by Lars Teeney
As they both got up to clear their trays, the emergency klaxon sounded and a general quarters announcement was made. The sailors in the mess immediately scrambled in every direction in an effort to get to their actions stations. The mess cleared in a relatively short period of time leaving empty trays and beverage glasses everywhere. After a short preparatory period, the Iowa’s guns flung salvos once more toward shore at another Japanese strong point. The systematic destruction of Guam continued.
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The Musashi battleship and her escorts had weathered the intense storm that had impeded their progress back to the Japanese home islands. They had made it; land was in sight. Captain Inoguchi had congratulated his officers and crew for accomplishing the journey home, for what could be the last time. Inoguchi was also glad that the fleet was heading for Shimizu naval base at Suruga Bay. This was practically where Captain Inoguchi was from. His native city of Fujinomiya was only thirty miles inland from the Bay, which meant that he would have enough shore leave time to see his wife and family. Inoguchi had saw fit to send a message ahead to his wife to meet him at the naval base where she would be received and looked after until his arrival. The crew gave Inoguchi the news that the Shimizu naval base pier was within visual range, so he gave the order to steam into port. The helmsman skillfully maneuvered the giant battleship in alongside the pier, and personnel secured massive mooring lines onto the bollards of the pier. Once the Musashi was secure a gangplank was moved into position and fastened to the side of the weather deck, allowing the officers and crew to disembark the ship. Captain Inoguchi ordered his crew to perform final checks and then he gave them clearance for shore leave. The morale of his crew immediately skyrocketed.
Captain Inoguchi and his entourage exited the bridge, descended the gangplank and traveled down the length of the pier toward the structures of the Shimizu naval base. There were signs around the area that damage had been sustained from American air-raids. Bomb craters pockmarked the pavement around the buildings, and a burnt-out shell of a building stood silent, blackened with scorch marks. Inoguchi was taken aback with the knowledge that the Americans had carried out airstrikes so close to his home with impunity. He had heard the news of the firebombing campaigns that had been executed by the American air force. Entire cities had gone up in apocalyptic firestorms as the paper and timber cities of Japan provided easy fuel for incendiary bombs. Thousands of civilians had been burnt alive and many more had been left homeless.
Captain Inoguchi was scheduled to meet with Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita, today. He was to receive a briefing on a new operational plan that was developed by the Admiralty in the wake of the defeat at the Mariana Islands. Inoguchi was skeptical about any new plan that did not involve a functional carrier-based air force. The High Command clearly hadn’t replaced it considering the sheer amount of airstrikes against the Home Islands. It made Inoguchi angry that they were not considering surrender. But, once again, Inoguchi found his thoughts drifting and he needed to focus on the tasks at hand. Inoguchi entered the office block of the main building of the base. He reported to an aide of Vice Admiral Kurita, and the man rushed off to inform the Vice Admiral of Captain Inoguchi’s arrival. Captain Inoguchi took a seat in the receiving area and stared blankly ahead of himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from troubling subjects. After several moments the aide returned, bowed and gestured for Inoguchi to follow him back to Kurita’s office.
The door was opened for Inoguchi and he stepped into the Vice Admiral’s office. Admiral Kurita stood with his back toward the entrance. It appeared he was looking over a ceremonial katana displayed on the mantle above a stone fireplace. The office was a strange marriage of east and west. It was filled with Japanese cultural objects but featured antique, wooden and metal, colonial period furniture.
“Vice Admiral Kurita, sir. I have come at your behest!” Captain Inoguchi announced his presence and bowed even though Kurita did not witness it. Then he stood at attention, awaiting dismissal.
“Captain Inoguchi, I am glad that you made the trip safely back to Japan. I confess that I find it bittersweet to see home one last time,” Vice Admiral Kurita said, turning around to face Inoguchi. Kurita was a stern-faced man, with thin hair that was worn close-cropped to the head. He seemed to have not been sleeping well lately, due to the dark circles under his eyes. He looked to have the troubles of the world expressed on his face. He wore a plain, black uniform, and no matching cap.
