Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II (46 page)

“We can’t return to Japan with our tail between our legs,” one officer argued. “We should scuttle the sub instead.”
²⁸

Ariizumi dismissed the idea. German captains who scuttled their ships at the end of World War I had demonstrated admirable fighting spirit, he explained, but their actions had resulted in higher war reparations for Germany. The commander didn’t want to increase Japan’s burden, especially after losing a war. Instead, he suggested they kill themselves.
^†
29

“Even if we return to the mainland all soldiers will be executed as war criminals,” he added.
³⁰
Mass suicide was a better idea.

Individual accounts of the meeting vary, but Nambu’s officers had little heart for such drastic action.

“Even if we commit suicide we only have six pistols,” one officer pointed out. “Senior officers have a sword but their death would be messy and might discourage the [enlisted men from following their example]. It’s just not practical for 200 people to kill themselves. Sinking the sub would be better, even if it burdens Japan.”
³¹

Ariizumi continued to disagree. He might not have realized, however, that some of his officers preferred not to die by their own hand. Though they were ashamed to admit it, it created a dilemma. If a consensus emerged that suicide was best, the reluctant officers would be obligated to go along. In the meantime, many hoped to avoid death by coming up with an alternative solution.

One officer suggested they hide out on a Pacific island.
³²
The idea was dismissed as impractical because they couldn’t survive on an island without supplies.
³³
Another officer, desirous of breaking the tension, suggested they become pirates.
³⁴
With three attack planes, 20 torpedoes, and months’ worth of provisions, they could sail the high seas capturing ships along the way. It was a funny idea, and no one took it seriously.
³⁵

If Nambu felt anything during the meeting, it was the shame of defeat.
³⁶
It was bad enough that Japan had lost the war; the fact she had surrendered was enough to choke him. But the more Nambu thought about the situation, the more he realized what he should do. The emperor had called upon Japan’s fighting men to return and rebuild their nation. Perhaps they should heed that call. Certainly, their lives would be better spent helping their country recover from a devastating war than sacrificing themselves for a cause already lost.

It was at this moment that Nambu decided what he must do. The war was over; the emperor had deemed it so. He would return his 204 crewmen safely to Japan.
³⁷
And since the Sixth Fleet was no longer in existence, there was no one to tell him to do otherwise—no one except Ariizumi.

It was hard to know where the commander stood after the debate. After all, his first instinct had been for everyone to kill themselves. Would he back a consensus to return to Japan, or would he overrule them? There was no way to know for sure.

After the initial wardroom meeting, Muneo Bando, the
I-401
’s chief navigator, went to Ariizumi’s quarters for a private audience.
³⁸
Like many of the
I-401
’s officers, Bando was relieved the war was over.
³⁹
Newly married, he was inclined to accept the emperor’s edict.

“Commander, regarding suicide …,” Bando began.

“Ah, you weren’t at the meeting, but I think suicide is the best choice for us.”

“What do we do about the submarine, Commander, if we commit suicide?”

“We’ll leave the sub afloat, so it won’t cause problems for Japan in the future.”

It was now or never, so Bando screwed up his courage. “There’s no need to go to these lengths [i.e., kill ourselves] … We have fought for the emperor … but this time, the emperor has ordered our submission.… Committing suicide against his wish … may mean death for nothing.… We should follow orders and return to base.”

“Do you think so?” Ariizumi asked. “No such opinion was expressed in the meeting.”

“Commander, we need to think about the future of the Japanese race. It took Germany only 10 years to recover from World War I.… You devoted half your life to the navy, but I and the crew are young. You may have no regrets, still …,” Bando stopped talking to examine the commander’s face.

Much to Bando’s surprise, Ariizumi seemed to be taking what he said seriously. Sensing an opportunity, Bando pressed on.

“We must be the ones to rebuild Japan. Why not sail the sub to an unpopulated part of the eastern seaboard, split up, and disappear? That way we could arrive home safely and avoid surrendering to the Americans. If the enemy intercepts us, we can always submerge with the hatches open. Barring capture, we should try to get home no matter what.”
⁴⁰

Yata, the
I-401
’s gunnery officer, was not senior enough to have been told of the emperor’s announcement when it first happened. Now that he knew, he was glad the war was over. Nobody had thought they could win anyway, so it was a relief to hear they might be returning home. But could the
I-401
really get through such heavily guarded waters? Yata wondered. Surely the United States would catch them along the way. What would they do then?
⁴¹

Bando’s suggestion to return to Japan was the simplest, most direct response to an ambiguous situation, but the problem of how
to avoid capture by the Americans remained. If they were discovered while too far south, they might be diverted to an American naval base like Saipan or Guam. Alternatively, they couldn’t head for Yokosuka or Kure because both were likely to be occupied.
⁴²
Fortunately, their classified mission gave them options. The
I-401
was a top secret sub, few people knew she existed. This meant they could go anywhere they wanted and nobody would be the wiser. Being a well-kept secret had its advantage.

Alternative accounts suggest that the idea to return to Japan was not Bando’s alone. Whatever the truth, the consensus was fragile. There had been so much back-and-forth, and so many conflicting opinions, that Nambu wasn’t sure which agreement would stick. The commander had always been difficult, and his sense of pride naturally favored death.

