1945 (50 page)

"But, sir, Hirohito may make public announcements for the Americans, even calling for surrender. What then?"

Anami slammed his fist on his desk. "They will be denounced as lies and fabrications. We will inform the world that Hirohito is dead and that his son Akihito is the new emperor, and that I have been appointed regent. We shall simply ignore anything Hirohito does and says for the Americans. We will announce that, after murdering him, the Americans have hired an actor to pretend he is the emperor."

Amazing, Genda thought. How could Akihito be proclaimed emperor of anything when no one knew where he was? Anami's control of Japan was far from absolute. Genda forced a smile. "Excellent. But how will that enable us to win the war?"

Anami chuckled. "Why, Captain, we have already won the war. This attempt by the Americans to undermine the Empire shows how bankrupt they are. Our counterattacks will begin very shortly and they will bleed the Americans so badly that they will sue for a peace that leaves us strong."

"And if they don't?"

"Then we will fight on, Genda. We will fight on forever. We will never surrender and be destroyed as the Americans have planned for us."

"Good. Then I will return to my duties with greater zeal."

Genda stood and bowed. The cast on his arm threw him off-balance and he nearly stumbled. He grasped the edge of Anami's desk for support while grimacing in pain.

Anami rose quickly and steadied him. "Genda, are you all right? Perhaps you should see a doctor before going back to duty?"

"I'm all right," Genda insisted.

As he said that, the hand encased in the cast squeezed a rubber bottle, which emitted a puff of misty fluid that hit Anami square in the face. For a second, the general appeared puzzled. Then his eyes widened and he began to choke and spasm soundlessly. He sat down hard on his chair and slumped forward. Genda waited a moment. There was no need to check for a pulse. He only wanted to be sure that it was safe to proceed.

The mist was a nerve gas, a particularly virulent derivative of a German gas called sarin that General Ishii had managed to bring with him from Manchuria. It killed on contact with the skin by paralyzing the nerves. It also evaporated into the air and lost its potency almost immediately, which made it useless on the battlefield, yet marvelously lethal in this instance.

Finally, Genda was satisfied that enough time had passed and that it would be safe to handle the general without fear of contamination, particularly since the air vent in the underground office had been humming and pulling out stale air. "Help!" Genda hollered. "The general has collapsed. Help!"

The door opened and others rushed in. They pulled Anami off his chair and laid him on the floor. At least two checked for a pulse that wasn't there, then started pushing on his chest as if that would start his breathing again.

General Homma rushed in from his own office down the hall and took command, chasing out gawkers. Only a couple of men who continued to try to revive Anami remained. "What happened?" he asked Genda.

Genda spoke clearly. It was imperative that his version be told and heard first. "We were talking when he suddenly clutched his chest and pitched forward. He didn't make a sound. He just fell over and didn't move."

Homma nodded and responded firmly, "A doctor has been summoned, but for what purpose I don't know. It appears that General Anami has suffered a heart attack or a stroke." He looked at the faces assembled just outside the open office door. Many looked stunned, but some appeared strangely hopeful. "I am senior here," Homma went on, "therefore, I am assuming command. You will return to your duties and continue as before. Captain Genda, you will follow me and make a brief statement for the record."

Genda's statement to a clerk was a formality. Anami was dead of a massive heart attack probably brought on by the immense strain of his duties. In a few minutes Genda was aboveground after watching Homma begin to take over the reins of the Japanese government. Only the plotters knew that a coup had just occurred, and that Homma and Ozawa were part of it. As part of their plans, "emergencies" had sent both Admiral Toyoda and Field Marshal Sugiyama away from the headquarters.

Even though political assassination had been a macabre kind of Japanese tradition in the decades prior to the war, Genda deeply regretted that necessity had forced him to do it. Genda was a warrior, not a murderer. Anami had been a warrior too before he had succumbed to the madness that was keeping Japan in the war. Now Genda would inform his friend and mentor Admiral Ozawa that his mission was completed.