“Vice Admiral Kurita, I don’t believe that this will be your last time in our great country.” Inoguchi tried to console the man. Vice Admiral Kurita gestured for Inoguchi to sit down, and he took the cue.
“Did you know that Vice-Admiral Ozawa tried to tenure his resignation to the High Command in Okinawa?” Kurita asked Inoguchi.
“Yes, I was aware he was planning to do so, in an attempt to take responsibility for the outcome of the battle at the Mariana Islands. He had told me that much,” Inoguchi admitted.
“Right, his resignation was not accepted. The Imperial Japanese Navy is running out of qualified admirals, and so the High Command had deemed it necessary to retain them all.” Kurita collapsed into the swivel chair behind his massive, oaken desk.
“Sir, so what shall be his duty?” Inoguchi inquired.
“That is the wrong question to ask. The question is what is all of our duties? You see, a new operation has been devised. That is why I asked you here today. Myself, Admiral Ozawa, and you, Inoguchi—we are the key players in this last ditch effort,” Kurita paused, as the doubt burned brightly on his face. He lit a cigarette and he inhaled and exhaled rapidly.
“Sir, you are aware that we have virtually no experienced pilots left. Our carrier-based aircraft are meager at this point. Perhaps it is time for the High Command to consider surrender,” Inoguchi boldly suggested the course to Kurita.
“That is the humor in our current plight. Inoguchi, if I understand you had advocated the idea of surrender to your superiors as early as last year, correct?” Kurita asked him. Inoguchi was at a loss, as he didn’t know if he was being baited or not.
“Yes sir, Admiral. That is the case,” Inoguchi confirmed.
“I am aware of this. So to did I advocate for surrender, as recent as last week. Except my suggestion was met with outright hostility. They threatened to charge me with treason and have me shot. Now, my hands are tied. There is no other option, except defection. I admit I cannot stomach that thought,” Kurita lamented.
“I see. The High Command expects us to fight to the death.” Inoguchi had suspected this much.
“The Admiralty and High Command have determined that once the Americans have completed their conquest of Guam, their next objective will be an invasion of the Philippines. This has been decreed as the place where what is left of our navy will make a stand—to the last,” Kurita explained. He stared up at a portrait of Emperor Hirohito on the wall and blew cigarette smoke toward the portrait.
“Somehow, I am not surprised. The Americans suffered an embarrassing defeat in the Philippines. MacArthur is like a god to them now; he will want vengeance. I suppose we shall be the sacrifice that will be offered to the conquering hero,” Inoguchi made the observation.
“Yes, unless a ‘Divine Wind’ kicks up and saves Japan from the horde of invaders.” Inoguchi thought Kurita was making an off-hand joke, but he was serious.
“Nice jest. That would be most miraculous. I have prayed for something like that to appear myself,” Inoguchi confessed, but he had secretly prayed to a Western God.
“Captain, then it appears your prayers have been answered. The Admiralty and the High Command have devised a new “special attack” core: The Kamikaze. It calls for enlisting a cadre of pilots that will make a one-way attack on enemy carriers, using their plane, along with a 250-kilogram bomb as the weapon; a human guided bomb. A number of these pilots are already in training and will take part in the upcoming battle, where ever in the Philippines the Americans strike.” Kurita
introduced the new plan to Inoguchi in a somewhat pessimistic tone.
“Surely you must be joking? Has the entire High Command gone mad?” Inoguchi was shocked and outraged at the announcement.
“I am afraid the High Command have adopted a “fight to the last” policy for every Japanese subject of the Emperor, even civilians,” Kurita explained.
“They would have our entire civilization die rather than to submit to a foreign foe, all for their honor. When it comes down to it the High Command will not die for what they believe. They’ll be secure in a bunker under Tokyo while you and I give our lives!” Inoguchi was furious. He shook with anger in his chair. Kurita offered up a cigarette to him. Inoguchi accepted and Kurita lit the end for him.
