The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3)

by Charles S. Jackson

  “What do you say then, Anton Iosifovich?” Zhukov called back suddenly with a broad grin, casting those less pleasant memories from his mind and focussing on the task at hand. “With ‘General Frost’ at our side, shall we show these little bastards how a Russian fights in winter?”

  “Da, tovarishch…!” Gastilovich nodded eagerly, wasting no time in taking a flare gun from within his tank and loading it with a single flare. Holding it high above his head, he sent a single ball of sparkling yellow high into the sky, giving the appropriate signal for all units to prepare.

  “For the Rodina, tovarishch!” Zhukov nodded with a grin as he lifted the flaps of the ushanka from his ears and instead covered them with the pads of a radio headset. “You may have the honour…”

  With a final salute, he lowered himself inside his KBT-7 and secured the hatch as his driver stood ready and, right along the line in the bright moonlight, hundreds of tanks and thousands of trucks all gunned their engines simultaneously, most having been running for some time already to ensure they remained operable in the extreme cold. Five minutes later, six hundred artillery pieces opened up with their initial bombardment from several miles behind the main assault force, sending high-explosive howling through the frosty skies to rain down in terrible destruction against the unsuspecting men of the Japanese 6th Army.

  Red flares rose high into the night, and right along a forty mile front, six hundred T-34s began to rumble southward across the Manchurian border, each carrying a squad of infantry above their rear decks in desant, the men savouring the relative warmth radiating from the diesel engines beneath them. Behind that first line of assault, thousands of GAZ trucks fitted with snow chains and cross-country tyres bumped and trundled along behind, following in the tracks of their armoured predecessors.

  Royal Train Omeshi Ressha

  Tōkaidō Main Line, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan

  As luxurious as any in the world, the carriages were owned and maintained by the Japanese Government Railways and were only ever used for one purpose: the transportation of the Emperor and Empress Consort. Little more than a junior member of the House of Representative who happened to be vaguely related to the Lord Privy Seal via marriage, Miyagi Ryo had never before seen the inside of the Royal Train and had only heard tales of its grandeur and opulence. He now found that few of those stories had ever done it justice. He told himself that admiring the furniture was something for another time however, as he stared out through the windows at the curved, dark walls of the tunnel inside which the train was currently hidden.

  Opened in 1934, the Tanna Tunnel cut almost five miles through the mountain range of the Shizuoka Prefecture between Atami and Numazu. Sixty miles from Tokyo, its construction had done much to shorten the nine-hour transit time on the Tōkaidō Main Line between the capital and Kobe, in Honshū’s south-west. The Omeshi Ressha had been parked inside now for eight hours, and Miyagi had to admit that being stuck underground for so long had begun to play on his nerves.

  The carriage in which he stood was set up as a briefing room, separate from those intended to carry the Emperor and his Family, and its centre was predominantly taken up by a long, narrow table of finely-polished Japanese Elm. There were four other men present that morning, all aged between 55 and 60 years, and wore full ceremonial dress uniform in recognition of their proximity to the Emperor. Before each man lay a translated transcript of a radio speech made five hours earlier by Adolf Hitler.

  “Listen to this…!” General Umezu Yoshijirō growled angrily. “‘For a long time, the betrayal by Japan which took place was foreseeable… the result of failure… of those elements which have now caused this betrayal by concluding their planned theft and espionage…’ It is they who have betrayed us, I tell you!” He shouted, thumping a fist on the table top. “It is they who have used us so dishonourably while feeding us the scraps from their table!” Umezu’s command was that of C-in-C of the Kwangtung Army in Manchukuo; possibly – until just a few hours ago – the most prestigious posting in the entire Imperial Japanese Army. Like most of the men in that carriage, he’d been recalled form active service to fill the posts of those who’d died during the bombings of Kure and Hiroshima two weeks before. Umezu had returned to the Imperial General Headquarters to assume the position of Chief of Army General Staff.

