The question surprised the young general. "Hell yes."
"Good. Now the way to do it is to keep from surprising me. You will not, repeat not, use any nuclear weapons in the future without my express permission. Had you told me of your plan for bombing the straits, I would have heard you out, asked some of the questions I've raised today, and then very likely approved. Thus armed I would not have felt like a fool when Truman asked me about the bombing. Whatever authority you feel you might have had from Truman, Marshall, MacArthur, or God Almighty no longer exists. Until and if the air corps becomes a separate service, it is still part of the army, and the army reports to me. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly." LeMay looked surprised and chastened.
"Do you have any plans for A-bombs pending now?"
"None whatsoever, although we are still looking for anything fat and juicy like the straits."
"Good." Bradley relaxed. The situation was under control. LeMay might be overly aggressive, but he was ambitious and ethical and would follow direct and succinct orders. He would not jeopardize a chance at that third star. One question nagged at Bradley. "Tell me, what would Tibbets have done if he could not have found the target in the mist? He could not have returned to Tinian."
LeMay was horrified at the thought. "Hell no! Nobody's gonna try and land a bomber with an atom bomb on it, or any other kind of bomb for that matter, at a base of mine if I can help it. No, sir, he was to drop it in the ocean if he had to. If it was already armed, then it would go off and he would kill a lot of fishes but that's all. Better he kills fishes than the damn thing explodes when he lands at Tinian and we lose a perfectly good base and a helluva lot of good guys."
Made sense, Bradley thought, although the very idea of discarding one of their precious atomic bombs was jarring after all the effort that had gone into developing them. "What about the navy?" Bradley teased. "Any concern that you might cause damage to them if you'd had to ditch the bomb?"
LeMay grinned evilly. "Screw the navy. Nah, sir, they would have been warned."
Bradley laughed and rose. "General LeMay, please go back to killing Japs, and for God's sake, smoke that darn cigar."
CHAPTER 51
THE PACIFIC, SOUTH OF TANEGA-SHIMA ISLAND
The ocean floor is far from flat. Its undulating hills and valleys of varying sizes and depths generally reflect the land it surrounds. Japan, a hilly and mountainous collection of islands, is encircled by a submerged continuation of herself. Thus, a submarine lying in hiding on the ocean floor on the Japanese continental shelf was rarely a stable and level platform.
The I-58 was down at the bow and tilted slightly to starboard as she lay silently on the bottom. This made any normal function such as standing, walking, or sitting awkward at best. One couldn't even lie down properly under the circumstances, and this made sleeping difficult. Exhaustion on the sub was a common result.
But, hidden as they were in a submerged crevasse, they were safe from detection. Sonar probes couldn't find them. Commander Hashimoto again reviewed his successes and his failures. On the positive side of the ledger were the sinkings of two freighters and an American warship that might have been a light cruiser or a destroyer. Which it was he didn't know. It had attacked him so quickly while he was lining up another freighter that his only concern was to sink it quickly and get away. Identifying it was irrelevant.
On the negative side, three fairly undistinguished ships were all he had to show for a combat cruise in which he had hoped for fat pickings once he had penetrated the American destroyer screen. Despite his best efforts, it hadn't worked out that way. Even though hundreds of American transports and scores of carriers were in the area, the vastness of the North Pacific worked to hide them. Then, when he did find a group of potential targets, the wolfish and snarling destroyers were always present. He had attacked on occasion, but the counterattacks by the destroyers had forced him to hide, and the men of the I-58 did not press the attacks to their conclusions.
At least he had gotten rid of the kaiten. The last remaining suicide-torpedo pilot had ridden his chariot to glory and death the previous day. Whether he had hit the freighter they'd targeted, Hashimoto didn't know. He and the crew of the I-58 rather doubted it as there had been no explosions rumbling in the distant ocean. With profound sadness, he imagined the kaiten spiraling downward in the sea's darkness to oblivion. What a waste. He hoped the eager young fool had died quickly.
