, edited, gospels deleted, and councils would add new rules. It would be transformed into a warrior’s religion.
Maybe this was the reason Inoguchi’s family flocked to Christianity, like moths to a flame, in times past? Because the religion was compatible with the beliefs of Bushido: the way of the Samurai. The messengers who brought the Christian religion fourth to Japan were monks of peace, but the adherents: the explorers, the seamen, the merchants and the colonizers were the polar opposite. These foreigners showed the Inoguchi clan a new spiritual system that filled the need for salvation and rewarded those who bathed in the blood of infidels.
Inoguchi saw that it was his lord God’s plan that he be locked in a life and death struggle against men of the same faith. If he didn’t intend it to be so, God would surely show him a sign to stop fighting. No sign had been given. But it could still come—there was still time to avert the slaughter of Christians. Inoguchi made the sign of the cross against his body, careful to conceal his actions the best he could.
Inoguchi took one last look around the horizon where the ocean waters met the sky. He came to the conclusion that his God was a vengeful one that took pleasure in battle and was pleased with the sacrifice that would come soon. It would be a worthy sacrifice for His favor. With that thought, Inoguchi clasped his katana and turned back to the Conn tower, to be swallowed by the steel structure of the ship that was his Crusader’s armor.
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Captain Inoguchi’s transport plane had to fly very low, across vast tracks of ocean to avoid Allied RADAR. Also, most scout planes flew at very high altitudes to sweep the ocean for ship formations. Flying low made it tough for scout planes to detect them. It was a tense flight. Inoguchi had felt the sensation of flying low to the water very terrifying, but exhilarating. Inoguchi’s detail had taken off from his battle group near Manila Bay in the Philippines en route to Okinawa. The weather had been misty and the water choppy, which added to the nervousness. Admiral Ozawa had summoned Captain Inoguchi for reasons unknown to him. The communiqué had been brief and coded. Captain Inoguchi speculated that maybe the secret of his religious beliefs had been revealed, but then he concluded this was probably not the case because he would have been taking into custody by now.
Inoguchi’s plane gained altitude. He could see that they were coming upon the steep cliffs of Okinawa. This was the closest he had been to the Home Islands in over a year. The plane passed over rice patties and modest farmsteads. The land was lush green and the air was wet. The plane veered off to the west and came upon Oroku naval base. The pilot maneuvered the plane to land on the roughly-constructed airstrip. The plane bounced several times due to an overly hasty landing on the pilot’s part. Captain Inoguchi’s spectacles nearly fell off his face, but he caught them in time.
The plane came to a halt and the propeller sputtered out and slowed. A military policeman approached to open the side door on the fuselage, and Inoguchi and his detail stepped down from the aircraft. They were greeted with salutes from awaiting officers. A short man in khaki fatigues spoke first, “Captain Inoguchi, I’m pleased to see that you have made it here safely. Admiral Ozawa awaits your company. He has much to discuss with you. Please follow me.”
The short officer gestured for the group to follow. His hosts walked toward a nondescript, brick office building that served as the Admiral’s headquarters. Inoguchi was escorted to a dojo-like training room. When he walked in, he was presented with an ornate room, with dark wood molding that lined the walls, a light, hardwood floor, covered with soft mats, and practice weapon racks on either side of the room. In the middle of the space were two men squaring off in a mock battle. One man was tall, around six foot seven inches. Both men were clad in padded outfits and face masks, fighting with wooden kendo swords. The tall man stood in a defensive posture with his practice sword held point out. The shorter man lunged for a quick lateral attack with his sword. The tall man side-stepped the attack and with a loud battle cry, brought the practice sword down on the base of the shorter man’s neck. The man received a mock death.
The two stepped back several paces and bowed to one another. Then, the men removed their face masks. The taller man was Admiral Ozawa, commander of the Japanese Combined fleet. He approached Captain Inoguchi, and Inoguchi prompted his detail to stand at attention. They saluted the Admiral, and he reciprocated. Ozawa signaled for the men to be at ease. The tension lessened.
“Greetings Captain Inoguchi. I trust your journey was uneventful,” Admiral Ozawa said, towering over Inoguchi.
“Thank you, Admiral. I am privileged to be called to your presence. I am eager to learn what we can do to win the Emperor honor and glory against his enemies,” Captain Inoguchi responded.
