Edge of Valor (13 page)

“No, not the Japs. I mean to the Russians.”

“What do the Russians have to do with this?”

“Just in case. That's all I can say.”

“Fine. So, I just show up and ask for Walter Boring. Is that it?”

“Hopefully. Boring is a Swiss citizen, so they have no reason to hold him. And don't forget we're sending you in with Fujimoto.” DeWitt blew a smoke ring. “And here's something Captain Fujimoto doesn't know. His little brother is the Japanese garrison commander there.”

“How is that going to help?”

“Fujimoto is a mine-laying expert. If the Soviets come into play, he can trade information with them about the mines laid around Karafuto.”

“Let me ask again, Otis. How can the Soviets come into play if they have yet to take the territory? And why me? Why not some flunky major like Neidemeier?”

“I don't know all the answers, Todd. We want you because you have experience with Japs. And Russians too, if it comes to that.”

“Russians? Only once, and that was a long time ago.”

“Well, suffice to say we're trying to cover all the bases.”

Ingram drummed his fingers. “What can you tell me about Fujimoto?”

“He's one of those we need to help us in a peaceful occupation of Japan and to agree to our terms for a surrender ceremony. And you'll be accompanied by an interpreter, one of yours.”

“One of my what?”

“Navy. Lt. Larry O'Toole. He rode down with you on the plane.”

“There were a lot of people on that plane.”

“Well, I understand he's good, so give him lots of room.”

“Okay. Now, what about the surrender ceremony? When is that?”

“A week or two. No later than the end of August. Then you'll see two hundred U.S. Navy ships anchored in Tokyo Bay, yours included—what is it, Todd?”

“It just hit me. Fujimoto acts like he knows me.”

“I don't think he knows you, but he knows of you.”

“You're speaking in riddles.”

“His father was Rear Admiral Hayashi Fujimoto; his brother was Lieutenant Commander Katsumi Fujimoto, both recently of the Imperial Japanese Navy.”

“You mean—?”

“Captain Fujimoto and his younger brother are the surviving males in the Fujimoto family, the other two having been dispatched by you with a torpedo in Nasipit Harbor on Mindanao. You know . . . the place where we . . .”

During Ingram's escape from Corregidor in a 36-foot launch, Katsumi Fujimoto, skipper of the destroyer
Kurosio
, tried to run him down off Fortune Island. In his zeal, Katsumi Fujimoto ran his ship aground, allowing Ingram to escape in the darkness. Months later, Katsumi Fujimoto was relegated to the command of a captured American service barge in Nasipit, Mindanao. While there, he renovated a captured flush-deck American destroyer. He took it out for torpedo practice one night with his father, Rear Admiral Hayashi Fujimoto, at his side. It was to be a night of great achievement for Katsumi, the family's oldest son. Instead, Ingram managed to launch a Mark 15 torpedo into the ship, sinking her with all hands.

“I remember, Otis.”

Dewitt straightened in his chair. “Look, Todd, it's simple. How can Fujimoto be pissed at you if you reunite him with his little brother? It all works, you see.”

“Jesus. You guys play for keeps.”

“It's important, Todd.” DeWitt's cigarette was nearly done. He took it out of the holder and crushed it in an ashtray.

“I think I can get you aboard ship to see the surrender ceremony.”

“You're kidding.”

“Ninety-two percent sure.”

“Can I bring a guest?”

“Like who?”

“Like my boss and my exec?”

“Jerry Landa is a worthless son of a bitch.”

“What did he ever do to you?”

“Tells farting jokes in the officers' clubs, for one thing. Embarrasses the ladies. He does that everywhere, I'm told.”

“Otis, that's Jerry on the beach. He knocked that stuff off years ago, anyway.”

“Wrong. Last performance two weeks ago at the Kadena O Club.”

“You were there?”

“Only because admission was free. No tickets required to see that jerk. Likes to be called Boom Boom.”

“He hates that name.”

“Well, everyone was calling him that.”

“Otis, let me tell you something. At sea, Jerry Landa is one of the best fighting sailors you'll ever find. I've served with him for almost three years now and trust him with my life.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

“What?”

“When Landa stops fighting, is farting all he knows in peacetime? You see what I mean?”

“Otis, I—”

DeWitt raised a hand. “Maybe I'm being too rough on the guy. I'll see what I can do. But just getting
you
in is going to be really tight.”

“So, it's going to be a big deal?”

“A major deal. And it's growing by the minute. The world press is being invited. Representatives from all the Allied nations. Everyone wants in. Yes, a very big deal.”

Ingram sat back as DeWitt fished out a new pack of Lucky Strikes. Just then, Sutherland burst through the door. “Otis, you don't mind if I—ah, look at that.”

DeWitt stripped off the pack's cellophane and slowly counted out ten cigarettes.

Sutherland gave a deep mock bow and took them. “Thanks, Otis. I owe you.”

“That's three packs so far.”

Sutherland gave a great laugh. “There aren't many people who could talk to me like that, cigarettes or not. Look, I sent one of the waiters off to the PX for a couple of cartons. That satisfy you?”

“Very nice, General, thank you, sir.”

“The Japs love these too. American cigarettes. Great for negotiating. They're going nuts in there.”

“Glad to help out, General.”