One other time, the I-58 had been forced to make an emergency descent when a pair of American destroyers had angrily charged on his periscope. He thought they'd been directed to him by an airplane that had seen the I-58's shape underneath the waves. At least his unloved executive officer had finally served a purpose, if not in life then in death. The man had been killed in an earlier depth charge attack when an explosion hurled him against a pipe, cracking his skull. Afterward, his body had been kept in cold storage. When the depth charges got too close for comfort, the cadaver was stuffed into a torpedo tube and released upward with some debris. It had convinced the destroyers that the I-58 had been killed and they had departed.
Hashimoto checked his position. He was fifty miles south of the island of Tanega-Shima, which itself was south of Kyushu. Tanega-Shima was not a safe haven as it had been occupied by the American 158th Regimental Combat Team since early November, several days before the main assault on Kyushu.
Hashimoto had intended to stay closer to Kyushu, but American destroyers and a lack of good targets had caused him to stalk his prey ever farther away from Japan proper.
Enough, he decided. They had rested here a sufficient length of time. "Periscope depth," he ordered, and the boat slowly rose toward the surface. As it left the mud of the undersea ravine, the I-58 stabilized and Hashimoto was able to stand and walk properly.
"Anything?" he asked the men whose ears and listening devices strained for the sound of the turning screws of a hostile ship.
Neither he nor the others detected any ominous noises. This did not necessarily mean they were safe. A destroyer could be lying silently on the surface and waiting for him to betray himself, or an American search plane with radar might detect his periscope as it lifted above the waves and drop bombs on his head. As a precaution, his ascent was slow and he would raise his periscope with great caution.
Finally, Hashimoto ordered up periscope and began a visual search. He swiveled in a full three-sixty and saw no sign of danger, or targets for that matter. Dammit, he cursed. Where were all the American ships?
Then he blinked. A smudge was on the horizon. Yes, the light was good and there was definitely something there, actually just below the horizon. He calculated distance and speed and concluded that it was a large ship. Perhaps it was the carrier that had been denied him. Incredibly, the ship seemed to be alone. Could the Americans be repeating the mistake that had cost them the Indianapolis? He found that hard to believe, but the evidence of his eyes was too compelling.
Then the grim truth hit him as he reworked his calculations. The distant ship was moving slightly away from him and at a speed in excess of thirty knots. The I-58 could do nine knots submerged and just over twenty on the surface. He would never catch her, and he wasn't even close to being in range for one of the dozen torpedoes he had remaining. While the torpedoes could speed toward an enemy at forty-five knots, their range was only two and a half miles. He wished for the larger torpedo that once flew from Japan's now sunken surface ships. Their range was more than twelve miles. Even with that, he conceded grudgingly, the attempt would have been futile as the target was more than twelve miles out.
"Ah," he said suddenly, and the others looked at him. "The target is turning," he announced with a tight smile, and there were gasps of surprise.
The target was zigzagging and one of her movements was bringing her closer to the I-58. But how close? he wondered. Would he be able to fire his torpedoes at her, or would she just tantalize him with her presence and then race away?
Hashimoto ordered down
periscope and directed the sub's full submerged speed toward where he thought the target was headed. And then he waited. If fate was with him, the target ship would be drawn close. If not, then he would swallow his anger and seek another.
Half an hour later, he again looked through the periscope. The target was markedly closer and still moving at great speed. Perhaps that was why she was alone. She could move more swiftly than any escorts. Better, she truly was a great ship. The dazzle camouflage painting on her hull and upper works broke up her design so he could not determine what she was, although she lacked the boxy shape of a carrier. She was, however, simply the largest ship he had ever seen.
