The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun

by Dirk van den Boom

  Sarukazaki had a cigarette in his hand, its red glow well visible in the darkness.

  “While you were on vacation, plans have changed. I don’t know any details; so far only Inugami has been informed. But he looked so happy and pleased that an important announcement must be imminent.”

  Sarukazaki apparently wanted to add something, but then thought better of it and said nothing. Anyway, Aritomo guessed what he had meant to say – anything that pleased his stern commander didn’t necessarily have to be positive for the rest of the crew. Inugami was far more ambitious than his first officer and ready to give anything to position himself in the right light. Aritomo knew that some of the crew members called him “Lieutenant Taisho” behind his back, hinting to the man’s clear aim to rise to Admiralty rank as quickly and effectively as possible.

  Aritomo always pretended he didn’t hear those remarks. He didn’t like the man, but to obey was his duty. After all, Inugami was only a year older, and therefore it wasn’t so natural for him to beat Aritomo if he didn’t quite do what the commander had asked him to. With the other crew members, perhaps with the exception of the much older boatswain, he dealt liberally with corporal punishment. Blows in the face were not uncommon. Aritomo didn’t belong to the faction among Navy officers who considered this tradition to be meaningful. He didn’t employ beatings, as was his freedom of choice as an officer.

  But who was he to fundamentally question the traditions? That was indeed the job of an admiral.

  “No rumors? Normally, lower ranks know more about everything than we do,” Aritomo insisted.

  Sarukazaki grinned, showing his immaculate white teeth, which Aritomo secretly envied. He took a last drag from his cigarette before dropping the shimmering rest to the floor and putting it out with the heel of his shoe. As a smoker, it was difficult for him to forgo his addiction for weeks while confined in a submarine, aside from those spells they stayed above water.

  “Security measures have been stepped up, there are extra guards, and our commander is dripping with joy – I suspect we expect a really high visit to celebrate our maiden voyage. Probably someone from the highest ranks of Admiralty, if you ask me.”

  Aritomo nodded. This supposition did indeed fit well with his own speculations. “Then we should be ready,” he said, taking in the cool evening air before turning around. “I’ll try to find sleep now. I suggest you do as well, Ittoheiso Sarukazaki.”

  The man stood tight and saluted with a smile. “Yes, Sir.” With that he turned away and disappeared in the darkness.

  Aritomo paused a moment longer before following his own advice. If it was true what the man had told him – and that something was in the works there was no doubt –, he would need all his energy tomorrow in order to make the necessary preparations.

  And to endure the slimy anticipation of his commander.

  If he liked it or not, now was time to endure some privacy.

  2

  “Men, we have a great time ahead of us!”

  Kaigun Daii Tako Inugami teetered on tiptoe, and almost smiled at the crew in front of him. This was unlikely – Inugami never smiled –, but he radiated such a sunny enthusiasm that no one really wanted to believe.

  The thirty crew members under the command of the lieutenant had gathered in one of the classrooms. The fact that they were allowed to sit down right away spoke for the exceptional good humor of their superior. Normally, he gave a speech without worrying about the well-being of his men. Inugami himself liked to stand and endure, a passion that was not shared by everyone.

  “I received the news a few days ago that the maiden voyage of our new boat will receive the utmost attention. I’m not talking about the Admiralty here – although of course they are very interested in the results –, but I mean the very highest attention.” Inugami leaned forward and lowered his voice to a devotional volume. “His Imperial Highness, Prince Isamu, will accompany us on our journey.”

  Silence descended across the room. Inugami apparently enjoyed the awesome horror sparked by his news. Aritomo felt contradictory feelings. Of course, to be visited by the second son of the Tenno, to be able to enjoy his presence more than with a fleeting glimpse, that was more than an honor, it was an event of which they would all tell their grandchildren and grandgrandchildren. Aritomo was filled with deep reverence for the imperial family, and he was delighted to attend the military parade for the inauguration of the current Tenno two years ago. Isamu was born shortly after Hirohito, the crown prince and heir to the throne, and his mother was an imperial concubine, just as Tenno Taisho himself was the son of a concubine. There was nothing honorific about that, and their wives had quickly recognized these sons as legitimate members of the family. Isamu was thirteen years old and enthusiastic about anything to do with ships. As he knew, unlike his brother, he didn’t visit the Gakushuin School, where the nobility’s offspring was commonly educated, but had been enrolled at one of the preparatory cadet schools, to be able to embark on the career of an officer. One never saw the young man in public in any other attire than in the uniform of a cadet, and no one doubted that he would once become an important military leader.

  Besides, he was considered reserved and reclusive, almost shy, always in the shadow of his older brother, only a few months his senior, who would most likely follow on the throne. Some said he was jealous, but that was just rumors. But the descriptions of the young man as very calm and withdrawn, rather slow and deliberate, persisted so much that Aritomo was ready to give them at least some attention.

  He cleared his throat.

  “But Lieutenant, is that wise? Such an illustrious person on the maiden voyage of a new submarine? Is he not putting himself in unnecessary danger?”

  Inugami gave Aritomo a dismissive look before settling for an answer.

