Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II

by John Geoghegan

  A few minutes later, Bando was rowed to his sub.9 As the Segundo shrank in the distance, he was sure he felt Captain Johnson’s good wishes following him.10 But Johnson wasn’t the sentimental type. He sent Lt. (jg) J. K. Brozo to accompany Bando, giving him instructions to keep an eye on things. Johnson didn’t trust Bando, at least not yet.

  Ariizumi and Nambu were waiting on the bridge as Brozo and Bando climbed the ladder. Brozo had no idea about the conflict aboard the I-401. Bando outlined Johnson’s demands, then Lieutenant Brozo pressed the point: “Sail to Yokosuka.”

  “We must go to Ominato in accordance with the Imperial Order,” Nambu replied.

  “The emperor has surrendered. You must follow General MacArthur’s orders.”

  Nambu knew that he was quibbling and that the American officer was correct.11 But Ariizumi, having failed to sink the I-401, was still against returning to Yokosuka. Nambu wasn’t sure why.12 It probably had something to do with preserving the navy’s reputation.13 Of course, the IJN’s reputation was already in tatters. Still, Ariizumi’s personality was such that he insisted on upholding standards to the bitter end.

  Reluctantly, Ariizumi eventually agreed to go to Yokosuka. One thing he couldn’t agree to though was Johnson’s demand to place American officers on board his sub. That would mean the I-401 had surrendered.14

  And so the issue became whether the I-401 could be boarded. Johnson had no intention of allowing the sub to go to Yokosuka on her own, especially given her past behavior. But neither Ariizumi nor Nambu would surrender their sub before returning to Japan.

  While this was going on, Vic Horgan was in the Segundo’s control room plotting the demise of the I-401. There was still a lot the Americans didn’t know about the sub. They had no idea that she was the flagship of a secret armada, or even that her squadron commander was on board. Nor did they know her torpedo tubes were empty, or that her deck guns lacked ammunition. As far as Johnson was concerned, the I-401 was armed and dangerous. And so Horgan monitored the sub’s position, knowing they might have to torpedo her at any moment.15

  As Brozo relayed an update to the Segundo,16 Ariizumi and Nambu developed a plan to outwit the Americans. Neither man completely trusted the other; nor did they have reason to. Nevertheless, the two Japanese officers were not in a position to negotiate. Not only was their sub unarmed, their Naval Defense Command had ordered them to comply with the Segundo’s instructions. And so Ariizumi and Nambu had to find a compromise that not only met the Segundo’s requirements but allowed them to save face as well.

  Their counteroffer was nothing short of brilliant. They would agree to be boarded based on several conditions. First, the boarding party would be composed of five petty officers; no commissioned officers would be included. Next, the boarding party would limit itself to a communications role only. This meant Nambu would continue as captain of the sub. Finally, since the boarding party was in a liaison role, they would remain on deck at all times; they would not venture inside the sub.17

  It was a typical Japanese compromise, engineered to satisfy both parties’ needs yet requiring a willing suspension of disbelief in order to work. Johnson would achieve his goal of putting men aboard the sub, while Ariizumi would retain nominal command, and the I-401 wouldn’t have to surrender until she reached Yokosuka. It was a well-crafted solution that gave both parties what they wanted.

  Bando returned to the Segundo to sell the compromise to Johnson. Though Johnson was reluctant to send only petty officers, he eventually came round.18 It still must have seemed farcical, since the compromise hung on a technicality. The Segundo got its prize crew, and the Japanese avoided surrendering outside home waters. All the prize crew had to do was not go in the sub.

  The compromise was far from farcical though. It not only preserved the Japanese sense of honor—something the Americans only faintly comprehended—it gave Johnson both the boarding party and the destination he wanted. In other words, it allowed Johnson to save face as well. Johnson might not have realized this. Hardly the sympathetic type, it would have been difficult for him to appreciate the importance of saving face to the Japanese. Still, he must have sensed they were men of their word to accept such a compromise.

