1945 (36 page)

"And the straits bombing fit this description?"

"It did absolutely. Two divisions of infantry were out in the open and packed together like little yellow sardines. We bombed them and we killed all of them."

"What about civilian casualties? I was led to believe that Jap refugees crossed the other way from Kyushu to Honshu."

"Could've been some, but I doubt that. Our eavesdroppers said that the Jap army had grabbed everything that floated for this effort. There would have been damn few civilians, if any, out on the water that night. Besides, who cares? There isn't a target in the world that's one hundred percent military. Civilians have been getting in the way since man invented the club, and that's just too bad for them."

"What about our POWs?" Bradley asked. "Were any of them in the area as hostages?"

"Possibly, although probably not. This was a secret move on the part of the Japs so they wouldn't broadcast the fact that our boys were out there as hostages. It would give away their little scheme. And if any of our guys were killed by the bomb, then it was the fault of the Japs for putting them there instead of in proper camps. Sorry, but it wouldn't be the first time Americans were killed by our own bombs. You do know that a couple of dozen were killed at Nagasaki, don't you?"

Bradley concurred grimly. Japanese usage of Allied prisoners in military and industrial work was contrary to international law and had caused a number of tragic casualties. "General LeMay, are you aware that many of the world's countries are calling us butchers and barbarians for dropping yet another atomic bomb?"

LeMay laughed harshly. He started to take a cigar from his shirt pocket and then thought better of it. "General Bradley, that's bullshit and you know it. Hell, I've killed ten times as many Japs, civilian and military, with conventional weapons as I have with nukes. And don't let them snow you with that crap about radiation. As I see it, anything that kills Japs, whether today or next month or even the next century, is fine by me."

LeMay again grabbed for that elusive cigar and retreated. He was not certain what Bradley's reaction would be to his smoking it. "What the hell do those people want, General? Should we go back to crossbows? Nah, the more we kill, the sooner this war ends and the killing stops. Then we can get prepared for the next one against the Russians. The commies are going to be a helluva lot harder to fight than the Japs."

No argument there, Bradley thought. He too felt that the Russians were the real threat to a peaceful future. "General, don't you think it would have been appropriate to inform your commanding officer of your intentions to bomb the straits?"

"General Bradley, the opportunity came up quickly and we didn't think we'd be able to communicate with you and explain the situation in time. We know the Japs are trying to pick up our broadcasts, and we were afraid they'd realize we were up to something. We also thought you'd approve, even if after the fact."

Bradley leaned back in his chair and glared. "You're right about my approving it. I would have. It's the best possible use of a terrible weapon. But the rest of what you said is pure crap. You don't just throw on a nuclear mission just like that and take off in ten minutes. You've been listening to the Japs planning this thing from the beginning, at least days and perhaps weeks, and decided a long time ago that getting me, or whoever else might have replaced MacArthur, angry was a risk worth taking. You weren't going to take the chance of being turned down, were you?"

LeMay shrugged unconcernedly. "Guilty. I got a war to win and Japs to kill. Screw it, sir, it was a target handmade for an atomic bomb. Conventional bombing would have been worthless because of the bad weather. With an atomic bomb, the bombardier only needed to drop the damn thing in the general vicinity of the straits and accuracy wouldn't matter one damn bit. Colonel Tibbets commands the squadron that's dropped all the atomic bombs and he flew the plane himself, and they managed to drop it right on the bull's-eye. The dumb Japs didn't know that the mist hung only a couple of hundred feet above the water so the bombardier had some recognizable mountains to use as aiming points. We bagged ourselves two full divisions and one field marshal. Not a bad night's work if you ask me, although the scientists say that the mist actually held down deaths from the flash."

Damned if LeMay doesn't remind me of Patton, Bradley thought with some satisfaction. He and Patton had once been friends until it was necessary for Bradley to rein him in once too often. He would try to avoid that problem with the belligerent LeMay.

"General LeMay, do you want that third star?"

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."

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.