  “Maiden voyage or not, we’ve checked the boat extensively already. It works flawlessly, as the tests have proven. The young prince has made an explicit request, and it should be our highest aspiration to fulfill it. A few hours aboard our new and big boat can’t be a big risk.”

  Aritomo bowed his head. “I understand. Will the Imperial Highness come to us alone or with company?”

  “No, of course not alone,” Inugami replied in a tone that clearly expressed how stupid he considered at the question. “His personal tutor will accompany him, as well as two bodyguards. We will not travel far. It won’t be a problem to accommodate four additional men for the duration of the journey.”

  “Of course not,” Aritomo confirmed, saluting.

  “I want the boat to be cleaned thoroughly today, so thoroughly that there’s nothing left to clean.” Inugami turned to everyone. “I expect the very best effort! I will make a very, very strict inspection tomorrow morning, before the highest guest visits us! Everything must be absolutely flawless! If I recognize sloppiness, this will be severely punished! And I expect absolutely perfect behavior and one-hundred per cent discipline on board! No one fails in anything, everyone works with focus and diligence! Second Lieutenant Hara, you oversee all of this. Report to me regularly. Punish them if there are omissions. I set the highest standards!”

  Certainly, there was no doubt about that, Aritomo thought to himself but otherwise only stood stock-still, making the servile impression his superior expected of him.

  The briefing was somewhat lengthy, as in addition to the expiration of the maiden voyage – it should take a total of about two hours, including about an hour under water – Inugami’s repeated admonishments to be aware of the particular situation and appropriate behavior took a lot of time. Even a deaf soldier with low intellectual abilities would have understood it by now and the crew of the boat really wasn’t made up of fools. When the grueling session was over and Inugami left Aritomo, the very attentive observer could see relief in the faces of the men. The captain had no eye for it, because he said goodbye with an urgent appointment in mind. Aritomo had no doubt that he had much to disc
uss with the leadership of the base to prepare the arrival of the highest visit in full, leaving nothing to chance. On the other hand, it left him with the exhausting work that was now required – the re-examination of all equipment aboard the submarine and the detailed and very, very thorough cleaning. This was an activity no one liked, and so the mood among the men was not half as euphoric as Inugami surely expected them all to be.

  But actually, that didn’t matter.

  Whatever the circumstances, Aritomo loved to be on the boat.

  When he saw it lying in the water in front of the wharf, dragged out of the workshop for presentation, his heart pounced. The mighty body of the gray-black boat was impressive. It was a British design, the so-called E-Class. The British government had just recently given Japan the license to build this vehicle – more or less unofficially. With a length of around 54 meters, it carried eight torpedo-tubes. Under water, it reached a maximum speed of nearly ten knots with its electric motors – something they would, officially, try on maiden voyage. It could, the British said, dive up to 30 meters deep, and that was something they hadn’t done in the testing rides yet. Aritomo was sure that it could go a few meters deeper. He was eager to test the limits of the boat, though he certainly wouldn’t be allowed to do so with the Prince on board.

  With a total of 31 crew members, the boat was so extensively manned that, unlike the older and much smaller units, it had earned itself the presence of two officers. There were four NCOs, mostly with specializations like the experienced Sarukazaki. Thus, 25 ordinary crewmen remained. On board this boat, there would be no fresh recruits, only sailors who already were experienced. For experiments with inexperienced crewmen, this first of its kind was much too valuable. They were veterans, as far as the young submarine fleet of the Empire had any. Aritomo had had plenty of opportunity to familiarize himself with the men. They were all disciplined experts, men with great personal courage and the level of sacrifice necessary to face the dangers of traveling beneath the surface of the water in a tight metal shell. Howsoever the maiden voyage would go, the crew would do anything to make it successful, whether with a Prince as a guest or not.

  Moored with bolts in front of the tower stood the second weapon of the boat next to the torpedoes, a twelve-pounder. For this cannon, they had four trained gunners on board, and everyone had at least one extensive training session with it. That was just one of the key innovations in comparison with the old boats, which had relied exclusively on their torpedoes. It was these and other design changes that were to remain hidden from Japan’s enemies for the time being, and that had led to not station this new boat in the Kure fleet base, but rather here in Yokosuka. Once the boat’s existence was officially admitted, it would be transferred to Kure to lay the foundations for the second submarine flotilla, which would make the old Holland boats, including their successors improved by Kawasaki, obsolete.

  But before that, there were more mundane tasks, especially now, and the most important thing was to scrub and polish the No. 8 boat, so that it shone like silverware despite its dark gray color. The Prince shouldn’t have any reason to complain, in this Aritomo was quite in agreement with his commander.

  When the men started the work, Second Lieutenant Hara was not shy, while he supervised the joint effort, to pick up a rag himself.

  It wouldn’t be lack of effort from his side, he thought, if anything was found to be amiss during inspection.

  Certainly not from his side.

  3

  There was no music and no large parade.

  Prince or not, not too many people were supposed to know what a great new submarine the Japanese navy now possessed. So they kept the occasion somewhat under wraps, as far as that was possible with the attendance of a member of the imperial court. A column of four cars had pulled up, and next to the crew of the boat, a company of honor stood rigidly, fully dressed and thus in stark contrast to the submarine’s men, as they wore uniforms, although clean, appropriate to the mission at hand.

