The three of them spend the next several minutes in silence. Finally, Gary speaks.
“Since we’re going to take no action, then I think we should make the most of our time.” Gary stands and fills each of his grandparent’s cups with more tea, pours a cup for himself and takes a seat. “There! Now we’re ready. Grandfather, please tell me all about your first life, while we are still relatively safe.”
Ken smiles and glances at Sun, who returns his smile. “Allow me a moment to slip myself from the present into the very distant past. The events you are to learn of took place so long ago.” Ken begins to slowly stroke his beard as he closes his eyes.
“We are lying on the bottom of West Loch for a second day. It is stifling hot, even with the ventilators running. We know the battery level is no longer a concern as we cannot escape so we make ourselves as comfortable as possible. We eat and drink most of our food supplies this day, leaving just enough so we can easily carry a little food to shore with us after nightfall. While we have many potential safe contacts, we also have no knowledge how close to our location any of them might truly prove to be. So we eat well, all things considered, and we rest.”
“When we laid in provisions I decided we might need as much as three full days of food and drink as I had planned for three potential exit avenues: The first was we slipped out of the harbor immediately after firing our warheads. The second exit avenue was my plan to lie low in West Loch and sneak out the following night. The third avenue proved to be the route we would follow.”
“You see, I possess a set of maps depicting in detail both the harbor and the island of Oahu along with a list of safe houses and their addresses. The safe houses belong to Japanese living on Oahu and who are known to be trustworthy. I committed their names and locations to memory in advance, just as I memorized the harbor and the island.”
“Remember, the passage from Kure to Oahu was very long and I had many hours to study and meditate. I filled myself with a determination to return and personally report to Admiral Yamamoto and, of course, accept his offer to have luncheon with him again. I must consider Kamita and I are Samurai on a mission and the mission includes returning to our Navy to fight again. And I also feel it is imperative I report of the torpedo, radio, periscope, propeller and rudder issues, which should be corrected prior to future operations.”
“I am also very much attached to Kamita, as he had proven on many occasions to be an indispensable engineer. This last day in our little submarine I find time to meditate and imagine the two of us standing before Admiral Yamamoto, smiling with pride as he looks at us. The image is so vivid I convince myself it is nothing less than a spiritual glimpse into our future.”
“Years later I will read a book written by Kazuo Sakamaki, the midget submariner the Americans captured and labeled ‘Prisoner of War Number One.’ My opinion of him is not positive; not now and not then for he placed the entire mission at risk due to his improper decision making. But I digress.”
“As I said, we waited on the bottom of West Loch until it was near ten at night. There was no moonlight to deal with, which would have been a problem. Judging it is time to proceed, I begin to give the necessary orders…”
“Kamita, it is time for us to make ready. Put on your uniform and gather the food in the canvas sack.”
But Sir, our orders were to go ashore naked and seek civilian clothing,” says Kamita.
“Good point, but I remember seeing photos of pineapple plantation workers. You see, I had a cousin return from a long stay on Oahu and his pictures depicted bare-chested men working in the fields. So we will remove our shirts, wrap our supplies and lock box within them and, once we reach shore, roll around in the mud to disguise our trousers.”
“Aye that sounds like an excellent plan,” Kamita’s voice reflects confidence.
“I must make appropriate entries into the log as from this point forward it will be a record of our successful efforts to return to our Navy. I will wrap it in oil cloth for protection during our swim. Please hand me the water resistant box.”
Kamita fumbles around a little, locates the box and offers it.
“Good!” I take the box and quickly place some useful items, along with the logbook and Kamita’s pendant into it.
With the box slung over my shoulder and my pistol in one of my pockets, I look at Kamita, who is ready for our next endeavor.
“Bring us to the surface very slowly as we need a very quiet emergence.”
“Aye, we will barely cause a ripple,” Kamita responds.
He slowly turns several valves and in a few moments I feel us break free from the bottom and begin to rise. He does an excellent job as it requires nearly two minutes to reach the surface. Once on the surface I give my final orders as Commander of the I-16 tou.
“When I open the hatch, you set fire to our orders and harbor maps, and remember the four words that have brought us this far and which will guide us home: Vision, Spirit, Patience and Honesty.” I reach up, twist the locking mechanism on the hatch and, using my shoulder, force it open, revealing a starlit night sky while Kamita sets fire to the sensitive documents.
“Kamita, once ashore we must act as if chameleons and disappear into the landscape. Remember, speak only English from this point forward, only English! Now open the flood valves and be ready for a quick swim.”
“Should I set the scuttle charges?” Kamita asks.
“No, the explosion would risk bringing undue attention upon us. It is best the Americans never discover we were here.”
“Aye, opening the flood valves!” As Kamita opens the valves I scamper through the conning tower, out the hatch and down to the foredeck. Soon he joins me and we slip over the side and into the cool water. We are pleased to discover we are only about twenty meters from the shoreline and we make quick work of the swim. As we crawl through the thick, tall weeds lining the shore we both instinctively turn and look behind us. At that moment the conning tower is slipping below the surface for the last time. We pause for several moments, watching the bubbles escape from our submarine. Soon, there are only the faintest of ripples in the water.