Even now, General Homma was setting more wheels in motion. There were others to round up or dispose of before a new government could be formed under General Homma and Admiral Ozawa. A government, Genda hoped, that would bring an end to the war that was destroying Japan.

As he walked toward his hidden vehicle, he chuckled. Who on earth was also plotting the overthrow of the government? Despite his disclaimer, he felt that the kidnapping of Hirohito must have had high-level help for it to have succeeded so neatly. He earnestly hoped that the various sets of conspirators didn't get in each other's way.

The weather on the flight deck of the
Midway
continued wet and miserable. Despite this, both men had dressed formally and intended to be photographed without overcoats. It was important that they be seen as dignified heads of state, and not as ordinary people scuttling about in the rain.

Equally important was the need for a background that would convince the Japanese people that the emperor was both respected by the United States as a head of state, and that he was still in Japan. A picture of him anywhere else might be interpreted as his having fled the land and would mean his disgrace and the failure of his historic mission.

At first there had been hope that something in the city of Kagoshima could be used as a background, but little was left that was more than three feet tall. Weeks of hard fighting, coupled with the flimsy construction of most Japanese buildings, had resulted in an appallingly unrecognizable collection of ruins.

Then Undersecretary of State Joseph Grew thought of using Mt. Kagoshima as a background. While hardly as well-known as the snowcapped extinct volcano Mt. Fuji , it was well enough known to those who lived in the area as it dominated both the bay and the city. At any rate, it would have to do. The emperor and the president could only hope that enough Japanese soldiers would recognize the background as being uniquely Japanese and then be impressed by the message.

The weather refused to cooperate, though. Rain and large flakes of soft snow obscured the view of the mountain from the carrier. A photograph near the side of the flight deck could be posed to show nothing of the carrier, which might indicate that Hirohito was a prisoner, and all of the mountain, which would indicate that he was free. If only, of course, they could see the damned mountain.

Truman paced back and forth in the small room off the superstructure where he and Admiral Nimitz waited. "We can't stay here forever. Why not just take some pictures and get on with it."

"If it comes to that, we will," Nimitz answered wearily. He desperately wanted to get the
Midway
and Truman out of the area. "But I agree with Mr. Grew and so does Hirohito. We need to get that mountain in the background if there's any way we can."

"But we can't wait too much longer," Truman insisted. Indications were that the Japanese counterattacks would begin at any time if they hadn't started already. Who really knew what was going on in the misty hills beyond the bay? If it was too late to stop all the bloodshed, then they could at least stop some of it.

"Still think we should shoot the little bastard," muttered Halsey. Truman stifled a grin. The belligerent little admiral's thoughts weren't all that far from his own. He still had a hard time accepting that there was nothing Hirohito could have done to prevent the current phase of the war from ever starting in the first place, much less stopping it without outside help. Truman wondered if the emperor hadn't gotten a sort of religious conversion when he'd realized the war was lost. Perhaps he was actually maneuvering to keep his throne and for a place in history as a great humanitarian.

But, Truman thought, who the hell cares? End the war and worry later about what should have been done.

The phone rang and Halsey answered. "There's a break in the weather," he said as he hung up. "If we act right now, we might get some good pictures."

Truman and the two admirals raced out onto the flight deck, while Hirohito and Grew came from another room. Grew was the only person on the carrier Hirohito knew, and he had firmly refused to let the diplomat out of his sight. The former ambassador spoke fluent Japanese, which made him doubly valuable.

Hirohito and Truman took up stations by the edge of the deck. It occurred to Truman that, with just one little shove, one small emperor would suddenly find himself in the middle of a deep bay. The thought made him grin.

Cameras were hurriedly set up. In the background, the bulk of Mt. Kagoshima had become visible.

