Mackensen shrugged. He didn't understand weakness, and in his world, battle fatigue or shell shock qualified as weakness. He knew it occurred and was sympathetic to those it hit, but he had no idea why it happened.
"Beats me, sir. We both saw him yesterday and he was fine. A little nervous, maybe, but that's not unusual out here."
No, Paul sighed, not unusual at all in a land where everything, even the earth and the trees, was hostile. Shell shock was getting more and more common, although this was the first case he'd seen in the company. There would be more as there was only so much that the human psyche and soul could take.
With the exception of the few days in the rear, they'd been in combat almost every day since landing more than a month ago. The company had suffered more than seventy casualties and had received only a dozen fresh-faced young replacements, who'd been unprepared for the horrors confronting them. As a result, a high percentage of the innocent and clean-uniformed replacements had themselves gone down. What saddened Paul the most was that few knew who the dead and wounded replacements were. No one wanted to make friends with someone who was likely to die. They were stuck with the people they'd begun with in the company, but they didn't have to open their hearts and souls to anyone else. Why compound problems with the burden of grief when someone was lost.
The stretcher-bearers came and got Marcelli strapped down and carried away. For a moment, the young lieutenant had opened his eyes, and Paul had been struck by the total blankness behind them. Wherever Marcelli's mind was, it wasn't in this world. As he disappeared down the hill, Paul wished him peace, although he feared that Marcelli would become like one of those World War I veterans he'd once seen at a government hospital. They'd lived there for decades, utterly unaware and comprehending nothing. He'd been twelve at the time, and the scene had given him nightmares.
Paul shuddered and wondered when he would break. Then he wondered if his mind hadn't already gone. Perhaps this whole thing was just a nightmare? Maybe all he had to do was close his eyes and it would all go away? Maybe he could will himself home with his head cradled between Deb's breasts while she kissed his forehead and told him everything was okay.
Yeah, sure, and all he had to do was click his heels and he'd be in Kansas with Dorothy and Toto.
Mackensen was looking at him funny. Had he been babbling out loud? "Any orders, sir?"
"Yeah," said Paul grimly. "Let's go kill some fucking Japs and get this over with."
CHAPTER 59
OKINAWA
OSS agent Johnson didn't like working alone after all the time spent with Peters. The two men had established a rapport that was almost the same as two brains working in tandem, or perhaps being married, as some of the other OSS personnel teased. Teamwork was especially important because the puzzle he was working on wouldn't cooperate and divulge its solution. Thus, he was tickled when his partner in crime, Peters, walked through the door of their hut and hung his wet coat on a hook. Peters had caught the flu and had been on sick call for a couple of days. He still looked like shit, but Johnson had missed him.
Johnson looked down at the piece of paper whose meaning had been eluding him. "Got a very cryptic message from Nomura that I don't understand. Instead of using the emergency code, he's using a message within a message, only I don't know what it is. It's gotta be obvious, but not to me right now."
Peters knew what he meant. Sometimes messages were like crossword puzzles. Where one person might be stymied, a second would see the solution immediately. Johnson handed him the paper and Peters read the elusive message verbatim: "Sound of tall construction machinery adjacent. Cooperation expected from chief operator in moving it from the premises."
"What the hell?" Peters said.
Johnson laughed. "Now I don't feel so bad. It's been driving me nuts since it came in a few hours ago."
Peters thought hard. What did the phrase tall construction machinery really mean? Intuitively, he knew those words were the key to the solution. They also knew that it must have been extremely important for Joe to have sent the information in such a manner. Yet it was still not important enough for Nomura to have used the emergency code. He was still saving that.
"Quick, list all the types tall construction machinery you can think of," Peters ordered.
"Derrick, crane, steam shovel, hoist, windlass? Hell, I don't know. There's probably others I can't think of."
Something clicked in Peters's mind. An involuntary shiver went down his spine. He was afraid of the way his thoughts were proceeding. "Would voice be a synonym for sound?"
