Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II (36 page)

“Cancel it, we don’t have time.”

Fujimori probably expected some resistance. The mission’s usefulness had been questioned before. But it’s doubtful he expected the attack to be canceled. Fujimori had devoted several years of his life to chaperoning the Panama Canal mission through the naval bureaucracy. Ariizumi had even called to tell him they were finally ready. Now, everything they’d worked for vanished in one meeting.
⁹

There was one person, however, who refused to accept the verdict: Ariizumi. He continued to champion the attack despite Iura’s efforts to dissuade him. He made all the necessary arguments. His fleet was ready; the pilots had trained on a special mockup of the canal; they could leave immediately. But the plan to attack the canal was officially over. In its place, Ariizumi proposed attacking San Francisco or Los Angeles.
¹⁰

At first the idea seemed foolish. What was the point of attacking an American city this late in the war? Ten
Seiran
bombers could hardly do enough damage to hurt the Americans. Ariizumi wasn’t crazy though. He was angry—angry and proud. Attacking Los Angeles might only inflict one ten-thousandth of the damage that American bombs had inflicted upon Japan, but it would demonstrate the Sixth Fleet’s resolve.
¹¹
Even a single arrow shot in the heart of an American city was worth the risk if it proved the fighting spirit of Japan’s submarine force.
¹²

As Ariizumi viewed it, bombing the American people would be payback for the mayhem American B-29s were inflicting on Japan. It was also a way to show that his
Sen-toku
subs were a force to be reckoned with. After all, Ariizumi’s honor was at stake. And if everyone died on the mission, well, what a glorious finale it would be.
¹³

Ariizumi gained some support among Sixth Fleet officers for
attacking a west coast city. First, Chief Staff Officer Hanku Sasaki signed off. Then the Sixth Fleet’s sixth and final commander in chief, Tadashige Daigo, gave his assent. Since the Naval General Staff also had to approve, Ariizumi headed to Tokyo to plead his case.
¹⁴

The historical record is muddled when it comes to the debate over target selection. According to Captain Nambu, Ariizumi was unwilling to abandon the Panama Canal mission and went to Tokyo to fight for its resurrection.
¹⁵
Tsugio Sato, who seemed to know Ariizumi as well as anyone, says the issue of attacking San Francisco or Los Angeles had been settled before Ariizumi went to Tokyo. Whatever the sequence of events, attacking the Panama Canal versus American west coast cities was probably discussed after the Ministry and Navy General Staff votes, even if only for a short while.

Interestingly, there has been speculation that the
Seiran
were to be replaced by manned, jet-propelled suicide rockets.
¹⁶
Such a weapon, the Model 43A, with folding wings for submarine launch, was in development at the end of the war. Though there is no evidence it was specifically intended for the
I-400
s, it’s possible it was considered, given the extreme thinking the Japanese High Command was capable of. There’s also been speculation that if Ariizumi had been permitted to launch a west coast air attack, his
Seiran
air group would have carried a “dirty” bomb.

The theory can be traced to a German U-boat, the
U-234
, which departed Kiel, Germany, in March 1945 destined for Singapore.
¹⁷
The sub carried a special cargo in her mine storage area: ten lead-lined boxes containing uranium oxide.
^†
Destined for the Japanese Army, the radioactive material
was allegedly paid for by a shipment of gold sent to Germany aboard the
I-52
. The two tons of gold were in exchange for Nazi weaponry, including the Me 262, the world’s first jet-powered fighter, and the
U-234
’s uranium shipment.
¹⁸
Some historians claim the radioactive material was destined for a dirty bomb to be dropped by
Seiran
aircraft over San Francisco or Los Angeles.
¹⁹
The claim is based largely on conjecture, and supporting evidence is thin at best. It doesn’t help that the gold payment never reached Germany. The
I-52
was sunk off the west coast of Africa, taking the gold shipment with her. In any event, Hitler died while the uranium was in transit, the two Japanese officers guarding the material committed suicide, and the
U-234
surrendered to the U.S. Navy.
²⁰
In other words, the uranium never reached Japan. It’s conceivable (though unlikely) that the material could have arrived in time for Ariizumi to launch a west coast attack, if indeed this was even its purpose. But as events transpired, Ariizumi didn’t need to make dirty bombs. The Naval High Command had other plans for him.

T
HE SUMMER OF
1945 was exceptionally hot in Japan.
²¹
The air was so humid, it felt like a wet woolen overcoat, and the relentless buzzing of cicadas made the atmosphere seem even more oppressive.

