1945 (45 page)

As the men on the
Polish Pope
circled and watched, the stricken sub sank beneath the waves, breaking in half just before she slid from view. It occurred to Kutchinski that damned few men had been able to get off, and he wondered what was going on in that sinking ship as it descended to the bottom of the Pacific. He decided he didn't really want to know.

Comdr. Mochitsura Hashimoto vomited oily water and grasped for a piece of floating debris. The dying submarine I-58 had sent a torrent of matériel upward as she sank to the bottom, and much of it now floated near him. If he could stay afloat for a while, he might not yet die. That he was still alive in the first place hinted that he might not yet have been chosen to die this day.

He wiped his eyes and squinted. The oil and the salt from the water had blurred his vision. A life preserver bobbed a few feet in front of him and he struggled into it. Relieved of the need to use all his strength swimming, he looked about him. The I-58 was indeed gone, as if there had been a doubt. He hollered and a scattering of voices answered.

In a few minutes he had gathered up the survivors of the sinking. Counting himself, there were eight men. Eight men out of the entire crew. A couple were wounded, but would survive if he could get them out of the chill waters in a reasonable amount of time. He didn't think there were sharks this far north, but he quickly concluded that sharks were the least of their problems. The cold would get them in a few hours at most.

They fashioned a raft of sorts out of the remains of the sub and clambered on board. They had no food or water, but at least they were alive. They were the lucky ones.

Luck, however, could be good or bad. It had been good luck that the I-58 had evaded destruction for so long. They had used the last of their torpedoes and were attempting a passage back to Japan when, bad luck, the bow fins had suddenly stuck in a position that gradually drove them toward the surface. But perhaps that had been good luck? Had they jammed in the downward position, the I-58 would slowly have descended to the bottom of the ocean, where it would have laid forever while the men died of oxygen loss if the depths didn't crush the sub's hull.

Hashimoto shuddered at the thought. He had thought they were far enough away from the American warships and ordered an immediate surfacing to see if the damaged fins could be fixed. He feared daylight surfacing, but there had been no choice.

It had been bad luck that the American plane had spotted them. Even then he did not think the danger was immediate. The plane, a bomber, had circled them and was obviously puzzled at their behavior and uncertain of their nationality. The damage to the bow fins would only take a few minutes to fix, and then they could dive from the vulture's sight.

It had been stupidity, not bad luck, that doomed them when the machine gunner on the conning tower had fired at the bomber. Not only was the bomber out of range, but it gave away the game. When the bomber came in with its guns blazing, Hashimoto had been forced into the water with most of the men who now sat with him on the raft. He and the others had just made it back onto the deck of the sub when the bombs had exploded, killing the I-58. That they were not in the water, good luck, had saved them. Water does not compress so the pressure of the explosions on their bodies in the water would have squashed the life from them.

"Captain," said one of the sailors, pointing toward the horizon. Two ships were approaching. This time there was no puzzlement. They were American, and in only a few moments, he identified them as destroyers.

The only remaining officer was Ensign Naha, a young man Hashimoto didn't really know. Ensigns were best seen and not heard. Naha stood up shakily on the raft.

"We must not be taken," he announced.

"What do you propose?" Hashimoto asked. The ensign bowed respectfully and knelt down to keep his balance. "Do we have weapons to use on the Americans?" Hashimoto asked.

A quick check showed there were none, not even a pocketknife. "I believe it is our fate to be captured," Hashimoto said. He wondered whether that would be good luck or bad. Regardless, it would happen.

"I will not surrender," yelled Naha. Before anyone could stop him, he jumped into the water and disappeared. In a few seconds, some bubbles popped onto the surface. They were all that remained of Ensign Naha, and the sight of yet another wasted life saddened Hashimoto. He realized that a decision he had always thought impossible was now imminent.

"Captain?" asked one of the sailors through blueing lips. "Shall we follow him? Give us your orders."

The destroyers were much closer and had paired off, one on either side of the huddled group. In a few moments they would be on top of them. It occurred to Hashimoto that the Americans could only have been a mile or so over the horizon. Luck again?

"My orders are that we live."

"They will shoot us," the sailor wailed.

"Not if we show them we are harmless. Strip," Hashimoto ordered. He and the six other men peeled off their clothes. He'd heard that the Americans were concerned about Japanese hiding grenades in their clothing and on their bodies. Nakedness, however degrading under the circumstances, might show them otherwise.

"Everything," he commanded, and in a few seconds they were all naked and shivering from fear as well as the cold.

With exquisite seamanship, one of the destroyers placed itself virtually alongside the raft. "Do you surrender?" someone asked in terrible Japanese.

"We surrender," Hashimoto responded slowly but clearly. He hoped that the American understood him. "I am an officer and you have my word on it."

Getting on board the destroyer was tricky. Netting was lowered, but a couple of the men were too numbed from the cold to hold on. The Americans dropped ropes and hauled up the Japanese like cargo. Hashimoto, as the officer in charge, was the last and managed to climb the net.

Finally he stood, dripping and naked on the deck of the American warship. He was surrounded by at least a score of armed men. Submachine guns were leveled at them as if the seven cold, miserable, and naked Japanese would try to take over the destroyer.

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."

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."