"Sure, are you onto something?"
"Yeah. Or maybe I am. Substitute voice for sound and crane for tall construction machinery and you have 'voice of the crane is adjacent.' "
Johnson's jaw dropped. "Voice of the Crane is one of Hirohito's titles. Jesus, is Nomura telling us that he is in direct contact with the emperor?"
Peters nodded. "It's hard to believe, but I think he is. And if I'm right on that count, he's also telling us that Hirohito wants to get out of wherever he is and we're expected to help."
"Hoo, boy," Johnson whistled. "This is way too big for us to handle. We better bring some brass on board with this. Do we tell Washington?"
"No," Peters said reluctantly, "For the time being, I think we'd better keep this right here on Okinawa. I don't want this secret to leave this island just yet. Besides, if our assessment is full of crap, I don't want that news off Okinawa either."
***
Peters and JOHNSON stood at attention as Lt. Gen. Matthew Ridgway entered the small conference room. Both agents were dressed in army uniforms, but without any indications of rank. Ridgway's crisp, strong-jawed appearance reinforced the impression of a can-do type of leader. He looked younger than his fifty years and had only recently transferred in from the European theater, where, as a major general, he had commanded the XVIII Airborne Corps, which had included the 82nd and 101st Airborne divisions in the Battle of the Bulge, and the earlier and ill-fated Operation Market Garden. Ridgway's third star was only a few months old. He held no specific command; instead, he functioned as a troubleshooter for Gen. Omar Bradley. His presence was taken by Johnson and Peters as a good omen.
Ridgway took a seat and directed the others to do likewise. "Where's Hirohito and just why do you think we can snatch him away from his own people?" he snapped.
Peters answered, "He's being held by Anami's people in northern Kyushu. I don't know exactly where and our agent declined to give specifics. It's far too risky for him to divulge that he has that knowledge as we are fairly certain the Japs are picking up a lot of what he's sending and decoding it by now."
Ridgway grunted. "And you really believe your man is in contact with him?"
The general had their brief written report, but wanted to hear their answers verbally. Their fear that it would be laughed away was already dissipating. They had hoped to see either Bradley or Nimitz, but this conference with Ridgway meant that at least someone at the top thought it was worth pursuing.
"The message from Nomura is necessarily cryptic," Peters continued, "but we strongly believe that is the gist of it. Our agent has located Hirohito, who is likely a prisoner, and the emperor wants out of his captors' hands so he can bring peace."
"Why?"
It was Johnson's turn. "Intelligence analysis says the emperor was never that strong an advocate for war against America and was more than ready to surrender after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The subsequent overthrow of the Japanese government by Anami and his cohorts had nothing to do with Hirohito except to put him in personal jeopardy."
Ridgway shook his head. It was almost too incredible to believe. "And we're supposed to accept that this Nomura character of yours has landed on Japan, wandered around for months, somehow become Hirohito's best friend, and, as a result, the emperor will let us take him off Kyushu and out to an American warship? You know a few people on Bradley's and Nimitz's staffs think you guys are either drunk or hallucinating? Worse, the
re's the serious possibility that you've misread the message, or that the whole thing is a trap to kill anyone who tries to liberate Hirohito. For all we know, this Nomura character has either been captured and tortured or he's become a turncoat."
Johnson persisted, "General, Mr. Nomura has proven himself very resourceful. We do not believe he has been captured or is sending messages under any duress. There were key words to use and ways of phrasing things that would have tipped us off if that was the case. No, I believe he is dealing with Hirohito and that Hirohito wants to get somewhere so he can really and finally end this war. What we need is your approval and assistance in getting them out."
Ridgway cupped his chin thoughtfully. "I'm curious, gentlemen, just how had you planned on extracting Nomura in the first place when the time was right?"
"By submarine, sir," Peters answered. Inwardly, he exulted. Ridgway was still listening to them. He hadn't laughed them out of the office. "We were going to get him out the same way he got in. Only when the boat that landed him was sunk, we didn't think the navy would let us have another one."