  “‘…I completely left it to the Japanese government’s discretion either not to immediately enter this war against our enemies or to do so at a point when it felt suitable… At an appropriate time, documents will be submitted to the public that reveal the extent of Germany’s contribution to its ally in this fateful struggle…’…” Admiral Oikawa Koshirō muttered aloud, rubbing at his greying temples as he tried to make sense of what he was reading. A former Naval Minister and advisor to the Lord Privy Seal, he’d returned to his previous post as Minister for the Navy at Koiso’s personal request to replace the now-dead Shimada.

  “Lies…!” Umezu burst out again in disgust. “They’ve done nothing but seek to hamper and restrict the growth of our Empire since we first entered into this accursed alliance! Where was their assistance with jet engines and assault rifles five years ago? Where was all this nuclear technology then, when it might’ve made a difference? The problem was not that we ‘stole’ two of these atomic bombs: the real problem is that there was not two dozen more to use against these filthy degenerates that have dared to defile our sacred homeland with their weapons. They obliterate an entire city, kill half a million Japanese, and then insult us with terms of surrender? Let us see them make their demands when we have wiped New York, Washington and Los Angeles from the map… when we have destroyed ten million gaijin in return!”

  “And what will you use to wipe these cities from the map and shatter the will of our enemy, Yoshijirō-san?” Oikawa asked drily, no humour in his thin smile. “Perhaps I need remind you that we do not have twenty-four of these atom bombs,” he pointed out, frustration hiding in his tone. “We do not even have one more to use, and our only source of these weapons has now abandoned us! The British and the Americans have shown us what they are capable of, and they say that they will continue to destroy our cities if we do not accede to their demands.”

  “Who is to say that they have any more of these devices to use against us?” Minister of War, Anami Korechika snapped sharply, also slapping the table, this time with an open palm. “We know it took the Germans years to produce just three weapons, two of which were supplied to us. If these hell-spawned devices are so difficult to make, perhaps the Allies are bluffing for time: perhaps there are no more atomic bombs for them to drop on our homeland.”

  “You would be willing to risk losing a million civilians on that possibility, Korechika-san?” Yamamoto Isoroku, new Chief of Naval General Staff growled from across the table, not at all pleased with the man’s blasé manner. “You seem very comfortable playing Chō-han with innocent lives. If you are so confident that there are no more of these bombs, then let us stop cowering inside this tunnel in fear of our lives and instead all ride back to Tokyo as ‘conquering heroes’. Let us see how much rejoicing we received driving down the empty streets of our own capital as the people flee into the hills in terror.”

  “The disaster of Hiroshima has been managed…”Anami argued in return, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “The people know only what we tell them.”

  “Hee… masaka…?” Yamamoto shot back with cold sarcasm. “And this is why police all over the country have been calling for help from the military this week to control thousands streaming out of our cities in search of some imagined safety? Cities were destroyed, you fool! Do you think anything can stop people finding out that downtown Hiroshima is now a hundred square kilometres of ash and seared glass? Every night for a week, the same cursed, black bomber has been flying up and down the length of the Home Islands, thousands of feet higher than out fighters or our guns can reach. So far, they have only dropped propaganda – leaflets in common Japanese telling all about Hiroshima and Kure…
with photographs, damn them! And they do it with impunity!”

  “‘…These are not the honourable actions not of an ally, and I tell you that as your Führer, I consider them a personal insult…’” Oikawa continued to read, looking up occasionally from the page to gauge the reactions of his peers. “‘In fulfilment of my duties, I have ordered all those measures which could be taken in such a case to spare the German Reich a fate which Prime Minister Tōjō and his men not only inflicted on the Emperor and the Japanese people, but into which they also intended to plunge Germany…” Do you think he means it?” He continued, the words dripping with sarcasm.