Ariizumi boarded the
Shinetsu
train accompanied by Lieutenant Funada for the long, convoluted trip to Tokyo.
²²
Even though military personnel were given travel priority, the carriage was crowded.
²³
The train was traveling under blackout conditions, and Japan’s narrow-gauge tracks made for a bumpy ride. As if a hot, swaying train carriage weren’t enough, Allied bombs threatened the trip every step of the way.
²⁴
When Ariizumi finally reached his destination, he must have been tired indeed.

By June 1945 few buildings were left in Tokyo. Curtis LeMay’s bombing campaign had nearly wiped the city off the map. Hotel accommodations were especially scarce, so Ariizumi stopped in
Shizuoka to spend the night with his family. Unfortunately, an incendiary raid the day before had reduced the town to ashes.

When he arrived at Shizuoka station, Ariizumi must have wondered whether his house was still standing. Smoke filled the air, and the burned-out ruins of the largely wooden city lay collapsed in the streets. Ariizumi’s house was near the army parade grounds; there was little reason to expect it had survived. When he arrived at his street corner though, the house was still standing.
²⁵
It was a miracle.

Ariizumi’s mother and his wife, Matsu, greeted him at the entranceway, along with his five children. It was a glorious homecoming. Ariizumi had not seen his family for some time, and he missed them terribly. Matsu expressed her deep appreciation for her husband’s safe arrival, even if it was only for one night. While she attended to his every need, Ariizumi’s children scampered about, excited by their father’s return.

That night Matsu prepared a sumptuous dinner.
²⁶
As Ariizumi ate his fill he probably contemplated the family garden a few feet away. A persimmon tree grew there. The Japanese describe the bittersweet flavor of its fruit as tasting like the memory of first love, a poetic if somewhat sentimental association. Persimmons were popular in Japan. They were looked forward to like summer corn in America or the first apples of the fall season. One wonders whether Ariizumi expected to live long enough to taste its fruit, especially since persimmons didn’t ripen until the fall. He’d certainly had his share of bittersweet experience. Given the way his war was going, it was unlikely he’d live to see his persimmon tree bloom.

Matsu knew her husband was likely to die. She probably suspected this was the last time she’d see him. This was one reason why so much emotion ran beneath the surface of their reunion. But Matsu didn’t even get 24 hours with her husband. Early the next morning Ariizumi left for Tokyo. It was the last time they would ever see each other.

A
RIIZUMI HEADED TO
Hiyoshidai, where the Imperial Defense Command was headquartered. Hiyoshidai, or Hiyoshi for short, was a warren of deep underground bunkers named for the town on the outskirts of Tokyo where it was located. Lying nearly 100 feet beneath the newly built Keio University, Hiyoshi boasted 16,000 feet of tunnels designed to survive the impact of a one-ton bomb.

The command bunker was lined in concrete with rounded ceilings and miles of wires strung along its walls. It was so damp, the tunnels dripped water even in summer, and a small groove was carved into the floor for runoff. Junior personnel lived in the tunnels. Although it was a good place to avoid the summer heat, the accommodations were hardly luxurious. Most command personnel chose to sleep in aboveground dormitories where a hot bath was available.

The Japanese military subscribed to a certain amount of delusional thinking right up until the end of the war, but not even the most optimistic naval officer could ignore the evidence staring them in the face. The dark, cavelike atmosphere of Hiyoshi perfectly fit the siege mentality that dominated the Combined Fleet. Suicidal naval offensives were ordered one after the other. Despite little chance of success, their practical result was to reduce the Imperial Japanese Navy to nothing.

Unifying Japan’s military command at Hiyoshi in April 1945 was an obvious step in defense of the homeland. Still, it only demonstrated how far the Imperial Japanese Navy had fallen. Moving to Hiyoshi meant that the Combined Fleet’s flagship headquarters had to be abandoned. In other words, Japan’s naval command was no longer safe in its own waters. Working out of a rabbit’s burrow only underlined how far the navy had fallen.

When Ariizumi arrived at Hiyoshi, he presented himself to the Naval General Staff.
²⁷
He explained that the
Sen-toku
subs were ready, and he passionately defended attacking the canal. Nothing could inflict more damage on the enemy than destroying their entrance to the Pacific, he proclaimed.
²⁸
He wanted the higher-ups to change their mind.