  Inugami had inspected the boat in the late evening, and for once had been satisfied. Despite intense scrutiny, he had noticed nothing negative, which he had acknowledged with rare praise. Everyone had noted this with relief, because Aritomo could testify that they had really made an effort.

  Inugami had told them that the group of passengers would be extended by one more person. An engineer from Kawasaki would participate in the maiden voyage, officially to be available for explanations, unofficially, in order to gain additional expertise in case of problems.

  That was logical and understandable, even a welcome development, as the First Officer secretly thought, despite the increasingly cramped conditions on board.

  Problems could always occur. Aritomo remembered, like all his comrades, the fate of Boat No. 6, which wasn’t able to surface when it stranded in depth of only ten meters due to a technical failure in a dock. The old Holland boats had provided no device by which the crew could have left their prison in submerged condition. So the men had stayed in their posts until they suffocated, only a few yards from the shore. Only the next day had it been possible to lift the boat and recover the corpses of those heroes.

  The boat was now a memorial. It reminded of the dangers of this new technology.

  Aritomo’s gaze wandered over the hull of boat No. 8. The new design made it possible, as far as the depth allowed, for the men to leave the boat when it was beyond salvation and the surface wasn’t too far away. So hopefully they would never share the fate of the deceased.

  Nevertheless, the man from Kawasaki came along. He had been, it was said, involved in the construction of this boat from start to finish, and knew it even better than the good Sarukazaki, who had dealt with every nook very intensely. Aritomo didn’t want to admit it, but the fact that the engineer was on board was already reassuring. And the new boat was so much bigger than the old Holland units. They would certainly be able to manage for the short trip that was planned. Orders were shouted. The honorary company presented the rifles. The submariners stood upright on the spotless hull of their boat, only Aritomo and Inugami had positioned themselves in front of the gangway over which the Prince would step.

  When he left the car, suddenly there was an awe that seized all men like a paralysis. A scion of the divine Tenno was and remained something very special, and nobody could escape the charisma of the Japanese imperial house. The young man – the boy actually – looked perfect in his cadet uniform, which fitted like a glove. His illustrious father’s face was recognizable on his own features, if one dared to look at it long enough. His cheeks were a bit roundish, but his gaze was as majestic and penetrating as one would expect. His companions came as announced: an elderly gentleman who had to be the tutor, two wiry soldiers clad in a plain black uniform who were undoubtedly the bodyguards – armed with a pistol and a sword, a rifle on their back, as Aritomo registered, and then a man in civilian clothes, not much older than Inugami, carrying a large black briefcase. The engineer from Kawasaki.

  Aritomo’s eyes widened.

  A gaijin.

  The officer controlled himself. Naturally. He could have anticipated that. The boat was built based on plans of British manufacturers. There was a long tradition of cooperation between Britain and Japan, especially in the development of naval forces. And British engineers often ran around in the big yards, all under contract from the Japanese government, to help develop or transfer new technology. So it was logical, even predictable, that with this new piece of technology, the pinnacle of British boatbuilding, an engineer from distant Europe would see to it.

  Aritomo scolded himself for his first, disapproving reaction.

  Without the British – and other friendly European powers – the imperial fleet in its present form wouldn’t exist. That might seem like a blemish, but it was also a fact. The engineer from the British Empire was a help, not a threat. He had to keep that in mind. The man was here, because the Admiralty thought it necess
ary.

  Aritomo Hara wouldn’t question that decision.

  He took a deep breath. They were all complete. The big moment was imminent.

  The Prince positioned himself as was expected of him but seemed strangely inconspicuous, almost shy. Instead of saying something by himself, his teacher took the floor. Aritomo only half listened to the speech. The old man greeted the soldiers and thanked them. He pointed out that the Prince was aware of the conditions aboard the boat and that careless touch or other afflictions wouldn’t be construed as offensive or unruly behavior. He expressed his hope that the maiden voyage would be free of problems and praised the soldiers for their service. A little speech that should serve as general reassurance. Aritomo was astonished to find that, in spite of his superficial attention, it was effective. He felt a bit more relaxed and could recognize subtle signs of relief among his men. Everyone had been afraid of making a nasty mistake unintentionally, fatal in the immediate vicinity of such an exalted person. The visitor was obviously aware of this fear and had tried to do something about it.

  Aritomo frowned involuntarily.

  Why did a cadet, who lived and learned at a cadet school from morning to evening, actually need a private teacher?

  He looked at the young Prince, who stood beside his mentor, his face uninvolved, neither approving nor rejecting, but listening just as stoically as the tight-shouldered soldiers. For a moment, however, he looked up, moving his head slightly and glancing at the men’s line, stopping briefly at the eyes of Aritomo, highlighted by his position at the quayside and his officer’s uniform. Their eyes didn’t meet for a long time, but for the officer, that moment was rather unpleasant – and not because of a sudden reverence or some of the fear the teacher was trying to dispel.

  But because he had the impression that this look of the young prince had been so terribly … empty.