  As Bando and Johnson continued their conversation, something curious happened.19 The two men began warming to each other. They quickly learned that each had attended his country’s naval academy. Johnson even recalled that the Japanese Navy had visited Annapolis while he was there,20 and Bando thought he might have been on that trip.21 But Johnson was not buying everything Bando was selling. In fact, his attitude was a bit snide, as his patrol report indicates:

  THE WORD “TORPEDO” WAS AN INSURMOUNTABLE BARRIER SO WE WERE UNABLE TO FIND OUT IF THEY HAD SUNK ANYTHING OR HOW MANY FISH THEY CARRIED … [LIEUTENANT BANDO] WAS QUITE PROUD OF THEIR DIVING TIME (ONE MINUTE TEN SECONDS), THEIR MAXIMUM DEPTH (ONE HUNDRED METERS) AND THEIR SPEED (17.5 KNOTS). HE ALSO STATED THEY CARRIED TWO HUNDRED MEN. THIS COULD QUITE POSSIBLY BE AN ERROR ON HIS PART AS I THINK THE WAR INTERRUPTED HIS ENGLISH INSTRUCTION.22

  Though Bando’s English was poor, Johnson understood him well enough. Bando’s explanation of the I-401’s head count, flank speed, dive time, and safety depth weren’t far off the mark. Nevertheless, Johnson’s sarcasm showed through when he noted, “Lt Bondo [sic] was one of the few persons I have ever seen who derived such obvious pleasure from saluting.”23

  Bando had his own agenda, of course. By ingratiating himself with the Segundo’s commanding officer, he hoped to persuade him to allow the I-401 to fly her naval ensign rather than the Stars and Stripes until her surrender.24 It was an important concession, one that could only have been made because of Johnson’s sympathy. The allegedly impetuous sub captain was turning out to be not so impetuous after all. In fact, he’d achieved the seemingly impossible: capturing the I-401 while honoring the Japanese refusal to surrender. It was an unconventional solution, to be sure, one that a more mature and battle-hardened sub captain might not have arrived at. Then again, the Japanese were an unconventional enemy. Johnson’s out-of-the-box thinking had saved the day, plus or minus a few wisecracks.

  * It’s unclear exactly when this meeting took place. Possibly it occurred after Ariizumi ordered the I-401 scuttled, but it seems more likely that Nambu tried to persuade Ariizumi not to scuttle the sub before the fleet commander gave the order. The following conversation is speculative, as it is Lt. Tsugio Yata’s estimate of what may have been discussed.

  CHAPTER 38

  BOARDING PARTY

  JOHNSON PICKED HIS EXECUTIVE OFFICER, LIEUTENANT BALSON, to lead the boarding party. Since Johnson had agreed that no officers would board the I-401, Balson stripped his shirt of rank and changed into a pair of dungarees.1 When the boarding party was complete, five men joined Balson as the I-401’s prize crew: COB (chief of the boat) E. A. Russell; MM1c (motor machinist’s mate first class) Ralph S. Austin; EM1c (electrician’s mate first class) Kenneth H. “Skinny” Diekmann; TM2c (torpedo’s mate second class) Jenison V. Halton; and QM3c (quartermaster third class) Carlo M. Carlucci. It was one more than Johnson had promised, but the enemy was in no position to object.

  Balson issued each man a sidearm before boarding his raft, then at 8:45 A.M. set out for the I-401.2 Balson could tell that the small group of Japanese officers who met them were tense.3 Then again, the Japanese felt the same way about the Americans.

  The first thing Balson did, once he was aboard, was chain the I-401’s hatches open. Next, he sent Russell to check on the torpedoes.4 The I-401’s sonar operator thought the reason the rest of the Americans didn’t go inside the sub was that they knew Ariizumi was on board and were afraid.5 According to the terms Bando had negotiated, however, the Segundo’s boarding party was to remain topside. This meant Balson and his men camped on the aft section of the hangar roof, where they could keep an eye on the bridge.6 Carlucci had been warned that if he heard a hissing sound, it meant the sub was submerging. In that case, he was to fire a signal
flare and either run to the bridge to keep its hatch from closing or, if it was too late, inflate his “Mae West” and jump overboard.7

  Balson and his men weren’t eager to mingle with the enemy, so they were happy to remain secluded on the aft deck. They’d brought blankets for the cold as well as food, and when they needed water they hollered down the bridge hatch until someone rewarded them with a flask of sake.8

  Finally at 9:05 A.M. the subs set course for Sagami Bay. While the I-401 proceeded at 15 knots, the Segundo kept station off the sub’s port quarter. It didn’t take long though before Nambu tested the ropes that bound him. Less than an hour later, he reported engine trouble and slowed his sub to 11 knots.9

  “They better get their fuckin’ boat under way or I’ll blow it the fuck out of the water,” Johnson exclaimed.10