“Let’s climb to the top of the berm and take our bearings.” I discover I am slightly out of breath, not so much from the swim, but from excitement. Every nerve ending in my body is alive and I feel as if I am attuned to everything around me as we climb to the top of the berm. Once there we have a good view of West Loch which proves much larger than it appeared on the map and is totally deserted. I feel quite safe, at least for the moment.
“Remember, only English now,” I whisper.
“Aye, in which direction is the safe house?” Kamita asks.
I glance at the sky in search of the North Star. My compass is useless in the dark and we have no flashlights. The bulbs in both flashlights we had brought with us were shattered during the depth charge attack. Here is where the hours I expended memorizing the map of Oahu and the locations of safe houses come into play. I point towards a mountain range.
“That way, my friend. We must skirt to the left of the mountain and about four to six kilometers beyond is a sugar cane plantation owned by a trusted Japanese family. With luck, we might be there around daybreak.”
“Aye, I am ready.”
“Wait, you brought my sword! I told you to leave it behind. It can do us no good whatsoever!” Kamita appears offended.
“You carried this sword with you for years, it has brought you this far and I felt it my duty to carry it for you.”
“Perhaps you are right, but at the first sign of trouble you must throw it as hard as you can, out of sight. Understood?”
“Aye.” Kamita slips the sword under his belt and throws the canvas bag with their provisions over his left shoulder. I point to a spot off to our left where there appears to be a trail.
“Follow close behind me and stay alert. We must hurry.” The trail is very crude soon brings us to a road. There is no traffic and no patrol in sight so we quickly cross and return to
the path which leads us in the general direction we must travel. In about one hour we reach another road, only this time we can hear the sound of trucks coming our way. We hide in the undergrowth and patiently wait as four U. S. Army trucks rumble past at low speed, with small slits as their headlights. Once the sound of the trucks has completely faded away we quickly scurry across the road and continue forward to an uncertain welcome.
As the sky begins to reveal the first signs of the coming day we stop to rest. Kamita brings out the last of the sandwiches and an apple juice for each of us.
“We will rest here for a little while. I do not think we can be far away and it makes sense to eat and rest now, just in the event I am wrong about the location of the plantation.” With a sandwich in my left hand and a bottle of apple juice in my right, I make myself comfortable under a banyan tree.
“I can use the sword to dig a hole for burying our empty bottles,” Kamita says with a smile. “See, it is a handy item to have with us!” He laughs.
I can only smile slightly as I believe it is a bad idea to carry a sword with us and it worries me we might run into trouble so quickly we cannot dispose of it. Despite my apprehension, I allow him to keep it.
After the rest break we soon reach the crest of a small volcanic outcropping. Stretching before us are acres of sugar cane and maybe three hundred meters beyond the edge of the nearest cane field is a small house. “Kamita, this is it!”
Kamita smiles broadly. “Of course it is. I have complete confidence in you,” he replies.
We work our way into the cane fields when suddenly we come upon an elderly Japanese man who is startled to see us. I speak Japanese as I address him. “Sir, we are with the Imperial Japanese Navy and require your assistance, please.” The man looks us over very carefully before responding, also in Japanese.
“I can see that much from the looks of you, but there has been no invasion that I am aware of. What are you doing here?”
“We were in a submarine that was too damaged to continue and were forced to swim ashore. We very much need clothing and a safe place to rest for a day or two.” The old man looks at me almost as if I am some manner of carnival oddity. Finally, he says, this time in English, “For your best interests I trust you can speak some English?”
We smile with relief. “Yes, Sir. We both can speak a little English and have been doing so since we swam ashore. I thought you might not speak it yourself. So, will you assist us?”
“Both of you stay here, out of sight. I will finish my routine morning rounds and return to the house. No need for me to risk doing anything out of the ordinary, for one cannot tell who might be watching!”
I look around and notice a spot about halfway up a small hill, where there is a stand of trees.
“We will go up there where we will sit under the cover of the trees and wait. From that position we can observe your home and in the event we see anyone approaching we will withdraw further into the fields. Will that suit your desires?”
“Yes, yes, go up there and wait for me. When I am ready I will come out the front door and wave my arms. Then come to my house.” The old man turns and continues to complete his early morning routine. We watch him disappear into the cane fields before we make our way up the side of the hill, at the crest of which we find the shade under the trees to be quite satisfactory, not to mention, relaxing.
“We might be here half the day so I suggest you sleep now and I will wake you in two hours. If the old man has not come out yet, then it will be my turn to sleep.”
Kamita slips the canvas sack from his shoulder and uses it as a makeshift pillow. He is asleep before I can say another word.
The waterproof box is bulky and I am relieved to temporarily be rid of it. I find a comfortable place where I can sit with my back to a tree and watch the road. Everything is so green! There is only the occasional cloud and a very pleasant breeze. The air is light, fresh and feels very good in my lungs. A far cry from the acrid air in our little submarine.
