They are afraid of us, Hashimoto realized. They are terrified. They outnumber us and outgun us, yet we are to them the stuff of nightmares.
Hashimoto picked out a man who was obviously an officer, perhaps even the captain. Hashimoto's English was extremely limited, but he felt compelled to say something.
Bowing with as much dignity as he could manage under the circumstances, he said, "Surrender. We surrender. We fight no more."
CHAPTER 65
Secretary of State Jim Byrnes and Undersecretary Joseph Grew joined General Marshall and President Truman in the Oval Office. The meeting had been called at the request of Marshall, who immediately told them that Magic and other sources confirmed that the Japanese were planning to use gas and biological weapons.
The news visibly upset Byrnes. "Not poison gas. Not at this stage of the game."
Truman was deeply concerned, but took the news calmly. "General, I gather you can verify this."
"Sir, they've had a gas and biological warfare program based in Manchuria for a number of years."
"Go on," Truman ordered.
"Gentlemen," Marshall began, "one Lt. Gen. Shiro Ishii was in charge of what the Japs referred to as Unit 731, and it was located near Harbin, Manchuria. I believe it was situated there well before the war started, so it's had time to grow and develop with relative secrecy. The unit was in charge of virtually all of Japan's research into poison gas and germ warfare. Ishii is rumored to have authorized the use of gas and germs on Chinese villages a few years ago as well as performed medical experiments on prisoners of war."
Byrnes glared. "Sadistic bastards."
"Agreed," said Marshall. "They may have attempted germ warfare against the British in Burma, and it is possible that they attempted to spread plague germs among U.S. troops on Saipan. Mercifully, the sub bringing it in was sunk, but some evidence did drift ashore."
Truman shook his head. "How successful would you gauge Japan's program to be, General?"
"Very successful. The key would be the fact that Ishii rose in rank from major to lieutenant general in only a few years. Without success, he would not have been promoted. Ishii and some of his staff are back in Japan. This means that the Russians let them pass through. They doubtless brought additional quantities of their inventory."
Truman seethed. "And now they can send waves of poison gas against our boys."
"Not exactly," Marshall answered. "I do not believe they have huge supplies of gas, but if they do use gas, it will more likely be in the form of artillery shells or bombs attached to kamikaze planes. That would be far more accurate and nowhere as dangerous to the senders as the old method was."
In the First World War, gas had been released from containers and blown by the wind across to the enemy's trenches. One real problem was the likelihood of the wind shifting, thus sending the clouds of gas back to the side that had released it. Using gas in artillery shells and small bombs effectively eliminated that problem.
Marshall continued, "We've had a number of requests from our own side to use gas against dug-in Japanese positions. A solidly built Jap bunker can withstand a flamethrower, but not gas, which will permeate through whatever flame-retarding barriers they have constructed. On my own initiative, I have sent more than five thousand gas artillery shells and chemical bombs to Okinawa. They are in place and can be transported for use on Kyushu at any time."
Truman started to glare at Marshall, but realized that the man had once again planned far ahead. "If the Japs use those shells, even if the number is limited, can our boys protect themselves? Do they have gas masks?"
Marshall laughed harshly. "While all of our boys were issued masks at some time in the past, I doubt that one GI in ten still has them. They are normally the first thing the soldiers throw away as excess weight to carry. It would take a while to resupply, and I'm afraid the danger still wouldn't be taken all that seriously. Also, the gases and chemicals now in everyone's arsenals are far more lethal than the ones used in the last war. In some cases, the merest touch of poison on bare skin can kill, which means gas masks would be useless. We would have to dress our men in rubber suits to protect them, and that is simply not feasible."
"We don't need more casualties," Truman said softly. "Particularly not from gas."
The American forces on Kyushu were going into a final defensive mode prior to the attack on Honshu. Casualties to date were well over the two hundred thousand mark and were still climbing, and civilian protests were mounting. Truman had canceled his daily walks. He couldn't bear all the heckling and shouts from the hundreds of people who surrounded the White House.