  “Japanese warships impounded by the Kriegsmarine at Diego Suárez and at Cam Ranh Bay, with several sunk with great loss of life as their captains bravely refused to surrender,” Yamamoto responded, rubbing at his eyes as he dropped his own copy to the table, his frustration rising. “Japanese sailors and airmen interned… Merchant ships confiscated with their cargoes… yes, I think perhaps he does mean it! And now the Russians have seen their chance also to exact some vengeance and make good on some of their own territorial claims. Do you think Hitler imagines we do not know what those ‘measures’ are, as the Red Army so conveniently carries out exercises on our common border, and then invades the moment the Berlin pact is revoked and they are allowed a free hand in the east? With the Germans keeping them in check, we were guaranteed the safety of our northern flank in Manchukuo while we launched our own campaigns in Indochina and the Pacific. Now, we need to massively redeploy our forces just to halt this flood of Bolsheviks streaming into the Northern provinces – if we are able to do something about it before the damage is already done!”

  “You dare to question the abilities of my men?” Umezu snarled, getting in ahead of Anami by a micro-second. Both men were incredibly proud of their commands, and both also considered any criticism to be a personal attack.

  “It’s the Russians asking the questions right now, General,” Yamamoto replied with a mirthless smile, “and so far, I’ve not heard anything resembling a decent answer from either the 6th Army or the Kwantung. Twin thrusts from the Baikal in the north-west and from Vladivostok in the north-east, looking to cut off a huge section of Manchukuo from the rest of the country, and all this as they advance into South Sakhalin at the same time! The Combined Fleet is enroute to provide support as we speak, but aircraft alone can’t stop them, and – unfortunately – my battleships and cruisers can’t sail on land…” he paused for a moment to give impact to his next statement. “I had thought that that was what the army was for.”

  “My men are doing everything they can to stop the advance!” Anami hissed. “It takes time to reorganise and redeploy… it’s only been five hours!”

  “And in just five hours, the tanks coming south from the Baikal have taken Manzhouli, reached the Hulun Lake and wheeled left to threaten Jalainur,” Oikawa pointed out angrily. “We can all read the reports! From there, it is less than two hundred kilometres to Hailar and, beyond that, the western approaches to the Khingan Ranges.” The Admiral had been doing his homework, much to the displeasure of the two army officers present. “If the enemy negotiates those mountains, then between there and Harbin lies five hundred kilometres of wide open fields and plains just perfect for tanks and motorised infantry. In the south-east, the terrain is not so easy, but we cannot ignore this threat either, and they know it!”

  “We can stop them,” Anami argued doggedly, but his tone was sounding slightly plaintive now. “We will stop them and throw them back across the border!”

  “And can you do that and fight a successful war against the Americans and the British, even without the threat of atom bombs?” Yamamoto asked bluntly, voicing the next, painfully-obvious question. “Prince Konoye warned all of you about the danger of war against the United States! Oikawa-san warned you all last year, before he was forced to resign! I warned you all so clearly that taking a few possessions in the Pacific and South-East Asia wouldn’t be enough – that to be certain of victory, we would need to march into Washington and dictate our terms in the White House itself. At the time, I asked those of you who were so confident of victory if you were prepared to make the necessary sacrifices that came with such a war… and what did you do? Did the fanatics heed anything I had said? Of course not! Instead, they misquoted my own words to the world and incensed the Americans into thinking that the ‘Great’ Yamamoto himself had bragged about conquering the entire American continent! Well, here are the sacrifices we must now make!” He barked, that last sentence so loud that Miyagi and several of the others flinched noticeably

  “Sacrifices already made in the ashes of half a million innocent lives! What shall we do now? Already, reports show that our law enforcement agencies cannot control this panic, and in the middle of winter, where would they take these people even if they could control it? There is snow everywhere, and already there have been deaths from exposure, illness or starvation… disease will follow soon enough. There was barely enough food in the countryside for the farmers, let alone thousands more, and what is there is being trampled in the rush to escape. We desperately need more of everything from our colonies, and already, American submarines have inflicted significant losses on our merchant marine and forced us to slow our shipping and use convoys as a result. Time alone will tell if this measure will be sufficient.”