Surprisingly, Ariizumi agreed to return to Japan. They would continue traveling underwater by day to escape detection, even though such an act was considered hostile. They would avoid Yokosuka, Kure, and Sasebo. Instead, they would head for the Sanriku coast, a remote area on Honshu’s northeastern seaboard that the enemy was likely to overlook. Once they arrived, they would disembark and quietly scuttle the sub. Since few people knew the
I-401
existed, let alone her whereabouts, they might just get away with it.
⁴³
The two wild cards were the Americans and Ariizumi. Unfortunately, there was nothing Nambu could do about either one. If they ran into the enemy, all bets were off. He just hoped it didn’t come to that.

W
HEN
N
AMBU FINALLY
informed his crew that Japan had lost the war, it was nearly 30 hours since the emperor had broadcast the same message. Many had guessed the truth. Certainly no one complained about not having been told. They were happy just to have survived.
⁴⁴

The crew might have been glad to be alive, but their mood was hardly festive. A depression descended upon the sub and deepened the farther north they got. The shock of having survived the war
was replaced by the uncertainty of what awaited them at home. Were their families still alive, or had they been incinerated by B-29s? Would they be welcomed back, scorned as “ghosts” or worse, seen as responsible for the empire’s defeat? After so many years of warfare, the men had difficulty grasping a future that didn’t involve death. The uncertainty of postwar life weighed on them like a black cloud.
⁴⁵

Nambu received a second Imperial Rescript on August 18, this one addressed “To the officers and men of the Imperial Forces.”

Nambu had little difficulty understanding this rescript. Enough time had passed that he’d accepted Japan’s defeat, and the edict, though sad, was designed to persuade the military to accept a cease-fire. Not everybody was content to surrender though. Two days later the
I-401
received a message not only diverting her from Kure to Ominato but demanding she reveal her position as well.
⁴⁷

The request put Ariizumi in a quandary. If he revealed the
I-401
’s location, the sub could be directed to an enemy port.
⁴⁸

“As a soldier of the Imperial Navy, I cannot let one of his majesty’s ships fall into enemy hands,” he told Nambu. “There is no need to give them our location. We’ll just keep silent and return to the mainland.”
⁴⁹

Clearly, Ariizumi was still in command. Deciding to attack Ulithi after the emperor’s broadcast, returning to a port of his own choosing, and now refusing to reveal the sub’s location were strong indications he was no longer following orders. It was remarkable in some ways that a loyal commander of the Sixth Fleet, one who had consented to massacring prisoners even though he knew the policy was despicable, behaved in this manner. Then again, they were living in remarkable times. Ariizumi was calling the shots.

A third Imperial Rescript, also addressed to the military, was received on August 25. Written to suppress the pockets of resistance that continued to plague the empire, the emperor again thanked his fighting men for their sacrifice, reminded them to cease combat activity, and made it clear that demobilization was under way. The navy minister followed up the rescript with his own message. Praising the emperor’s gracious edict, it reminded IJN personnel to follow the emperor’s words and focus their efforts on rebuilding the nation.

By now, the message was clear. The war was over; the Imperial Japanese Navy was no more. Nambu took the messages as evidence that he was correct in returning his crew to Japan. After posting an inspirational note to the
I-401
’s mast,
⁵⁰
he retired to his cabin to pen his last poem of the war:

Later that night Nambu shaved off his mustache. He felt no regret doing so, though it surprised his crew. He’d been growing the mustache since before hostilities began, and its loss was his way of saying the war was over. The crew understood Nambu’s action. They also grasped his intention to return them home safely. No words need be spoken. The loss of his mustache said volumes.

Traveling on the surface both day and night, Nambu raced home to Japan. On August 26, all IJN warships were instructed to dispose of their weapons and hoist the black flag of surrender.
⁵²
Nambu had all documents collected, in keeping with the order. Everything from the important to the mundane—including the sub’s logbooks, code books, personal diaries, schematics, and navigation charts—was loaded into jute sacks and weighted with ammunition.
⁵³
Then, as the midday sun shone overhead, the crew began throwing bag after bag off the machine gun deck. Nambu watched the sacks splash into the
kuroshio
current. The water was so clear, he could trace each bag as it sank into the darkness.
^‡
54

Weapons disposal left Yata in a state of shock. As gunnery officer, nothing was worse than throwing munitions over the side. It made him feel numb.
⁵⁵
Inouye, the
I-401
’s sonar operator, was similarly moved. Chucking weapons overboard was such a painful reminder of defeat that he found himself crying.
⁵⁶

Nambu waited until dark before disposing of their
Seiran
. The moon was playing hide-and-seek behind the clouds as the first airplane was rolled from the hangar. The aircrew left her wings folded, attached the plane to the catapult without floats, and launched her pilotless into the night sky. The first
Seiran
didn’t get very far before plunging into the sea. Rather than sink right away, she settled so
slowly, it seemed as if she were putting up a fight. Nambu thought it the saddest sight he’d ever seen.

Heiji Kondo was the aircraft mechanic responsible for the second plane. He felt nothing but respect for his charge. As a result, he couldn’t let her leave with a U.S. star on her wings. It would be embarrassing if someone found her. Besides, Kondo wanted everyone to know the
Seiran
had been a Japanese plane. Working quickly in the darkness, he and his maintenance crew painted over the blue and white star with a bright red Japanese sun. When they were finished, they launched their
Seiran
into the night, tears shining in their eyes.
⁵⁷