Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II (48 page)

As Nambu watched his enemy, the American sub flashed another signal. This one said “surrender.” “Stop” was one thing, “surrender” quite another. The
I-401
might have been flying the black flag, but Ariizumi had no intention of honoring it.

Asamura had been sleeping when the
Segundo
first appeared. Word of the American sub quickly spread, and though there was
no panic, the crew was worried. Fearful of death, a young crewman sought Asamura out for reassurance: “We’ll die together, won’t we?”
⁴

The young man’s concern was indicative of the fear some felt inside the
I-401
. Many of the enlisted men expected to die, if not at the hands of the Americans, then at the hands of their commander. After all, everyone knew Ariizumi had slaughtered Allied prisoners. Their treatment at the hands of the enemy would be no different.

Some men were convinced Ariizumi would never permit that to happen. He would kill them first, either by scuttling the sub or by ordering them to commit suicide. Either way, they were doomed.

While the crew wondered what was happening, Nambu carefully watched the
Segundo
. He had a bad feeling about the sub. Her intention to sink them seemed clear. Given his limited options, Nambu figured it was best to do nothing. A passive-aggressive approach might buy time to develop a course of action. He would wait them out.

Unfortunately for Nambu, Captain Johnson was in no mood for stalling. He’d been granted permission to torpedo the enemy if they showed resistance. The Japanese sub might have been flying the surrender flag, but nothing in her behavior indicated she would do so.

The
Segundo
’s crew knew their captain wouldn’t hesitate to sink the enemy. They might have been more worried, however, had they known his real intention. For Johnson wasn’t going to sink the
I-401
, at least not yet. He was going to try to board her first.
⁵

T
HE
I-401
’
S CHIEF
navigator, Muneo Bando, was standing near Captain Nambu on the bridge when they received a signal from the American sub to “dispatch an officer.”

“Send an officer?” Bando thought, “What do they mean send an officer? They should send someone to us!”
⁶
Even in the middle of a showdown, Sixth Fleet pride took precedence.

Nambu tried a different approach. Instead of refusing the request, he signaled, “We have no boat.”
⁷

This wasn’t true, of course. Kondo, the
Seiran
mechanic, was busy preparing a rubber raft for just such a request.
⁸
But Nambu was reluctant to comply with the order.
⁹
The longer he dragged things out, the more options he might have. Though he didn’t want to be torpedoed, he wasn’t going to cooperate just because they’d asked.

In the meantime, Captain Johnson was losing patience. “Tell them we’ll send a boat!” he snapped.

Now that the
Segundo
had called their bluff, Ariizumi needed to appoint someone to represent them. Regulations stipulated that in such situations, the chief navigator should serve as liaison. But Bando’s English was poor. Nevertheless, Ariizumi wanted him to go.

“This is asking a lot, but please visit the enemy submarine,” Ariizumi requested. “We have no intention of living ourselves, and I don’t know what will happen to you amongst the enemy, but think of this as your final duty and go.”
¹⁰

Ariizumi had always liked Bando even though some crewmen considered him a brown-noser. Still, the navigator was able to say things to the commander that Nambu could never get away with.
¹¹

Bando agreed to act as liaison, but that didn’t mean he had the authority to negotiate. The most he could do was communicate the commander’s wishes and relay the American response. He did not have the power to accept or change terms. That was Ariizumi’s call.

The biggest problem Bando faced was his weak command of the enemy’s language.
¹²
Ariizumi knew Bando was deficient and questioned him about it.

“Can you handle them all right with your English?” he asked. “Why don’t you bring along a crew member who can translate for you?”
¹³

Ariizumi was probably thinking of Masao Nishimura, a Canadian-born Nisei who spoke fluent English. Nishimura had monitored the English-language broadcasts aboard the
I-401
.
¹⁴
His command of the language was excellent.

But Bando didn’t want an English speaker. He was concerned that a translator might inadvertently say something he shouldn’t or somehow take control of the negotiations.
¹⁵
Importantly, Bando
thought it best if the Americans didn’t understand everything he was saying. Obscurity could help in a situation where they had few advantages. If anything, he might be able to wear down the Americans enough that they’d grant a concession. It wouldn’t be the first time the Japanese had used such a tactic.