Ariizumi was not one to buck the system; he knew his place in the command structure, which is why it’s so surprising he traveled to Tokyo to lobby his superiors. A Japanese officer did not argue with orders unless he was sure he was right.
²⁹
All of his hard work, combined with his rigid personality, must have warped his judgment. His position was understandable though, courageous even. From the late delivery of the subs, to their thwarted training in the Inland Sea; from fuel shortages to air raid attacks; from earthquakes to incendiary attacks, exploding mines, and the loss of five aircraft and nine
Seiran
crewmen, Ariizumi had overcome overwhelming odds to achieve the impossible. It was bad enough that he faced the full force and fury of the U.S. Navy; having his own command turn against him was more than he could bear.

Ariizumi viewed bombing the Panama Canal as the pinnacle of his career. It represented everything he and his men had worked for, trained for, fought for, and died for. To cancel the attack when they were so close to being ready would be shortsighted, and worse, it would endanger the future of Japan.
^‡

After presenting his case, Ariizumi sat stone-faced awaiting a reply.

“I agree with (your) opinion,” an NGS officer told him. “However, we must break the deadlock of war.… U.S. task forces are menacing the Japanese mainland. It is of utmost importance that we annihilate them first. Rather than attack the canal, we should attack enemy carriers at Ulithi. This will achieve better results.”
³⁰

Ariizumi’s petition was denied.

It’s unlikely that Ariizumi let the matter drop. It was certainly within his character to press a point. At least one report suggests he was scolded for continuing to insist the Panama mission should proceed.

“A man does not worry about a fire he sees on the horizon when other flames are licking at his sleeve!” he was told.
³¹

Ariizumi might have been hard-headed,
³²
but he was also realistic. He’d made his appeal and lost. His only choice was to return to Nanao and inform the squadron of their new target.

It was time to rally his men.

Considered the father of the
Sen-toku
submarine squadron, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto wanted the
I-400
s to launch a surprise attack against New York City and Washington, DC, forcing America to sue for an early peace.

Yamamoto’s air raid against two of America’s most important cities was intended as a follow-up to his surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. By driving the United States to the negotiating table early, he hoped Japan would be able to keep her South Pacific conquests. An attack similar to what Yamamoto planned was later depicted in Makoto Aida’s six-panel sliding screen
A Picture of an Air Raid on New York City
, 1966.
Photograph by Hideto Nagatsuka. Courtesy of Mizuma Art Gallery, Tokyo
.

S
EN-TOKU
S
UBS
’ K
EY
P
ERSONNEL

The
Sen-toku
subs’ squadron commander, Tatsunosuke Ariizumi, not only had a taste for drink, but was also called “gangster” by his crew for his ruthlessness in prosecuting the war.

The
I-401
’s officers and crew knew their commanding officer, Nobukiyo Nambu, had their best interests at heart, though they couldn’t always say the same for Commander Ariizumi.

Kazuo Takahashi, one of the
I-400
’s
Seiran
pilots (
far right
) with Cdr. Toshio Kusaka, commanding officer of the
I-400
(
in foreground
). Takahashi was highly critical of his colleagues, but he was one of the few
Seiran
pilots with extensive combat experience.

Lt. Atsushi Asamura, the
I-401
’s
Seiran
squadron leader, was prepared to die if that’s what it took to complete their mission.
Courtesy of Lt. Atsushi Asamura

The
I-401
’s officers assemble in front of the aircraft hangar door on the sub’s foredeck with Lt. Cdr. Nobukiyo Nambu (in dark uniform).

T
HE
S
EN-TOKU
S
UBS

At 400 feet 3 inches long, the
I-400
s were the largest submarines ever built until the nuclear-powered
Ethan Allen
class in 1961. Each sub carried a two-hundred-man crew and three special attack planes, and could travel one and a half times around the world without refueling.

The
I-401
’s biggest challenge was launching all three of its
Seiran
in under half an hour; the longer she remained on the surface, the greater risk she ran of being sunk. Seiran,
painting by Jack Fellows,
jackfellows.com

The
I-400
’s wardroom was far larger than that of a typical U.S. combat sub. Trimmed in wood, it served not only as a gathering place for the sub’s officers, but also as their dining room, briefing room, and sleeping quarters.
U.S. Navy

According to official accounts, all blueprints for the
Sen-toku
subs were destroyed at the end of the war. However, the author discovered the last complete set in a closet at a Japanese naval facility.
Courtesy of the author