  For the Japanese to be having second thoughts this early in the voyage was concerning. Fearing that their agreement was unraveling, Johnson contacted his superiors and reported the sub as hostile.11

  The USS Tigrone (SS 419) was sent to assist, but three hours after the I-401 reported engine trouble, she still lagged behind. Finally Johnson signaled the sub to fix her engine or “we’ll come over and do it for you.”12

  Nambu assured them that wouldn’t be necessary.13

  Johnson was right to suspect the Japanese of second thoughts. The I-401’s engine had broken down,14 but Ariizumi was also trying to find a way to avoid Yokosuka. Johnson would be damned if he’d give an inch. As far as he was concerned, he was escorting a hostile submarine barely under his control. If the I-401 so much as looked crooked, he’d send her to the bottom.

  A few minutes before six that evening, the I-401 came to a stop and signaled she was sending an officer over. Twenty minutes later Lieutenant Bando appeared for the third time that day. Johnson was already irritated by the diversion, and hit the roof when Bando showed him dispatches ordering the I-401 to Ominato.15

  “I take a very dim view of your actions,” Johnson told him. “We either proceed with you handling your sub, or with our Prize Crew in charge.”16

  Johnson must have thought it a childish ploy, since the only orders he obeyed came from ComSubPac. What he didn’t realize was that Ariizumi had not only informed his naval command he’d been captured, he’d also requested permission to proceed to Ominato. When he was told to comply with the Segundo’s orders, Ariizumi had chosen to ignore the message and try to trick Johnson instead. Clearly, Ariizumi still had some fight left.

  Early the next morning Johnson received orders regarding the I-401’s surrender. After ordering her to stop, Johnson boarded the sub to personally relay the instructions.17

  “I’s sorry you come,” Nambu told him, but Johnson was in no mood for pleasantries.18

  The meeting lasted just long enough for Johnson to tell Nambu that the Japanese naval ensign would be lowered the next morning at 5:00,19 with a formal surrender at 11:00. Nambu would retain the conn until then. Once the I-401 had surrendered in Sagami Bay, she would proceed to Yokosuka, where she would moor next to the Proteus.20 In the meantime, the funny business was to stop.

  The communication went more smoothly this time, with Nishimura serving as translator.21 Nambu reassured Johnson he’d received the same orders, but the accommodation was not to last.

  Later that night Johnson received a dispatch from Adm. William F. Halsey, commander of the Third Fleet, saying that the I-401 was transmitting disturbing messages to Japan’s Naval Defense Command.22 Johnson suspected as much, though he thought it was Nambu (not Ariizumi) who sought to ignore his instructions. The Segundo’s captain certainly didn’t want an enemy sub broadcasting without his permission. Disgruntled forces might home in on the signal and launch an attack.23 Five minutes later Johnson ordered Balson to locate the radio and disable it. Once again Ariizumi’s plans had been thwarted.

  THAT EVENING, AS Nambu stood on the bridge, he felt a darkness inside that had nothing to do with night. He’d learned some troubling news earlier in the day. 24 The Sixth Fleet, the submarine arm of the Imperial Japanese Navy, had officially been disbanded.25 The news infuriated him. Sixth Fleet subs were still at large, yet their command had ceased to exist.26 These were the people who had micromanaged every operational detail since the war had begun. The same people who had ignored his advice, whether it was the difficulty in attacking a well-guarded anchorage, the need to target merchant rather than capital ships, or the foolishness of carrying out resupply operations. They’d refused to listen to the hard-won experience of their most seasoned sub captains, and he had paid the price. Now, during the sub force’s darkest hour, when they should be upholding naval tradition, the Sixth Fleet had washed their hands of him. It made a travesty out of everything Nambu believed in, and left him fuming.

  Nambu had every right to feel betrayed. After all, he’d been on the front lines of Japan’s sub war since the attack on Pearl Harbor. He’d served on board the first sub to shell the U.S. mainland; he’d survived combat operations off Australia and mole ops in the South Pacific. Here he was, one of the war’s last surviving sub captains, with a nearly insane commander, yet he was still trying to conduct himself with honor and dignity. Where was the honor in disbanding the Sixth Fleet? Abolishing it violated everything the IJN represented. What in God’s name had they been fighting for?