“I agree. There are basically two options available to us. One, we do our duty and die in the defense of our country and the High Command, or two, we use the forces that we have under our control to defect or topple our government. We have the capability.” Kurita laid it out in simple terms.
“These are all terrible choices, but the worst one to make would be to sully our honor and betray Japan itself. I will not be party to simply handing Japan over to foreigners. If we surrender, it has to be with honor.” Inoguchi still possessed a sense of Bushido, that his ancestors were proud to weild.
“I also agree. Then it’s settled. We will carry out this ill-conceived battle-plan of desperation, and hope for a “Divine Wind” to sweep away the enemy.” Kurita sucked down the last of his cigarette and dashed it in an ashtray. Inoguchi also finished his.
“Captain, I suggest you go visit your home, and your ancestors one last time. We do not have much time before the task force assembles and sets sail May the Emperor watch over us!” Kurita saluted the Emperor’s portrait in a mocking tone. Inoguchi bowed and took his leave from the Admiral’s office.
Captain Inoguchi stepped out from the main office block into the daylight. One of his aides approached and told him that his wife and son awaited him in the private officer’s barracks. Inoguchi told the man to lead the way. They approached an unglamorous brick building. It stood among the craters of near misses from previous bombing raids. He walked through the threshold of the building and into the officer‘s apartments. The furnishings were modest: of a Japanese cultural decor, with sparse furniture and a matted floor. The walls were a combination of paper screen and dark wood timber framing. There was a table in the middle of the room: low to the ground, where his wife and son sat eating a mid-day meal of rice and tuna sashimi. His wife looked up and her expression turned from blankness to that of overwhelming joy. His son looked up and caught sight of his father out of one uncovered eye.
“Father!” He ran over and jumped into Inoguchi’s arms. Inoguchi spun his son around.
“Tomo, my boy! You’ve grown so much. Don’t be in such a hurry!” Inoguchi took notice of the bandage wrapped around the boy’s head.
“Toshihira, dear! You’ve come back! I was so worried.” She raced over and joined the embrace. He gave her a sustained kiss. She buried her head in his shoulder and couldn’t help herself from quietly sobbing.
“Mariko, do not cry! I am here now. Let’s leave this miserable place and return to Fujinomiya. Let us gaze upon the mountain and rest in our home,” Inoguchi said, with a joyous smile on his face. Mariko looked up at him with sadness in her eyes, then, she began to sob again.
“There’s nothing to return to,” she said, looking down at their son. Inoguchi surmised that his son’s injury occurred during an American air raid.
“The house?” Inoguchi inquired.
“Yes, the whole town: burnt. We barely got out. Toshihira, when will it all end?” She looked up at him with heartbreak in her eyes. Inoguchi could not bring it upon himself to tell her that he was about to embark on a suicide mission; his family needed some semblance of hope. He stood embracing his family for a few more moments. He needed to retain as much of this moment for fuel to go ahead with the operation that would spell his doom.
⍟ ⍟ ⍟
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
Blaze-Scorch was busy in the Hermes’ hospital ward. She had been tending to quite a few cases of violent seasickness among personnel. There had also been a case where a crewmember aboard a cargo ship slipped on the deck and had cut his arm badly to the point of needing stitches. He had been squeamish when she treated him, flinching while she administered the stitches. He squealed a bit when she gave him a tetanus shot. Overall it was busy, but not overwhelming which is how she preferred it. Especially since she anticipated being swamped as they approached the Panama Strait. She thought the Regime would be crazy to leave it undefended. So, by that logic, she predicted the need for her services.
Blaze sorted some medical supplies, putting them away in the appropriate cabinets. She sterilized other used tools in a sanitizing solution, then, laid them out to dry. It had been weeks since the fleet had made a port call and she was hoping for a well-deserved break from ships when they reached the Panama Strait. It had been planned by the Apostates and the Captains of vessels to stop there and resupply; unless met with a hostile force. Most of the Apostates had been complaining of the taste of the food within the mess halls of the ships, so much so that they had recently cut out meat rations all together and were relying on vegetables to feed the crews. Blaze thought about how good it would be to eat a fresh steak or have some bacon off the griddle. The thoughts of meat overwhelmed her for a moment.