"So you essentially wrote him off after that."
"Yes, sir. To be brutally frank, we wrote him off even before that," Johnson added with candor. "We thought he'd last maybe a week or so and really never expected to have to pull him off under any circumstances. We gave him some plans, but they were more like placebos to make him feel good. We never expected him to do this well or last all this time. We really thought he'd have been caught or killed a long time ago. What he's done for us has been nothing short of incredible."
"So I've heard." Ridgway had read the reports from Nomura and what was now a small but efficient cadre of other Japanese-American OSS agents operating on Honshu. When the book about these activities was written, he'd decided, it would be a helluva bestseller.
Ridgway took a deep breath and made a decision. "All right, we'll do it. First off, we need to insert some people in there to do some real operational planning. How do we get that message to him without tipping off Jap eavesdroppers?"
Peters handed Ridgway a typed sheet of paper. "This is part of his placebo, only we referred to it as a menu. It's a list of possible extraction locations, dates, and an equivalent alphanumeric code. All we have to do is tell him to designate the best time and place from his copy of the list, and you can send in what I presume will be an advance party."
"Very good." Ridgway grinned. God, if he could pull this off, he would go down in the history books as the general who ended the most miserable war in American history and saved many thousands of American lives. So too would this Nomura character, who must have a real set of balls to be doing what he was doing. Ridgway had long since decided he'd like to meet Nomura. Bradley and Nimitz had said he'd have to wait in line.
Ridgway chuckled. "Admiral Nimitz told Bradley that there was a new era dawning regarding cooperation between the army and the navy. I have a few thoughts on how to help out your Mr. Nomura and test the good admiral's sincerity at the same time. Gentlemen," he said, grinning, "I think the next few days are going to be very, very interesting."
CHAPTER 60
KYUSHU, CAMP 7
Emperor Hirohito moved his rook, pausing before removing his hand. Once he let go of the piece, the move would stand. Until then, it was tentative and reversible. Finally he let go and smiled. "I believe you are in check, Captain Nomura."
Nomura sagged. Damn, he was getting so close to winning. "Indeed I am, Your Majesty."
"A shame. For a while there I thought you were really improving, but then you made a couple of moves that disproved my theory. Unless, of course, your mind is not on your game."
Nomura smiled. "You are correct, sir. Many things are distracting me. With regrets, sir, it is truly difficult to concentrate."
"I understand, Captain. Chess in the midst of a war for survival must seem like a trivial enterprise. Now then, what solutions do you propose to my dilemma?"
Nomura took a deep breath. This was the moment he'd been both anticipating and dreading. To divulge anything would be to brand himself as either a traitor or a spy. If he had misunderstood what Hirohito wanted, or if Hirohito had changed his mind, he would place himself in mortal danger simply by opening his mouth. All or nothing, he decided.
"Sir. Arrangements that I would not wish to comment on are being made to free you. When that time occurs, you will be able to make any announcement you wish regarding your opposition to the war. Hopefully, the result will be the honorable surrender of Japan."
"Colonel Sakei and his soldiers will not surrender me to the opposition without a struggle."
"I know."
Hirohito looked saddened. He fully understood that men would die in the effort to free him. The blame was Anami's, and not his own. Anami, the man he had once thought of as a friend, had caused his imprisonment and continued the war, causing the deaths of so many tens of thousands. So what if a few more died? In a macabre way, it would be an investment, and the profit reaped would be the continuation of Japan. He accepted that.
"Captain, when I am, ah, freed from here, it cannot be to another prison cell, not even a highly gilded one."
"I understand." Nomura hoped the people in Washington understood that as well.
"Do you? Wherever I wind up, it must be as the emperor of Japan, the spiritual and constitutional leader of a sovereign nation that wishes an honorable peace with the United States. Any attempt to use me or to show me off as a trophy will backfire and result in my removal from the throne by the warlords. This could even occur in absentia."