“I can’t let the enemy see our hand,” Bando replied. “I will handle this myself.”

Bando felt responsibility for their situation.
¹⁶
After all, he’d convinced Ariizumi not to scuttle the sub. Staying alive had made sense at the time, since they still had options. Now that they might become prisoners, he wasn’t so sure. The obligation to bring matters to an honorable conclusion weighed heavily upon him. Nor did it help that he entertained thoughts of survival.
¹⁷

If the Americans could be persuaded to allow the
I-401
to continue on her own,
¹⁸
Bando felt he could prevent Ariizumi from scuttling the sub. But if they refused, or negotiations broke down, all bets were off. In that case, Bando was prepared to die.
¹⁹

The
Segundo
sent a small rubber raft to collect Bando. Manned by Lt. (jg) J. K. Brozo and rowed by Chief of the Boat E. A. Russell, it took the two men 15 minutes to maneuver the craft near the giant submarine. Entering a raft in a choppy sea is not an elegant process, and Bando undoubtedly got wet. Wearing shorts, a long-sleeved coat, and a short-brimmed hat, he sat in the stern practically in Lieutenant Brozo’s lap. As Russell pulled away from the
I-401
, the wind picked up and the sea with it.

It took another 15 minutes to return to the
Segundo
.
²⁰
During this time, Bando sat quietly in the raft, fearful about what might happen next. He was about to board an American submarine outmanned, outgunned, and far from help. The fate of the
I-401
rested upon his shoulders. He didn’t want the crew to die in vain, but if it came to that, he wasn’t going without a fight. If the enemy sank them, he resolved to give the American captain a farewell punch in the jaw.
²¹

By the time the raft bumped against the
Segundo
’s hull, Bando was seriously scared. When he saw the reception party, five crewmen each with a pistol waiting to search him, he realized the
Americans considered him unpredictable. They needn’t have worried. Bando had every intention of conducting himself in a manner becoming an officer of the Imperial Japanese Navy, even with a .45 stuck in his back.

Johnson was waiting on the bridge. Wearing a dark navy jacket and his lieutenant commander’s hat, he maintained a casual pose as the navigator greeted him.

“I am Bando,” Bando said. He followed his broken English with a Japanese-style bow.

“Hello, Mr. Bando,” Johnson replied. “Nice to meet you.”
²²

He then shook the navigator’s hand, albeit awkwardly.
²³
Formalities finished, Johnson cut to the chase.

“You surrender.”
²⁴

“Look at my submarine,” Bando responded, uncertain of his English. “We not surrender, we
hara kiri
.”

Captain Johnson looked concerned. “
Hara kiri
no good,” he replied.
²⁵

Bando was surprised that an American sub captain would know the word
hara kiri
. Johnson had even used it in his reply, leaving no doubt he understood what the ritual act of suicide meant. Bando smiled inwardly. If Captain Johnson didn’t want the Japanese crew to kill themselves, it gave him negotiating leverage. He could use suicide as a threat to extract concessions from his foe.
²⁶
That, combined with the possibility the Americans didn’t know the sub had disarmed, meant they were in a stronger negotiating position than he originally realized.

As the conversation progressed, the mood remained hostile. Johnson told Bando he wanted the Japanese sub to proceed to Yokosuka accompanied by the
Segundo
. Bando refused, claiming the
I-401
had only enough fuel to reach Ominato.
^*
Johnson didn’t buy Bando’s story. Yokosuka was closer than Ominato; the
I-401
should
have no trouble reaching the sub base. The truth was Ariizumi didn’t want to surrender at an occupied naval base. He found it too humiliating. Nevertheless, Johnson had orders to escort the
I-401
to Yokosuka whether they liked it or not.