After she dealt patients in the medical ward, Blaze prepared to leave. Ravine-Gulch opened the hatch to the ward and looked around the space. Blaze waved to him and he nodded when he caught sight of her.
“Hey, how goes the medical duties? You look burnt out,” Ravine was unintentionally blunt.
“Well thanks, Ravine, you look like shit yourself!” she stung back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. Just making an observation.” Ravine tried to salvage the introduction.
“Yes, I know. We’ve been cooped-up on these ships for so long. I’ve just had my work to keep me busy. It’d be nice to have a break, you know?” Blaze confessed.
“Yeah, believe me, there are a million other places I would rather be right now, especially being this close to the tropics,” Ravine agreed. He stepped further into the ward and sat on an empty bed.
“Are you planning to stay? I was just getting ready to leave.” Blaze was slightly puzzled.
“Listen, I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.” Ravine gave her a serious look.
“Okay, I don’t really have anywhere to be. But, do you want to get some food?” Blaze suggested. She stepped over to the bed he sat on.
“Well, I think it would be better if we spoke here, privately,” Ravine stated.
“Fair enough. Is this about your ‘Database’ addiction?” Blaze asked nonchalantly.
“No! I’m not addicted! I mean—” Ravine was interrupted.
“Whoa! Easy, I can help you. I can treat addiction.” Blaze tried to calm him, and she rest her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her.
“I wish I could explain this to you without your mind already made up as to what it is I am doing.” Ravine looked her in the eye hoping she would see that he was telling the truth.
“What else is this then? No one ever took this stuff if they didn’t get pleasure and a high out of it.” Blaze was very confused.
“You know, yes, it’s true: I used to be a ‘Basehead’. That was before I was ‘born again’. Now, it is true I am using it again, but for a very valid reason. I have to use it: our success may actually depend on it!” Ravine tried to explain it to her without revealing everything.
“Bullshit. Ravine, do you take me as a fool? You’d say anything wouldn’t you? Why don’t you just leave if you don’t want my help.” She got up to walk out. He reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. She turned back to him.
“What the fuck?” Blaze was furious.
“Listen to me! Yes, I need your help, but no
t your judgment! I didn’t want this; I didn’t go out to buy this shit! It was a package from Graham himself—he told me that I had to take it because this strain of ‘Database’ held the key to prevailing against the Church and Regime.” Ravine desperately tried to convince her.
“Do you know how crazy this sounds? I mean Graham is the only reason why any of us is here right now. None of us wanted this. And yet here we are, still at Graham’s mercy. Why the hell would he go through so much trouble to send a message, that could not be told to all the Apostates?” Blaze made a good point, and Ravine sounded crazy even to himself.
“I don’t know! I can’t answer that until I take this ‘Database’, so I can reach the end of the damned visions,” Ravine said with frustration in his voice.
“Say you were telling the truth: what then? I’m supposed to sit idly by and watch you waste away doing this shit?” she asked.
“No, not sit idly by. I would ask you to monitor me medically while I do it. Save me if I overdose or go into shock or something.” Ravine tried to reason with her. He stared intently into her eyes hoping for compliance.
“God damn it, Ravine. I hate seeing you like this. Then, you want me to sit over you and watch you fall further?” She put her hand on his. He could see her tear up slightly.
“Yes, and there’s no one else I’d rather have watch over me when I do this than you,” he admitted to her, “Look I’ll let you prepare before I throw this on you. Just ping me when you are ready to do this. Thank you, Blaze.” He brushed one hand over her left cheek, then walked away through the hatch. She said nothing in return. Blaze decided that she should find food first and foremost, and then she’d worry about her nihilistic friend.