"Sir," Marshall said, "the real danger may come not from gas but from germ warfare. As I said, they've used it in China and tried to use it on Saipan. They are capable of sending infected suicide soldiers into our lines to spread anthrax, plague, botulism, and cholera. The Chinese believe the Japanese spread diseases by dropping crude bombs with infected fleas and other items like infected feathers on their cities. Based on our radio intercepts, that is an entirely likely scenario."
"Hideous," whispered Truman.
"It gets worse," Marshall said. "We now believe they will try to hit the West Coast of the United States with germ warfare. They have the capability, and in their current state of desperation, we believe they will make the attempt."
Truman was incredulous. "How? Their navy's sunk and their planes can't reach this far. Do they intend to send germs by balloon like they did the firebombs that were supposed to burn our forests down?"
"No, sir, but not quite all their warships have been sunk. We believe they could use at least one of their remaining large submarines for that purpose. These carry small floatplanes, which could be launched just off California, Oregon, or Washington, and the germs could be dropped from very small bombs or sprayed on a city much like a crop duster sprays a crop. We have no idea how much damage it could cause. Our medical facilities are much better than those in China, where many thousands may have died from germ attacks. Maybe only a few will die, maybe none."
"Panic," Truman said angrily. "If it happens, there'll be a panic and everyone in California will head east in terror-stricken waves. It's insane. It would unleash torrents of hatred that would take an eternity to cool down. Anami's people are fools!"
Truman turned and glared at Grew and Byrnes. "Here's what I want you two gentlemen to do. You will use your neutral-country contacts to tell that son of a bitch Anami that any use of gas or germ warfare will be repaid a hundredfold with gas attacks of our own. Tell him we will use every nuclear bomb we now have and can build against anything that moves in Japan, civilian or military, and that includes Tokyo and Osaka. We will, if necessary, pull our boys from Kyushu and then make sure that everything that lives in Japan is killed."
Truman took a deep breath to control his anger. "You will have them tell Anami that we also have the ability to use chemicals that will destroy their rice crops, and that will ensure that anyone who survives the initial bombs and gas attacks starves to death."
Grew was shocked at Truman's torrent of anger. One point puzzled him. "We have the ability to destroy their food crops?"
Marshall answered. "Not yet, but they don't have to know it. Experiments with plant-killing chemicals are progressing, and it may be a year before they are ready, but it will happen. Very soon we will be able to defoliate Japan. We have been performing a number of experiments at Camp Detrick, Maryland, and the only remaining concern is not wanting to kill civilians along with the crops."
"The hell with the civilians," Truman snapped. "If the Japs use gas or germs, then all restraints are off and everything in Japan is a target."
"The Japs will get the word," Byrnes said grimly.
"Good." Truman relaxed visibly as his fury dissipated. "And the navy will redouble its efforts to stop any germ-bearing sub. Now, General Marshall, I understand there is a bit of good news."
"Yes, sir, we have confirmed that the Jap sub that sank the Indianapolis
and the Queen Elizabeth has finally been hunted down and destroyed. The sub was the I-58, and her captain was among a handful of survivors who are now our prisoners."
"Hang the bastard," Byrnes snarled.
Truman managed a grin. "No, Jimmy, the American way is a trial first and then a hanging."
Marshall did not think it was amusing. "His defense will be that he was doing his duty. Both the Indianapolis and the Queen Elizabeth were legitimate military targets, and he will argue that he was doing nothing other than what our own subs did to Jap ships. I'm afraid we may be considering him a monster only because he was so successful. He is also proving quite useful. Like most of the Japanese we've captured, they aren't the slightest bit reluctant about answering every question we put to them. It's ironic, but once they actually do fall into our hands, a lot of them tell us everything they know, almost without our asking. He may even be able to help us stop their plague sub."