"Now," the photographer said. A movie camera was set up alongside the still photographer. It had all been well rehearsed. The two leaders stood beside each other, close but not touching. They would not shake hands as such contact was repugnant to Japanese males. They smiled and appeared as equals while the cameras whirred and clicked. More pictures were taken of them bowing toward each other at a depth that signified utmost mutual respect. Most Americans had little idea that a Japanese bow was filled with meaning. Too deep a bow and one signified subservience to the other; too shallow and it indicated dominance over the other. The bow had to be just right to convey the proper message of equality.

Several more pictures were taken while the light and the view remained. Halsey looked about nervously. If he could see the mountain, the Jap pilots could see the
Midway
. Granted the skies were filled with scores of American fighters and radar indicated nothing hostile in the area, but he remembered what happened to the
Augusta
and MacArthur. Halsey didn't want to go down in history as the admiral who lost the president of the United States. If the little Jap standing beside Truman got shot up, well, that was okay, but not the president of the United States.

"That's it," Truman said. "We have enough pictures and I'm freezing my butt off."

Grew translated the comment to Hirohito, who grinned and nodded. Truman wondered just how literal the translation had been and whether the emperor was a little less of a stick-in-the-mud than he appeared.

The executive officer of the carrier ran out onto the flight deck to intercept the group of men. He looked at all the assembled rank and directed his statement to Truman.

"Sir, we're receiving a broadcast from Tokyo. It says that Anami has been overthrown and that Admiral Ozawa and General Homma are now in charge. They're also saying they want to talk peace."

A Jap attack on Round Top could come from three directions. It could come from over the hill known as Mt. Ugly , or around either side of it. Because of the poor visibility caused by the rotten weather, a series of two-man listening posts had been established at each of the three points, with a fourth outpost coordinating and commanding the three.

Sergeant Collins had been in the command-outpost foxhole for several hours and longed for his watch to end. Along with being wet, cold, hungry, and miserable, the situation was scary. The weather remained bad, it was night, and he couldn't see more than a hundred feet in front. The thought that Japs could be just out of his view was unnerving at best.

But that, of course, was why he and Private First Class Hanks, his radioman, were in the hole. It was far better that he and the others in the outposts be overrun by a horde of Japs than that the entire company suffer that fate. It had sounded faintly heroic when it had been discussed back on Round Top. Now it sounded foolish and downright stupid.

Small, wireless walkie-talkies connected the four outposts to each other. As the closest to Round Top, Collins also had the luxury of a field phone connecting him with the rest of the company. Phones were not considered good ideas for the three forward outposts because the wires could be cut or even stumbled upon by the Japs and used to trace back to an outpost itself.

Communications with the three posts were limited to clicks, not words. Collins's command post would send one click out, and a one-click response meant everything was okay. The command post would then send one back as confirmation that the signal had been received. In case of possible danger, the men in an outpost would click twice and withdraw from their exposed position. They didn't have to wait for a response. A series of three or more clicks meant that everybody should run like hell. The posts were to respond to the clicks from Collins every few minutes. It was hoped that the discreet and muffled sounds would not carry.

The system was far from perfect. Several false alarms had led to precipitous retreats back to Round Top. These had been followed by sheepish crawls back to their positions by the men who'd just run from them. Lieutenant Morrell hadn't chewed out anyone for his actions, but the continued unnecessary alerts caused stress and fatigue. Collins chewed his gum and wished for a cigarette. Why the hell wouldn't the Japs come and get it over with?

It had been several minutes since the last outpost check. "Hit 'em, Hanks," he whispered.

Hanks grunted, crouched over the walkie-talkie, and made a clicking noise with his mouth. A few seconds later he looked up. "One reports okay, Sarge." He returned to his task. Then there was a pause. "Nothing from two."

"Do three." Two was at the crest of Mt. Ugly, while the others were on the lower ground flanking it.

"Three's okay. Should I try two again?"

"Of course." Collins's mind raced. Was something wrong? A delay in responding had happened before, and he'd chewed ass for it. People were supposed to pay attention, not scare him half to death.