Then it dawned on him. The massive target drawing closer to him was an ocean liner, probably the Queen Mary or the Queen Elizabeth. The leviathans had sped across the Atlantic Ocean with passengers in peacetime and now carried soldiers, but he had never before seen one. He knew they'd made numerous solo Atlantic crossings without incident because they had almost twice the speed of a submarine and were much faster than most surface warships. Traveling in a convoy had been deemed much more of a danger than cruising alone. Yes, that's what it must be, and she was coming toward his position like a greyhound. Hashimoto plotted a new course to intercept her, one that presumed she would not change again. He feared that she would turn away before she came into range, but he had to make the effort. He peered through the periscope until his head ached but he couldn't stop looking. More minutes crawled by, and now the great ship was almost within range of the I-58's arsenal. The target was plotted and all four bow tubes were ready.
No! Hashimoto slapped at the periscope in fury. She was starting her turn. He wanted to scream. But then he smiled. She was so big that turning quickly was physically impossible. Soon her drift had carried her well within range, and she had presented him with virtually her whole length to shoot at. She had come close enough that, with the periscope telescope at full zoom, he could see dots that were people on her deck.
"Fire tubes one through four," he ordered. His voice was incredibly calm even though he wanted to exult aloud with the ecstasy of success. The Japanese torpedoes were superb and would do their work.
The submarine rocked in the water as four torpedoes, each with almost nine hundred pounds of high explosives, surged outward and underwater at speeds many automobiles couldn't reach on land.
Hashimoto's eyes stayed glued to the scene. As the seconds counted off, he saw an antiaircraft gun on the ship fire tracers toward him. Either the periscope or the torpedo tracks had been sighted, but it was too late for the liner to do anything but continue her inexorable starboard turn.
The first torpedo struck near the bow on the port side and was followed in quick succession by three more as explosions took in nearly the entire length of the giant ship. Her continued forward motion caused the ocean to surge through the gaping holes in the target's hull. The liner was literally driving herself into the sea.
The forward tubes were reloaded with incredible haste. "Fire one and two."
Again the submarine rocked as nearly a ton of death raced toward the stricken target. These torpedoes too exploded on the port side, and with the accumulation of wounds, the ship began to roll sickeningly on her side.
Then Hashimoto knew horror. The ship's decks were black with humanity. Thousands of men were on the target, moving and swirling like people in a crowded Tokyo street, and they were all trying to escape the dying ocean queen at once. The ship continued to roll on her side with astonishing swiftness. It was like watching a child's toy in a pond. Nothing that mighty should die so quickly, but she did.
Minutes later she had turned completely on her side. Scores of men stood helpless on her exposed hull as it bobbed and wallowed in the water. She shook them off her slippery hull like a dog sheds itself of water. Then her bow slid into the water, and her stern, with her propellers still spinning in obedience to her last instructions, followed until there was only gurgling white water where the great liner had been. On board the I-58, they could hear the creaking and groaning sound of the giant metal ship breaking up in its descent to the bottom. Hashimoto thought he could hear the death screams of those trapped belowdecks for her final ride.
A stunned Hashimoto looked on the sea where the ship had been. The handful of lifeboats and rafts were jammed with humanity. The sea was covered with dark dots that each represented the head of a desperate swimmer. The water wasn't frigid, but the men in the water wouldn't last long. He briefly contemplated surfacing and trying to rescue some of them, or even giving them his own rafts, but thought better of it. There were just too many and the danger was too great. There had been more than enough time for the ship to have gotten off a distress call, hadn't there? Help for the dead queen had to be on the way, wasn't it?
But what if there wasn't? The Americans hadn't missed his earlier kill, the Indianapolis, for several days after the sinking. What if this was a repeat ofthat incident? This was war and they were the foe. The I-5 8 had hurt the enemy of Japan and hurt him badly. Hashimoto still had a handful of torpedoes left and more targets to seek out before trying to sneak back to Japan.
But the sight of so many men thrown into the ocean sickened Hashimoto. He stopped looking through the periscope and pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the tube.
"Down periscope," he ordered, and gave a course that would take them away from this place of death. He grieved for the men he'd just killed. Hashimoto would continue the war, but he was now sick of the killing. The feeling had been growing in his soul for some time. He would report his success to Tokyo, but would take no joy in it. The joy he had felt at finding such a target had disappeared.