Sutherland produced a gold Ronson lighter and lit a Lucky Strike. Then he looked to Ingram. “How's it going? You got it?”

Ingram said, “Think so, General, except for one thing.”

Both looked at him.

“This Walter Boring. What's he do? What's so big about him?”

DeWitt and Sutherland exchanged glances. At length, Sutherland said, “I'm sorry, we can't tell you that.”

Chapter Eight

21 August 1945

En route to Ie Shima Island, Okinawa Prefecture, Ryukyu Islands, Japan

A
fter a quick lunch, the convoy raced Ingram and the others back to Nichols Field for a 1330 takeoff. This time there were no angry Filipino crowds, just a desolate, smoldering city and MPs waving them through traffic. Time was of the essence because the Japanese had to transfer to their G4M2s at Ie Shima for a flight back to Japan, and deteriorating weather was predicted.

Ingram was in the cockpit jump seat watching Peoples do the takeoff while the others laughed and taunted. They were comfortable with Ingram, so their language was crass, especially at ten thousand feet and on autopilot. Every few minutes the C-54 hit an air pocket and dropped a few hundred feet. The passengers in the main cabin cursed as the aircraft jiggled and bounced.

“I'm here.” Major Neidemeier stood over Ingram. He'd agreed to switch to the cockpit jump seat while Ingram spent time with Fujimoto back in the main cabin. The plane shook. Neidemeier reached up and braced himself against the overhead.

Berne said, “Better not touch that, Major. It's high voltage.”

“Jeeeez!” Neidemeier jerked his hand away.

Ingram stood. “It's okay, Clive. Here, sit.” He checked the Bakelite tag on the spot where Neidemeier had braced. It was labeled AUX RAD 2. He looked at Berne, who shrugged.

Neidemeier sat and swiveled his head, his eyes becoming large.

“Seat belt,” barked Radcliff.

“Okay, okay,” said Neidemeier. He strapped in, getting more bug-eyed as he looked about the cockpit. “Look at all these dials and levers.”

Radcliff turned around. “You buckled up?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Good. Don't move, and don't touch anything.”

“Yes, yes, okay.”

Radcliff went back to monitoring his gauges.

“All set back there?” asked Ingram. He took a step aft.

“They're waiting for you,” said Neidemeier.

The plane bounced for a moment. Neidemeier groaned. He asked, “So now can you tell me about the Torvatron?”

“The what?” said Ingram.

“At Ie Shima you said this aircraft was equipped with the latest safety device, a Torvatron.”

Ingram slapped his forehead.

Neidemeier asked, “Please, Commander, can it help us through this?”

“Well, I'm not sure about all the settings. I'm not a pilot, you see.”
What the hell do I do now?
Ingram caught Hammer's eye.

Hammer picked it up. “Ohhhh, the, ah, Torv . . .”

“Torvatron,” snapped Ingram.

“Yeah, the Torvatron.”

Neidemeier turned to Hammer. “So we do have one?”

Hammer looked back to Ingram, his face deadpan. “I think so.”

“What do you mean you think so? Do we have one or not?”

“Well, yes,” said Hammer, dropping his gaze back to Neidemeier.

“What's it do?”

Hammer fiddled with switches. “Kind of hard to say, Major. It's complex, and I'm not sure if we carry the latest mod.”

“Wait a minute, Commander Ingram told me this aircraft was fitted with one of the newest safety devices: a Torvatron. And now you, the flight engineer, aren't sure if we carry the latest modification?”

“Well, I'm not sure if I can say any more,” said Hammer.

Ingram tried to exit, but the plane lurched in a downdraft and he stumbled against Berne. “Sorry.”

Berne looked up with a grin.

“Well, do we have one or not?” demanded Neidemeier.

“Well, I . . .”

Radcliff spun in his seat. “Indeed we do, Major Neidemeier.”

“Fine. Can you tell me what it does?”

Radcliff eyed Ingram. “Well, basically, the Torvatron is still classified top secret. That's why Sergeant Hammer can't respond. But I can tell you a little.”

“Go on. I'm cleared for top secret.”

Radcliff lowered his voice. “Okay, here's the dope. A Torvatron is a spheroid hydrofrezassbitz that's connected to the quavertine radiometer that governs all sigmoidographic information.”

Peoples clapped a hand over his face. Berne fiddled with a sextant. Hammer suddenly became involved in a fuel transfer.

“Sigmoidographic? Like in a doctor's office?”

Radcliff looked from side to side, “Shhhh. Yeah, doctors' offices, same idea; used for people with a shitty outlook.”

“Huh?”

“Right, the idea is the same, except a Torvatron is used for shitty weather. Like now, it's bumpy. So what happens is we crank in a 17-degree offset to the tircumdittleflatter and then we—”

The plane hit another air pocket and dropped. Ingram grabbed the edge of Hammer's chair and held on.

“What was that?” wailed Neidemeier.

“Power supply interruption to the Torvatron,” said Radcliff. “We'll be okay now.” To Hammer: “Sergeant!”

“Sir!”

“Better go aft and make sure everyone's buckled in. Weather looks snotty up ahead.”

“Yes, sir.” Hammer unbuckled and walked out.

Neidemeier asked, “What do we do if we don't get the power back?”