From our hilltop position we seem to be in another world. I momentarily close my eyes and imagine Kamita and I are as if Samurai, lost in a tropical paradise. I am roused from my melancholy by the sight of the old man standing in front of his little shack of a home, waving his arms.
I shake Kamita by the shoulders. “Wake up! We must be moving.” He slowly sits up, places his canvas sack over his shoulder and rises. “Look, he is signaling us to come down.” I point towards the house. Kamita’s gaze follows my finger. “I see him, but what if this is a trap?” Kamita asks.
“I have not seen anyone come or go, only the old man. I believe he is not our enemy, and in any event, we have no choice. We must trust in him and in our luck.” I pick up the box, swing its leather strap over my shoulder and begin to quickly jog towards the old man with Kamita on my heels.
It takes about ten minutes to cover the distance and as we approach the front porch, the old man backs up to the entry door, props it open and motions for us to enter. We do not hesitate and upon entering we find a table set for four people, with rice, vegetables, fruits and a steaming pot of boiled fish. What a sight to behold! Standing next to the table is an older Japanese woman. The man closes and locks the door behind him.
“Gentlemen, this is my wife, Sayuri and my name is Nobuo. Please be our guests and honor us by sharing a meal.” He smiles broadly as his wife gestures for us to sit.
“Thank you very much. Your hospitality is most appreciated and you can be certain we will convey your generosity to the Emperor. My name is Yokoyama and this is my engineer, Kamita. We are both of the Imperial Japanese Navy and have endured the misfortune of losing our means of transportation as the result of an action with the Americans.” Both Sayuri and Nobuo shake their heads in understanding as we take our seats, except for Sayuri. She insists on serving each of us and proceeds to do so. Once we are all served we wait for her to take care of her own plate, at which time Nobuo offers a prayer:
“The Rays of the Sun, Moon and Stars, which nourish our bodies…and the five grains of our Earth which nurture our spirits…are all gifts of the Eternal Buddha. Even a mere drop of water or a single grain of rice are nothing…save the result of meritorious work and difficult labor. May this meal assist us to maintain health in body and mind and to uphold the teachings of Buddha as repayment for the Four Favors, and to perform the pure conduct of service to others, such as these two honorable Samurai who honor us with their presence this day.” Nobuo becomes quiet, his head bowed and his eyes closed for several more moments.
“Now we may eat,” he says.
After concluding an excellent meal, Nobuo, Kamita and I walk out to the back of the house. We find a comfortable location in the shade where the three of us sit on the ground to discuss our situation.
Nobuo begins the conversation. “I visited Japan just last year. There was much apprehension among my family over the prospects of a broader war than the never-ending conflict with the Chinese. Several of my relatives are in the army and all of them are fighting in China. On the trip back to Oahu there was much talk among us about the prospect of war with the Western Powers, so when we learned of the attack upon Pearl Harbor, it was not a complete surprise.”
“I am grateful my brother and sister were able to return to Japan only last month. I was happy to supply each of them with two new Singer sewing machines. Of course we did not expect the war to be on our doorstep so quickly, but still, it appears to have been an inescapable event for in my most humble opinion the Army has been in control of our country for some time now, and the Army is always preaching war. Regardless, my loyalty to the Emperor is not diminished so it is my solemn duty to assist the two of you in any manner of which I am capable.” Nobuo pauses as he appears undecided whether to continue.
“May I respectably ask, are you intended as part of the invasion force? The newspaper writes an invasion is expected.”
“Sir,” I reply,” we actually do not have knowledge of any invasion plans. We can ass
ume the newspaper would not be foolishly alarming the citizens, thus we must conduct ourselves on the belief an invasion is, indeed, imminent. So it appears we may need to remain undercover for only a short period of time.”
“Then is it your intentions to remain with me for the near future?”
“No Sir, we have the name of a person we are to contact. I think it best, however, to travel as much as possible by night. These work clothes you have been very considerate to provide for us will make it much easier to disappear into the population while we are here. We are most grateful to you.”
“By night?” Nobuo shakes his head vigorously, indicating his disapproval. “Don’t you know? The United States Army has taken control of the entire island and anyone discovered outside after dark may be shot on sight, no questions asked! To travel at night is very dangerous, especially if you are Japanese.”
“I did not know that, but it is better to travel by night regardless. We will rely upon our senses to avoid detection. If we are not seen, we cannot be questioned! One thing we were not provided with in advance is any manner of traveling papers or identification. However, the person we are to make contact with should be able to help us. After all, we cannot count on an invasion. For now, we must follow orders and making contact with our liaison is our first priority.” Nobuo slowly shakes his head in polite disagreement.
“Gentlemen, I understand you must follow your orders, however it is my humble opinion you should consider remaining with us. In the event an invasion does not come to this island in the next few weeks, then we can consider alternatives.”
“Nobuo, my friend, we truly appreciate your concern. If you could only grant us a provision of water and perhaps some fruit, we would seek to depart shortly after dusk.”
“I am also moved at your interest in our safety,” says Kamita, “but my Commander is correct. We must move on. I will remember you and your wife in my prayers each day.”
Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 18