1945 Page 9

  Yet, as Morrell and Ruger drew closer and overflew the anchorage, their spirits were buoyed. The waters around Okinawa were filled with what looked like limitless numbers of warships of all sizes and types, all massing for the assault ahead. Battleships and carriers, along with attendant cruisers and destroyers, were arrayed farther offshore in the deep waters, while transports, landing craft, and other and more plebeian and utilitarian craft huddled nearer the shore.

  The island itself appeared to have been transformed into a floating military base. The central and northern portions in particular were an ocean of tents and temporary buildings that made the transit camp back in California look minuscule in comparison. The flatter central portion contained several airfields, and their C-47 landed without incident and taxied quickly off the crowded runway to make room for the next plane. They were just another flight ferrying in from somewhere as part of the huge buildup of forces.

  As they climbed, stiff-jointed, out of the transport and onto the hot field, Ruger remarked, "One more plane and the goddamn island's gonna sink, Lieutenant." Several other planes circled and waited their turn to land, while hundreds of others were parked wingtip to wingtip on the fields adjacent to the air bases.

  "I almost wonder if there's any room for us. My God, why doesn't someone take a picture of this and send it to the Japs. It'd scare them into surrendering," Paul said in awe.

  Ruger and Morrell had arrived at the shattered island several days ahead of the troopship carrying the other officers and the enlisted men of the company. This gave the two men time to reconnoiter the area and make plans for the training the men would have to have. Paul took it as a compliment that Ruger seemed to both like him and respect his opinions. Why the hell hadn't he had a captain like Ruger back in Germany?

  Thus, when the rest of their men came ashore from their cramped transport, the situation was fairly well organized. What Paul and Ruger were not prepared for were the sullen looks on the men's faces, along with the hatred and disgust in their eyes. They bitterly resented that they had been sent out to fight while so many of their buddies were heading home.

  "Shit," Ruger whispered, "we got a helluva morale problem on our hands. I thought the troops would be unhappy, but this is a lot worse than I ever thought it would be."

  With that, Ruger distributed the almost 250 men in his command to their respective platoon officers. Before they got settled in their barracks tents, Paul gathered the sixty men in his platoon around him in a large and informal cluster. Only his platoon sergeant, S. Sgt. Frank Collins, a rawboned and red-haired Kentuckian, looked even remotely friendly. Collins looked exhausted; it had been a rough and tedious transit from California as he and the other officers and NCOs had gotten little sleep. Much of their time was taken up with breaking up fights.

  "Gentlemen," Paul began after Collins introduced him, "how many of you have eighty-five points?"

  Eighty-five points was the magic number a man needed to be rotated back to the States and discharged. The number was based on a formula that included a man's total years in service, time in combat, number of dependents at home, and a handful of other things. But the bottom line was simple. Eighty-four or less and he stayed put.

  There were exceptions, of course, and they almost always worked in the army's favor. First, the program only included combat soldiers, so support and administrative types were in for the duration. Also, if a person had a unique skill, such as the ability to speak Japanese, then he was screwed no matter how many points he had.

  Paul looked at his men. "Since I don't see any hands raised, I guess nobody's going home. Well, I'm not either, and I'm not any happier than you are. In fact, I'm kind of pissed off about it. I don't have eighty-five points or anywhere near that, so we're stuck with each other."

  Paul had spent a little time going over their service records and knew that a few of them were achingly close to that magic number. Most, however, weren't anywhere near it.

  "Let me be blunt. Like you, I'd much rather be home with my family and friends too, but it's not gonna happen. I'm not going to give you a bullshit rah-rah speech or insult your intelligence about how much we're going to do to win this war. But we're not going home until this thing is over, so we're all gonna have to make the best of it. Captain Ruger's goal, and mine too, is to have everyone make it through this safely. By the way, that includes my ass getting back in one piece too.

  "In order to do that, we're going to start first thing tomorrow morning doing some of the hardest training you've ever seen. It's gonna make basic training look like a high school dance. The purpose will be to get you back in shape- some of you look like you haven't exercised since the Japs hit Pearl Harbor- and improve your weapons training along with small-unit tactics. We figure we've got about a month before we ship out, and we're going to make the most of it."

  With that, Paul dismissed the men to get a meal and a good night's sleep. He saw Collins looking at him carefully.

  "How badly did I do, Sergeant?"

  "You gonna be marching with us tomorrow, Lieutenant?"

  The question surprised Paul. "Of course. Where the hell else would I be?"

  Collins relaxed and smiled. "Well, not every officer does what he asks his men to do. I was on Luzon with an officer who rode in a jeep every chance he got, regardless of what his men were doing. Nobody was too upset when his jeep ran over a mine. You march with them and share their problems with them, then they'll come around. They won't love you, but they'll respect you." Collins saluted casually. "See you in the morning, Lieutenant."

  Paul looked around at the small and undistinguished portion of Okinawa his platoon called home. He heard a throbbing noise and looked skyward to see a pair of American fighters streak overhead. In the darkness, he couldn't see what they were exactly, although he thought they might have been F4U Corsairs from one of the outlying carriers.