Then Hashimoto knew what he would do. The Americans were looking and listening for Japanese subs. He would radio his report in such a way that they would know exactly where to look for the survivors of the dead queen. Perhaps that way he could live with himself in a future world.
CHAPTER 52
President Harry Truman buried his face in his hands and would have wept if it would have done any good. The other man in the office, Gen. George C. Marshall, bit his lower lip and waited for the tirade he expected and in some way felt he deserved. But it didn't come.
"Why?" Truman asked softly. "Why on earth was the Queen Elizabeth sailing alone to Japan? Why weren't there any escorts with her?"
Marshall lowered his head sadly. Admiral Leahy or King ought to have been answering Truman, but Leahy had emotionally collapsed as a result of the sinking, as well as being in disfavor with Truman because of his increasingly pacifist views, while King was trying to coordinate the continuing but increasingly futile search efforts for survivors.
"Both the Queen Elizabeth and the Queen Mary have been leased to us by Britain's Cunard Line and neither has ever sailed with an escort. They are so fast that most warships simply couldn't keep up with them, and they certainly were able to outrace any submarine. They've made numerous trips across the Atlantic to England and made them without any U-boat attacks, and with even greater numbers of GIs on board. The U-boats were always a much greater menace to shipping than any submarines the Japanese sent out." Marshall didn't add that both he and King thought that virtually all the Jap submarines had been sunk.
"So what happened this time? Did we just run out of luck?"
"It appears that the Queen Elizabeth was guilty of nothing more than stumbling on a waiting Jap I-boat." He added that there would be no further solitary sailings. The fully laden Queen Mary had been recalled to San Francisco. "After all is said and done, bad luck and a mechanical problem with the ship's sonar may be the answer."
"And, after all is said and done," Truman said, unconsciously mimicking Marshall, "how many young Americans are dead?"
Marshall started to answer, but his voice broke with pent-up emotion. He took a deep breath and tried again. "There were just over fourteen thousand unassigned army replacements on the ship. While rescue efforts are still continuing, we have picked up only a little
more than two thousand of them, and a lot of them are in pretty bad shape. Admirals Nimitz and King hold out little hope that we will find more than a few more men alive. Rescue ships have plucked several hundred bodies from the waters and will continue that aspect of the recovery effort."
Truman winced. "And if it wasn't for the broadcast from the Jap sub, we wouldn't have yet missed her, would we?"
The killer of the Queen Elizabeth had been identified through his broadcast report as Comdr. Mochitsura Hashimoto and the sub as the I-58. Hashimoto and the I-58 had destroyed the Indianapolis only a few months earlier in circumstances that were chillingly similar.
"General, is this Hashimoto a war criminal?" Truman asked. "Can we promise the American public the satisfaction of a hanging in return for this disaster?"
Marshall again wished that a naval officer was present to respond. "The Queen Elizabeth was a legitimate target and he was under no compulsion to warn her, or do anything else that might have endangered himself. His actions were similar to what many of our own submariners are doing in their actions against Japanese shipping. In fact, Hashimoto may have saved a lot of lives by broadcasting his triumph in the clear, without any encoding. He gave the precise location of the sinking, which was highly unusual. Since the Queen Elizabeth's radio was knocked out within minutes of being hit, that transmission was our only real knowledge of where to begin looking."
Truman had wondered about that as well. "Do you think he did that on purpose to help us get those boys out of the water, or was he trying to show off and rub it in?"
"I don't know. Although rather unlikely, it is just possible that he was trying to save lives by the time he sent his message. If the war ever ends, we might have a chance to ask him."
Truman stood and looked out the window behind his desk. "I'm curious. England had any number of ports where a liner full of soldiers could disembark troops, while we don't yet hold a single good-sized Japanese port. Just where on earth was the Queen Elizabeth going to dock and unload all those troops?"
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