“Please, come with me—we shall have some tea.” Ozawa led Inoguchi into a conjoining tea room and they knelt at a low table where a uniformed woman brought a lacquered kettle and serving glasses. She poured the tea in a traditional gesture that had been practiced to perfection. Admiral Ozawa picked up his cup and took a sip. Inoguchi followed suit.
“My dear Captain Inoguchi, I have brought you here to divulge something to you,” Ozawa stated.
“Due tell, Admiral,” Inoguchi said, then tipped his cup to his mouth.
“As you may have known, Rear Admiral Kusanagi had been shot down in his transport plane by an American fighter patrol and the post has remained open ever since,” Ozawa stated.
“I am aware sir. A tragic loss.” Inoguchi removed his hat as a sign of respect for the dead.
“Well, Inoguchi, I am compelled to raise you up to this vacant rank. With you at the helm of the Musashi it is a natural move for me,” Admiral Ozawa said with a stern face. He always wore a stoic expression, even when he laughed.
“I am honored, and, of course, not worthy of this esteemed position, sir!” Inoguchi made himself small when he bowed.
“Nonsense, Inoguchi, you will be expected to take the position. It all fits into my battle plan.” Ozawa was stern and there was no way around it. His eyes pierced Inoguchi.
“Yes, Admiral, sir. I will serve in this rank to the utmost of my ability,” Inoguchi confirmed reluctantly.
“Most excellent. Now that this matter is settled, let me tell you of events shaping up that will soon come to a head,” Ozawa spoke forebodingly.
“The Americans have been invading our far-flung outposts for quite some time, as you know. Taking each small speck from us, one at a time. The Admiralty thought that they would continue this pattern further south, but their fleet has turned abruptly and are heading for the Marianas Islands. We think that they will strike there next. The Admiralty is convinced that an offensive in this place could check the American advance. We have been given the entire Combined Fleet to use for this end, so you will help me execute our battle plans, from command of the flagship Musashi, in the forward battleship picket line.” Ozawa revealed the nature of the mission.
“Thank you, Admiral, I will strive to live up to your expectations.” Inoguchi would be the first line of defense for the carriers of the Imperial Navy. If they used the Super Battleships as battering rams to clear the way for bomber wings and were supported by aircraft, there may be hope yet.
“Perfect, with the Emperor’s favor you and I will send the American fleet to the bottom of the Pacific. We just might be able to salvage this collapsing empire yet. Now, if you excuse me Inoguchi, I must prepare for a meeting with the Prime Minister Tójó Hideki. He arrives later today and will want a full presentation on our strategy for the upcoming campaign. You may attend since you are here,” Ozawa said a
s he dismissed Inoguchi. Inoguchi was taken aback by the news of the Prime Minister’s visit. He figured that he would attend the briefing to gauge the leadership’s view of the operation. But, for now he required a shower and supper as he was stale from the long flight to Okinawa.
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Inoguchi had bathed and enjoyed some time in a sauna to sweat out impurities and tension. His porter had laid out his finest dress uniform for the evening’s reception. Inoguchi dressed and straightened his tie. He had his porter assist with the pinning of metals onto the breast of his uniform. Inoguchi cleaned his spectacles and adjusted his officer’s cap in the mirror. He was now a Rear Admiral in the Imperial Japanese Navy—or what was left of it. The Navy was still a formidable power with a sizable carrier force left in service, and two of the largest battleships ever plunged into the oceans of the Earth. One of which he was in command of, the Musashi.
Captain Inoguchi decided to get some air before spending the evening in a stuffy reception full of pomp and circumstance. He dismissed his porter and exited the building into the late afternoon air. It was mild but, still warm out. The sun was low in the sky and shot red rays across the sky that illuminated the undersides of small, spotted clouds that pockmarked the deep blue. As the sun drew closer to the horizon, its rays diminished in intensity and the reflection on the clouds faded in color. Inoguchi took stock of this portent, then continued his walk around the grounds. Inoguchi spied an incoming plane marked with the Red Sun of the Empire. It was being escorted by a squadron of Zero fighters, that circled overhead as the plane made its landing. He surmised that it was Prime Minister’s plane.