If Johnson was surprised to be negotiating with a junior officer, he didn’t show it. Bando might have had less authority than Nambu, but Johnson seemed content to deal with him. Despite a somewhat flippant manner, the
Segundo
’s captain remained calm throughout the discussion. He knew the Japanese were in no position to negotiate. The
Segundo
had them at gunpoint. But Johnson was willing to hear them out, so long as he wasn’t played for a fool. At the end of the day, they would do what he said or he’d blow them out of the water. It was as simple as that.

Bando, however, proved difficult to understand. As the
Segundo
’s patrol report indicates, “A doubtful conversation [was held] in baby talk plus violent gestures.”
²⁷
It’s dangerous to negotiate with a foe you don’t completely comprehend. The cultural gap was wide enough, but the language barrier was almost insurmountable.

Despite the difficulty in communicating, the
Segundo
’s captain remained in control. Slouching against the bridge, his lieutenant commander’s hat tipped back on his forehead, Johnson towered over the Japanese navigator. He might not have realized that Bando didn’t have the authority to negotiate, especially since the chief navigator was negotiating with all his might. Nevertheless, Bando appeared almost comical. Aside from being small, he seemed exotic and out of place.

Handing him a map, Johnson pointed to where he wanted the Japanese sub to go. Yokosuka, he said. Even Bando could understand that. But the chief navigator had other ideas.

When he’d first climbed aboard the American sub, he was sure they were going to kill him. But Johnson had no more intention of killing Bando than he did of allowing the
I-401
’s crew to commit suicide. Perhaps there was an honorable alternative. If so, Bando was determined to find it.

Using pidgin English, Bando tried persuading the
Segundo
’s CO to let them go to Ominato. If he did, Bando promised, they’d turn
their sub over as soon as they arrived. If Johnson insisted on the
I-401
surrendering however, they’d have no choice but to commit
hara kiri
.

Johnson shook his head.

At this point in the discussion, a
Segundo
quartermaster pulled a KA-BAR combat knife from his belt and held it in front of Bando.

“Here, take this,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone commit
hara kiri
before.” Then, to emphasize the point, he shouted down the bridge hatch, “Send up a bucket of water! We’re going to have a mess up here.”
²⁸

The story may be apocryphal, since the crewman who reported it was not on the bridge at the time, but it was indicative of the sour feelings that many of the crew felt for the Japanese. There might have been a cease-fire, but the war wasn’t over, not by a long shot. And these Japanese seemed intent on restarting it.

Johnson hung tough despite his crew’s doubts. Arguing that suicide would be meaningless now that the war was over, he told Bando the best thing to do was surrender and accompany him to Yokosuka.

“I’d like you to persuade your people of this,” he urged Bando. “There’s no point in killing yourselves.”

Bando didn’t understand everything the American sub captain said. Still, he sensed the man felt responsible for keeping them alive.

“They won’t commit suicide before I return,” Bando said, “so please don’t worry. The important thing is the result of our negotiation.”

But Bando was wrong. Unknown to the chief navigator, Ariizumi’s patience had run out. Determined not to surrender his flagship, the commander had grown so agitated, he ordered signal flags to be used to send Bando a message.

It read: “Tell them to hurry up and sink our sub.”

Bando was astonished. He’d boarded the American sub eager to save his crewmates. Now Ariizumi was telling him to facilitate their death.

“Please wait, we are negotiating,” Bando signaled back.
²⁹

As far as Ariizumi was concerned, it was too late. The negotiations had gone on long enough. If the Americans wouldn’t torpedo Ariizumi’s sub, allowing him an honorable death, then he would take matters into his own hands.

“Open the Kingston valves!” he commanded.
³⁰

Ariizumi would sink his flagship himself.

N
O ONE WAS MORE SURPRISED THAN THE
I-400
’
S CAPTAIN TO SEE
their torpedoes jump out of the ocean, make a 180-degree turn, and head back toward the sub. Circular torpedo runs were rare in the Japanese Navy. When they did occur, they were a much-dreaded event. Kusaka immediately called for evasive action. He wasn’t worried about the torpedoes exploding; they’d been disarmed before launching. But you didn’t want a two-ton, steel-jacketed battering ram slamming into your hull at 50 knots, especially more than once. Even unarmed torpedoes can do damage.