  “For what they are worth, the Allied terms are reasonable…” Oikawa observed softly, attempting a more reasoned approach as Miyagi moved over to one corner of the carriage, near the door leading to the next.

  “You would bow down to these subhuman degenerates?” Umezu countered, scandalised and incredulous. “Tōjō-san would have you shot for such defeatism!”

  “Tōjō-san is so many grams of ash, washed away into the Seto Naikai…!” The admiral snapped tartly in response. “They are not asking for unconditional surrender: only a ceasefire and a return to pre-war boundaries until a dialogue can be opened fully in the New Year!”

  “Such dishonour to allow them to dictate to us at all! How should we endure such loss of face?”

  “You would endure instead the shame of explaining to our own people, after the bombs come, why we did nothing to save them when we had the chance? That it was for honour that we let millions die… that it was for their benefit that we let them all burn…?”

  “It matters not what we think anyway, gentlemen,” Yamamoto pointed out quietly, leaning back in his chair and almost touching the carriage wall with the back of his head. “In the end, all that matters is what The Emperor decides. Whatever that may be, we must obey his wishes.”

  “He… I cannot believe he would accept this,” Anami muttered, almost to himself, but he caught the sidelong glance of suspicion Yamamoto cast in his direction and at the last minute added: “But of course, the Emperor must be obeyed in all things…”

  The door beside Miyagi opened in that moment, causing him to start slightly as Lord Privy Seal, Kido Kōichi entered slowly, followed by two other men also wearing ceremonial dress. Their expressions were as severe as the situation demanded, and all four officers rose from their seats and came to attention upon their entrance as a sign of respect. At fifty-three, Kido had held the ministerial posts of Education, and Health and Welfare in previous governments, prior to his appointment as Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal. As the one man with more direct access to The Emperor than any other living, he was highly-influential and held great power within the Diet.

  “Be seated, gentlemen… please…” He directed tiredly, waving a hand as they reluctantly took their places once more. With a soft sigh, he approached and took a seat of his own at the head of the table, the other two taking positions on either side, one walking with the aid of a cane.

  “I have come with news from The Emperor…” he advised unnecessarily, as the men at that table hung off his every word. “His Highness has requested that The Prince once again assume the position of Prime Minister, at least until such time as proper elections c
an be held at a later date. The Emperor wished me to entreat upon you all to accord him every respect and to assist him in any way possible during the difficult times ahead…”

  Prince Konoye Fumimaro inclined his head in a faint bow, acknowledging each man directly in return. Two years younger than Kido, whom he considered an old friend, Konoye had held the position of Prime Minister twice before; from 1937 to 1939, and then again from 1940 until he was replaced by Tōjō Hideki the following year, having resigned due to lack of support in the parliament for his anti-war stance. Born into the ancient Fujiwara Clan, his family lines could be traced back over thirteen hundred years.

  “I thank you all for your support and your assistance in this,” he advised solemnly, and it was only at that moment that some of the others realised his hands were shaking faintly as he clasped them tightly on the table top. “To further assist us, The Emperor has requested the appointment of Shigemitsu-san as Foreign Minister, effective immediately. He has already been appraised of the current military situation and of the true, terrible nature of what has happened at Hiroshima.”

  Fifty-five year old Shigemitsu Mamoru, former ambassador to both the USSR and the UK, had been an outspoken opponent of any war with the United States right from the outset, and had campaigned ceaselessly to prevent it in the preceding years. Too much of a thorn in Tōjō’s side to be tolerated, he had eventually been ‘banished’ to a dead-end position as ambassador to the Japanese-sponsored Reorganized National Government of China, a title which in real terms mean next to nothing in an occupied country run completely by his own nation’s military.