Truman accepted the rebuff in silence. Marshall was right. Dammit, Marshall was always right. Hanging the captain of the I-58 was immaterial. He had to keep focused on the task at hand, the ending of the war. He did not want it complicated by some fool launching a gas or germ attack on the United States.
CHAPTER 66
KYUSHU, THE NORTH SHORE
In the distance, the deep, dark clouds merged with the flat sea, giving the impression of a continuous oneness that was almost frightening in its totality. If he didn't know better, Dennis Chambers thought he could easily confuse the view of sky and sea with that of a definition of eternity.
Bringing himself back to reality, he shitted his weight so that the small rock jabbing his buttock wasn't quite so aggravating. Then he pointed the flashlight out into the void and repeated the signal: one long flash and two short ones. It was the Morse code symbol for the letter!). D, he'd decided, stood for "dark," for the night, or "dumb," for him sitting here and waiting. That it also could've stood for "dead" he ignored.
There would be no response from the sea. The signal was only meant to be seen, not responded to. It would be too easy for someone else onshore to pick up a signal from the sea. Of course, there was always the possibility that a Jap patrol craft would pick up his flashes and make their own inquiries, but that was a chance that Dennis had to take.
Dennis froze. There was the hint of movement on the water. Dark shapes moved closer. They were so quiet and so well hidden that he hadn't detected them until they were almost on top of him. He watched in fascination as the three rafts were beached and their occupants spilled out onto the rocky shore a few yards in front of him. Still silent, they lay prone and formed a skirmish line a few feet from the water's edge. Dennis signaled again, and one shape moved toward him. The man was dressed in black, had dark guck smeared across his face, and carried an automatic grease gun. It was an American, and the sight of the well-armed and deadly-looking newcomer sent chills down Dennis's spine.
"You Joe?" the man hissed.
"I'm Chambers." Nomura was discreetly in hiding, about a hundred yards behind Dennis.
The man leveled his gun at him. "I expected Joe."
"They told you there were two of us, didn't they?"
The man paused and stared at Dennis, fearing a trap. Then he relaxed slightly. Chambers obviously wasn't a Jap, and Chambers was the name of Joe's companion. "What's the capital of North Dakota?"
This was incredible, Dennis thought. A geography test. "Buddy, I have absolutely no fucking idea."
The man lowered his weapon and grinned. "I don't either. Maybe they don't have one. I'm Ensign Billy Swain and this is my team. Now, where the hell is Joe?"
"About a hundred yards behind me and watching us. What do you know about him?"
"Nothing. I was told it was best that I don't."
Nomura had thought it would be that way and Dennis responded, "Joe is Joe Nomura, a Japanese-American OSS agent who's now wearing the uniform of a Jap officer. He also has only one arm, which he lost fighting Nazis in Italy. He thought it would be prudent if I met you first and explained that fact so you wouldn't shoot him on sight and ask questions later."
"Makes sense." Swain passed the word that they would see a Jap and they were not to open fire. Dennis then gave the signal for Joe to emerge. "Jesus H. Christ," Swain exclaimed when he saw Nomura. "Damned good thing you didn't meet us. We'd have shot you and run like hell back to the sub. Now, let's get inland and get our gear hidden."
"Not so fast," Nomura said. "Is it clear who is in charge of this operation?"
Swain thought of making a smart-ass remark, but even in the gloom he saw the hard look in Nomura's eyes. "You are, sir."
"Good. The sub is still waiting for the rafts to return, isn't it?"
"Yes. While eight of my men remain here, the others take the rafts back where they can be taken back on board the sub and stowed. That way there's no chance that they'll wash onshore and be discovered."
A small touch, but a smart one, Joe thought. He gestured to Dennis. "He goes back with the rafts."
Swain blinked. "That wasn't in the plan."
"Plans change, Ensign."
"Indeed they do, sir. May I ask why?"