Nomura nodded his understanding. He was almost too surprised to speak. Was the emperor signaling that he understood that the Americans would take him, and that he would not be rescued by another group of Japanese? Nomura did not think he had given any hint ofthat.
"Captain, would you do me a favor?"
"Certainly, Majesty."
"Please remove your tunic and shirt."
Confused, Nomura stood and did as requested.
"It is as I thought," Hirohito said. "You are an American."
"What?"
"Don't deny it, Captain. Look at your vaccination. You were vaccinated on the arm. Japanese are vaccinated on the hip."
Nomura's mind whirled. Should he try to deny it and say he had received his shots while in the United States or something like that? After all, he had already told Hirohito that he'd traveled widely. But if the emperor believed he was an American and voiced his opinion to Sakei, then Nomura was doomed. Who would take his word against that of an emperor, even an imprisoned one?
"Well?" the emperor asked. "Do you admit it?"
Nomura bowed his head. "Yes."
"When did you plan to tell me?"
"I had no idea, Your Majesty. Maybe not until the last minute, sir, when it would be too late to do anything about it."
Hirohito looked pained. "I suspected that would be the case. I understand your logic and I accept it. I have no idea how you will accomplish this and do not wish to know. You are an incredibly brave and resourceful man, Captain. You have fooled Colonel Sakei, who, however, sees what he wishes to see. Put on your clothing before someone comes in, and we shall play another game. It is well that we do something while we talk."
Nomura again did as requested. "How did you suspect, sir?"
"A number of small things, nothing significant taken individually, but collectively they become relevant. Most of the people I deal with are members of the extended royal family or the military hierarchy, and I am used to the manner in which they defer to me. You, however, portrayed yourself as an ordinary officer without Imperial connections. You were properly subservient, except at those times when your wish to win at chess overpowered your discretion. No ordinary Japanese would have behaved like you did. At first I put it down to my own ignorance of ordinary Japanese, but then I more closely watched the behavior of the others in Sakei's detachment. Prisoner or no, they think of me as a god, and your eyes tell me that you think ot
herwise.
"Then, on realizing that the so-called spy was still on the loose, I began to put two and two together. I also thought it unlikely that a true kempei officer would be so easily suborned. Tell me, did you kill the man whose uniform you wear?"
"He was dead already. A traffic accident."
"Amazing. In the midst of a war we still have traffic accidents."
"Sir, you said Sakei sees what he wishes. Are you confident ofthat?"
Hirohito pushed a few pieces around the board and Nomura did likewise. "Yes, Captain. Like his leader, Anami, he is blinded from the truth. You wear the uniform of a Japanese officer and say you are his ally. Therefore, he believes you. It is almost inconceivable to him that an officer could betray his nation. Continue acting as you have and keep telling him that Japan is winning, and the poor deluded man will think you are a staunch ally."
Hirohito sighed deeply and for a moment Nomura thought he was in pain. "When I became emperor in 1926, I named my reign showa, which means 'enlightened peace.' I never thought it would come to this. This war must be concluded."
Joe Nomura bowed in deepest respect. "It will end, sir."
"Captain," Hirohito said sternly, "I meant what I said about not being treated as a prisoner. If my people perceive that I am in shackles or held against my will, they will disown me, and all my efforts will come to naught. You must make your superiors understand that."
"I will, sir." Nomura had no idea if he could accomplish that. He only hoped that his superiors would figure it out for themselves.
"One other thing, Captain."
"Sir?"
Hirohito smiled briefly. "You gave in far too easily. I have no idea how or where the ordinary Japanese people are vaccinated."
CHAPTER 61
As he stepped out into the cold and damp December air, Truman waved to the onlookers and began his morning walk. The streets of Washington were busy with vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Dressed in suit, overcoat, and snap-brim hat, Truman made it an almost daily ritual that delighted spectators almost as much as it tickled him.
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