  Ariizumi was also topside that night. Standing on the deck beneath Nambu, he too stared into the darkness. Nambu was concerned with the commander’s increasingly strange behavior.27 Ever since the I-401 had been captured, Ariizumi had wandered the sub as if he were lost. Wearing an undershirt and a white pith helmet he had worn in Penang, he haunted the compartments like a ghost.28 Nambu had informed him their surrender would occur the next morning. He’d also told him the Sixth Fleet had been disbanded. Both pieces of news must have been a blow, which was why Ariizumi was coming apart before Nambu’s eyes. Still, the question remained whether Nambu could maintain control of his sub long enough to reach home. There were only a few hours left before the surrender. If he could prevent Ariizumi from taking any action, they just might reach Yokosuka, unless the commander had other plans. Unfortunately, “other plans” was exactly what Ariizumi was thinking about as he stared out to sea.

  CHAPTER 39

  THE TENTH WAR GOD

  THE I-401 WAS DUE TO ARRIVE AT SAGAMI BAY EARLY THE MORNING of August 31. Nambu was to officially hand his sub over to Lieutenant Balson and then follow the Segundo into Tokyo Bay. Meanwhile, a feeling of dread pervaded the sub.

  Nambu hadn’t slept for days, so he retired to his cabin to get a few hours of rest. He found it difficult to sleep knowing surrender was only hours away. The oppressive heat didn’t help. Suddenly, at 4:20 A.M., he was awakened by a shot.1

  The sound came from Ariizumi’s quarters. Jumping out of his bunk, Nambu ran into the passageway and pushed open the commander’s door. What he saw was a grisly sight. The commander was seated in a chair wearing his formal naval uniform, a pistol in his right hand. The smell of gunpowder filled the cabin,2 and the glass in the clock on the bulkhead behind him was shattered where the bullet had struck.3

  Despite the bloodshed, Nambu thought the commander looked dignified.4 He sat upright, his medals and merit sash5 testimony to his many accomplishments. The gun was still in his mouth, smoke from its discharge hung in the air. Though the back of his head had been blown off, he’d been careful to aim the pistol toward the ceiling before firing. Even in death Ariizumi was meticulous.

  Otherwise, the commander’s cabin appeared tidy. A photo on his desk showed the nine war gods who, under his command, had bravely sailed their midget subs against Pearl Harbor. His service sword was also on the desk,6 along with three handwritten notes.7

  Nambu examined the letters carefully. One was addressed to the Imperial Japanese Navy, another to Nambu, and the third to Matsu, Ariizumi’s wife. Nambu fought back his emotions as he contemplated the commander’s suicide. He had not gotten along with Ariizumi, but Nambu could apprec
iate the courage it had taken to commit such a selfless act. It was not only a magnificent accomplishment,8 it was the honorable thing to do, and Nambu admired him for it.

  Picking up the letter addressed to the Imperial Japanese Navy, Nambu read Ariizumi’s final words.

  As a professional, I have failed to fulfill my duties. This was my responsibility and I am deeply sorry. With my death, I maintain the traditions of the Imperial Japanese Navy and I take pride in having commanded a squadron that fought in the Pacific until the end of the war. I am confident my crew will serve the country as loyal subjects and I pray for the rebuilding of the Japanese Empire. Long live the Emperor.9

  Nambu wasn’t surprised it had come to this. He’d hinted to his officers that such a thing might happen.10 But many of his men were caught off guard. Yata had been on the bridge standing watch earlier that morning when Ariizumi had appeared wearing his pith helmet:

  “Gunnery chief, anything new?” the commander asked.

  It was a rule never to take one’s eyes off the horizon when on watch, so Yata remained glued to his binoculars and answered, “No, sir.”11

  Yata later realized that he was probably the last person to converse with the commander, and that the crumpled paper he saw Ariizumi throw into the sea had been an early version of a suicide note. Ariizumi was a stickler for discipline; no litter was allowed inside or outside the boat. Still, his strange behavior had gone unnoticed.12

  Ariizumi asked that his last words be shared with the naval high command.13 Unfortunately, this request was impossible to fulfill, since the Sixth Fleet had already disbanded. But Nambu felt compelled to honor the wish even if it only meant sharing Ariizumi’s words with the I-401’s crew.14 The second note, addressed to Nambu, was also written in Ariizumi’s careful hand. In it, he made clear the reason for his death:

  We will be forced to raise the American flag at 5:00 a.m. It is more than I can bear to see.