  It struck him that they were on patrol, and that he was a few hundred miles from Japan, on an island jammed full of targets. He wondered if the next planes he saw or heard would be Japs and shuddered.

  CHAPTER 14

  It occurred to Joseph Grew, the former ambassador to Japan, that an assassin with a bomb could force the United States to end the war simply by killing the people who were now staring at him in some expectation.

  In the Oval Office along with President Truman and Secretary of State Byrnes were Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal and Secretary of War Henry Stimson. Directly representing the military were General Marshall and Admirals Leahy and King.

  "I have asked Ambassador Grew to talk to us today to help us put the Japanese situation in perspective," Truman began. "You will recall that Mr. Grew served as ambassador to Japan from 1932 until that fateful month of December 1941. Along with his staff and their families, they were exchanged for the Japanese ambassador and their staff and returned to the United States in early 1942."

  Grew nodded. "First, let me say that my own opinions are not particularly in total favor at State." He glanced at Byrnes, who smiled slightly and nodded for him to go on.

  "I learned to love the Japanese people and their culture during my almost nine years as ambassador. I found the ordinary people to be gentle and friendly. However, a few, primarily some of those in the military, have proven capable of the most bestial cruelties to their fellow man, and that includes their own fellow Japanese. In my opinion, this war should be ended by negotiations and we should forswear the idea of forcing the Japanese to accept unconditional surrender. To do anything else will only extend the bloodshed needlessly."

  It was a paradox in Truman's administration that the State Department, led by Byrnes and Dean Acheson, was pressing for unconditional surrender and the bloodshed that would ensue as a result of that policy, while the military wanted a negotiated peace that abandoned the position of unconditional surrender and, thus, eliminated the need for an invasion. Truman thought it surprising that, in this regard, his generals and admirals were far less warlike than the diplom
ats.

  "We appreciate your candor," Truman said. "Now please proceed."

  Grew reminded them that the Japanese archipelago, referred to as the home islands, consisted of four larger islands and hundreds of smaller ones. The island chain ran from the southwest near Korea and northeast toward Siberia and extended for more than twelve hundred miles. Honshu was by far the largest of the islands, and all were hilly and rugged, which forced much of the population into a number of crowded cities. A great deal of the land was not suitable for farming, although the Japanese had incredible ingenuity regarding agriculture. They grew a large quantity of their food, primarily rice, and they also fished extensively in the surrounding waters.

  "The islands are warmed by four currents coming from the south. This results in a climate that is astonishingly mild and temperate."

  "And that could mean several growing seasons, couldn't it?" Truman inquired. As a Missourian, he knew a bit about farming.

  "In some instances, yes. Which is why, despite our bombings and blockades, there has been no starvation. Severe food rationing, yes, but no starvation. At least not yet.

  "Over time, the remoteness of the Japanese islands insulated the people from the activities on the mainland so that they developed a concept of uniqueness. That uniqueness resulted in the Japanese thinking of themselves as a master race. That idea on their part predates the Nazis by centuries."

  King interrupted, "Then how the hell did the Japs get in bed with Hitler? What would have happened if the Axis had won the war? After all, you can't have two master races on one planet, can you?"

  Grew smiled at the thought. "God only knows. For the short run, they probably would have divided up the world between them; but, in the long haul, I'm certain they would have fought for each other's portion.

  "One other thing," Grew added. "They hate being called Japs. They vastly prefer the word Japanese. Jap is a term they consider an insult. It's almost like referring to them as niggers."

  King laughed hugely. "Well, ain't that too goddamn bad. They should've thought of that before they started this war."

  Grew continued, "Gentlemen, in Japan we have a military-ruled society that considers itself superior to other races and nations and is destined to rule the world. Japan considers any other peoples to be inferior to them, and that includes other Asian and yellow-skinned people as well as whites and blacks. They define the Chinese as barbarians, and the Koreans they control are virtually enslaved. The Okinawans are considered second-class citizens, as are several peoples of the islands north of Japan.

  "When Japan took Formosa in 1895 and Korea in 1910, they were profoundly shocked when the inhabitants of those lands wouldn't see things their way. This caused the Japanese to react harshly to this inconceivable situation. It is consistent with how they later behaved in Manchuria, the Philippines, China, and elsewhere. They are baffled and infuriated when someone disputes what they religiously feel is their right of primacy in a world destined by God to be Japanese."

  "Jesus," muttered Byrnes.

  "Indeed. Those in charge will not- can not- surrender even though they have been defeated in every definition of the term, and even though they know it. The code of Bushido is sworn to by every officer in the army and navy. In it he promises to never retreat or surrender. If he does surrender, he is considered dead by his family and government. If a surrendered Japanese soldier should ever be repatriated, he expects to be executed; thus, many of them are quite willing to fight to the death once death is an inevitability.

  "They are a little more pragmatic about retreating. It is recognized as a part of maneuvering and it is an accepted virtue for a commander to save his men for another day. We've all noted that the Japanese fight to the last man only when there is nowhere else for them to retreat to. But a defeated general will often commit suicide in his shame at having failed his code and his emperor.