"Two reasons. First, Dennis is an undernourished and not very healthy airman, while all of you guys are trained killers who've been eating well and have all your strength. When this mission starts, I think Mr. Chambers would be a hindrance rather than a help. We've talked it over and he realizes that.
"There's a second reason," Joe continued. "There are some extremely important things about this operation that the top command has to know about, and they can't be trusted to radio. The message must be delivered in person. When your men return to the sub, the captain will be made to understand that he must rendezvous with a seaplane to get Captain Chambers to Okinawa as soon as possible."
"Understood," said Swain. The rafts were empty and ready to pull out with two paddlers each.
Dennis and Joe shook hands. Then Dennis got into one of the rafts and settled on his haunches. He sucked in his breath as he felt the craft bob in the water. It had just been freed from the shore of Japan. When he was shot down and imprisoned, even after escaping, he never really thought he'd leave the Land of the Rising Sun alive.
Dennis had argued with Joe about his leaving. At first he'd felt he was betraying the man who'd saved his life, but the logic of the decision quickly became obvious. Along with being an OSS agent, Joe was an infantry combat veteran and would be operating with skilled specialists, and Dennis would only be in the way. Besides, the need to deliver the message was real. It was imperative that Hirohito be handled correctly for the mission to succeed.
Dennis had exulted when he'd first seen fellow Americans, armed and ready, emerging from the sea. Now, as the land receded behind him, he felt a new wave of emotions that overwhelmed him. In a few minutes he would be safe on board an American ship. In a couple of days at most he would be on a military base. Maybe they would let him contact Barb and let her know he was okay.
The water in front of them seemed to boil slightly as the submarine rose from periscope depth. Seconds later, the raft bumped gently alongside her hull. As hands reached to pull Dennis to the safety of the deck and helped him down the conning tower, he hoped the wetness on his face would be seen as ocean spray and not the tears it really was.
CHAPTER 67
KYUSHU, NORTH OF MIYAKONOJO
Major Ruger and Paul Morrell stood to attention as Brigadier General Monck entered the battalion's command tent. "At ease, fellas, relax," Monck said. An easy grin split his face.
As a platoon leader, Paul had only met Monck on a couple of occasions and hadn't even talked to the man since becoming company commander.
He did know Monck's reputation as a firm but fair commander who didn't care much for the formalities of rank, particularly in these circumstances.
Major Ruger caught Paul's discomfort. "The lieutenant really doesn't think he did anything special. After all, he was primarily interested in saving his
worthless ass and not winning a medal."
Monck laughed. "Well, his ass isn't all that worthless." The general reached into a fatigue-jacket pocket and pulled out a small package. "Here. The powers that be have determined that your coolheadedness under fire deserves a Bronze Star. Congratulations, Lieutenant."
"I really don't think I should have this, sir," Paul said as Monck placed the box in his hand.
Monck looked at him coolly, but with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I'm not surprised you said that. A lot of people do when they see a medal. But the truth is, you do deserve it, and certainly more so than some of the politicians who get honors for being on the same continent as a battle."
"But why, sir? I just did my job."
"That's right, son. All you did was your job. But you didn't have to do your job, did you? You could have laid on the ground until somebody else did his own job and killed the sniper. Or you could have hid until it got dark and then you could have skulked away and let somebody else figure out how to get rid of the bastard, if he hadn't already fled the coop so he could do it again. By that time who knows how much damage even a half-starved little kid could have done. No, you did exactly what you were supposed to do, which is solve the problem, and that, young Lieutenant Morrell, is precisely why you are getting this medal. You did your job and you did it well."
Paul nodded and took the box. He put it in his own pocket. It would be examined later. "Then thank you, sir."
Monck shook Paul's hand. Paul was astonished at the strength of the grip. "Lieutenant, this may not seem like much now, but it means a lot to your men to know that people like me have confidence in people like you. A few years from now, maybe a lot of years from now, you'll take it out and show it to your kids. You'll be proud of it and they'll be proud of you."
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