  "In our recent announcements, we offered to let the Japanese keep their emperor subject to the wishes of the Japanese people, required that Japan be occupied by us, and further required that alleged war criminals be tried by us and, if found guilty, punished. Those officers, those modern samurai who consider themselves descended from medieval warriors and who follow Bushido, simply cannot do this. In fact, they cannot even comprehend what we are talking about. We tell them they must surrender unconditionally when they are not allowed to surrender at all. As to surrendering unconditionally, I'm not certain the concept even translates into their language.

  "They also feel our terms desecrate the emperor. After all, how can the emperor be subject to the will of the Japanese people when he owns them? Although very much a figurehead, Hirohito is titular owner of every person and every piece of property in Japan.

  "Additionally, the occupation of Japan by us is unthinkable according to Bushido. As to them being tried by us for war crimes, that too is inconceivable because they do not feel they have committed any crimes. How can living according to the code of Bushido, and aiding in the destiny of the master race, be any sort of a crime? Unthinkable. All of this goes to the essence of their fears: that Japan and her culture will disappear in the wake of an American victory."

  Truman was aghast. "We plan no such thing."

  "Unfortunately," Grew said grimly, "our words and actions conspire against us. For proof, all they have to do is look and see how we've dismembered Germany and replaced the Nazis with our own administrators. They see that happening to Japan and are terrified. Their propagandists have also done a marvelous j ob of scaring their own population half to death. There are millions of civilians who adamantly believe that Americans are monsters with blood slavering from their teeth, who will rape their women and eat their children alive.

  "Laugh if you will at the absurdity of it all, but think of what we thought the Japanese would do if they landed in California in 1942. Bear in mind too that the overwhelming majority of the civilian population has never seen a European, much less an American. We might as well be from another planet as far as most of them are concerned."

  "Do they all feel this way?" Truman asked, thinking of an earlier conversation in which that same "other planet" analogy was used.

  "No. The diplomatic and administrative officials did not take any oath to adhere to Bushido, and the civilians, like the enlisted men in the army and navy, are stuck in the middle and just do what they're told. Some of the military give only lip service to Bushido."

  Marshall was unconvinced. "Isn't it possible that they're not wanting us to try them as war criminals is nothing more than an attempt to save their own evil skins?"

  Grew shrugged. "Absolutely. As to those who have pledged to die for Nippon, I really don't know how many will actually do that when the time comes. Almost surely a large number will fight, although many of them will be under orders and not necessarily enthusiastic about the idea. The enlisted military are trained very brutally and will obey without thought, while many of the civilian volunteers will be sent to battle under guard and be shot if they falter."

  "Absurd," said Leahy. "The idea of a whole nation committing suicide is not rational. Nor is sending people out to certain death."

  "Why not?" Grew admonished him gently. "We revere Nathan Hale and others who give their lives to save others when they had the chance to do otherwise. And"- Grew turned directly to Marshall and King- "haven't you or your field commanders ever sent someone out to do something that would likely result in their death?"

  "But that's the exception," said Marshall, "while what you're describing is the rule. When we order men to fight a battle, we know that people will die, but we're elated when they don't. We don't have a national policy that requires suicide."

  "Yes," said Grew. "And that is part of the cost of Japan's developing in such an isolated manner. As I said, their sense of values is, in many ways, so alien to us. I'm certain," he added wryly, "they feel the same about us."

  "If their emperor is a god and god wants peace," Truman asked, "why are we still fighting? Why d
on't they obey their god and stop?"

  Grew answered, "Because we should never think of Hirohito as god in the same Judeo-Christian way we were brought up to use the word. At best Hirohito is a demigod, or godlike. He became godlike when he became emperor and not before. When he dies, the new emperor, now a mere mortal, will become godlike. Which brings up a point. Hirohito must avoid being assassinated. If the military doesn't like the god-emperor they have, they are perfectly capable of killing him and putting a new one on the throne. Japanese god-emperors grow old, sick, and subsequently die- or can even be overthrown and murdered- and that's much the way it is with Hirohito.

  "This is a paradox: only the emperor can order the Japanese to surrender. No one else will be obeyed by the fanatics in the Japanese military. We can defeat them and conquer them, but without the word of their emperor, many will not surrender. They have their own intelligence sources and must be aware that we are reducing the size of our military, which they will take as a sign of weakness and be encouraged by it. It will not alter the fact that they are defeated and know it full well, but they will not, can not, surrender. Again, only Hirohito can release them from the code of Bushido."

  Truman stood and looked out the window. "And the fanatics have Hirohito."

  CHAPTER 15

  As he vomited bile onto the ground, former POW Dennis Chambers was happy that at least the diarrhea had let up. He had thought he was doing so well. His diet, one he would once have considered repulsive, had actually been helping him gain strength. The bugs, worms, and occasional mouse, coupled with leaves and grasses, were filling and apparently nutritious.

  He thought he knew what had disagreed with him so violently and vowed never again to eat the leaves ofthat particular broad-leafed plant.

  "Jesus," he moaned, and lay back on the earth and belched hugely. Right now he didn't care if fucking Hirohito himself came by and took him prisoner. After a while he noticed that he had stopped vomiting. Of course, he had nothing in his stomach to puke, but that hadn't kept him from trying before.