Read The Final Storm Online

Authors: Jeff Shaara

Tags: #War Stories, #World War; 1939-1945 - Pacific Area, #World War; 1939-1945 - Naval Operations; American, #Historical, #Naval Operations; American, #World War; 1939-1945, #Fiction, #Historical Fiction; American, #Historical Fiction, #War & Military, #Pacific Area, #General

The Final Storm (20 page)

BOOK: The Final Storm
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Cho started to speak, and Ushijima interrupted him, knew that the major would get a lashing for no good reason. It was Cho’s way, bombast and fear, as though no one would do their jobs without the crack of his whip.

“Thank you, Major. Have all the line commanders communicated with us?”

“Those in the south, yes, sir. We have been unable to reach Colonel Udo.”

“No, I suspect not.”

Cho stepped forward, pointed at the northern part of the island.

“Udo will do his duty. He will bloody the enemy and drive them into the sea!”

Ushijima did not respond, moved close to the map. He had studied every detail of the geography, stared at the curving lines that represented the hills over the northern half of the island. Udo will fight with what he has, he thought, and we can give him nothing more. He knew Udo well, had studied alongside him at the Imperial Military Academy. But Udo had shown very little of the dignity Ushijima had expected, seemed to spend his energies endearing himself to General Cho. Colonel Udo was said to have brutalized the Okinawan civilians in the north, which kept many of them from willingly serving the army as much-needed laborers. Ushijima had planned that the north be lightly defended, and so Udo was given that command, which kept Udo out of the way from the more critical defenses in the south. Ushijima understood that he did not have the luxury of replacing Udo with another experienced commander. If Udo’s
bad habits
got in the way of his performance against the Americans, Ushijima just didn’t want to hear about it. After a long silence, Ushijima said flatly, “Colonel Udo knows his duty. He will do what we have asked him to do.” He glanced at the paper, troop movements, brief reports from several of the field commanders, all communicated through the radio room nearby. “The American Marines are driving northward, which will weaken the forces who face us here. That is the best we can do with the resources we
have. We shall continue to strengthen our position in the south, using this part of the island to our advantage. I expect Colonel Udo to do what he can against the Marines, engaging them at every suitable opportunity. His greatest duty is to allow the passage of time, to keep the Marines far from our strongest point.”

“He shall succeed! And he shall accomplish much more! I am certain of it! Sir!”

Ushijima ignored Cho’s bombast once more, studied the southern half of the island.

“I am greatly pleased with the work we have done to strengthen our defensive lines.” He turned to Cho. “You are pleased with the strength of our lines, yes?”

Cho seemed not to notice the change of subject.

“I accept the shame we must endure by fighting from the defensive, sir. But I must admit that our men have shown the kind of spirit we must have, even as they bring shame upon their ancestors.”

Ushijima felt his patience slipping, but there were too many ears in the offices around him, and he would not reveal any anger to the staff, to the many secretaries who labored close to the map room. He held his breath for a short pause, fought to calm himself.

“There will be no shame for any soldier who kills his enemy. You would agree with that?”

“Oh, most definitely, sir! I should expect my own death to come while taking ten or a hundred of the enemy with me! I can think of no greater gift …”

“I would rather not have this army meet their ancestors just yet. Even the most junior private understands that if we are
all
dead, there is not much of a fight we can offer.”

Cho seemed unwilling to respond, and Ushijima knew the moment had come.

“You are dismissed, General. Thank you for your counsel. Your spirit is most valuable to this army, and I trust you will continue to inspire our men. Perhaps you should inspect the caves closer to the Naha airfields. That is a key position in our defenses … in our quest for
victory
. I will have no weakness there. Do you agree?”

Cho seemed to brighten.

“Sir! I will inspect the Naha caves. There will be no weakness! I will stand that ground myself, if the enemy requires it!”

Cho turned crisply, was gone, and Ushijima felt himself sagging, his usual reaction when Cho left the room. He glanced at the two officers, silent, respectful, and he thought of returning to the tea. He stared at the map once more, the thick chalk line across the island’s waist. The ground shook slightly beneath him, and he heard a distant rumble, an echo that drifted through the vast network of caves.

“Those are our guns, yes?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Excellent. I must take time to mention this to Colonel Yahara. He has done a magnificent job in building these positions.” He moved out into the corridor, thought, I must also apologize to him for ordering Cho to march out there and stare over his shoulder. But one officer’s pleasure often comes at another’s grief. Right now I have had enough grief for one day.

He looked into one of the smaller offices, an aide snapping to attention.

“Summon the guards to escort me to the opening of the primary cave.”

“Right away, sir!”

The man hurried out of the office, and Ushijima saw the others looking up at him, two women, backed by three other men, all of them sitting at small desks, papers stacked neatly in front of them. He knew they were dealing with the enormity of the supply problems, finding the means to move food, water, and medical assistance where it was most required. He felt a stab of guilt, knew that those in the north could not be reached at all. Two nights earlier they had attempted to launch small boats in the darkness, carrying food and ammunition northward along the east side of the island. But the Americans were vigilant, patrol boats with searchlights scouring every beach, every cove. Ushijima had not heard anything more from the small flotilla, had to assume that the Americans had destroyed them. So, those men in the north will fight with what they have.

The guards were there now, eight men, heavily armed, stiff at attention. He moved past them, knew they would allow him ten meters before they marched behind. It was the usual routine, ordered of course by General Cho. Ushijima accepted the added security grudgingly, thought it ridiculous, had yet to hear any reports of assassins lurking in the cave beneath the castle. But he had learned to save his energy for the battles that mattered.

To save power, the offices were dimly lit, and he moved past the doorways quickly, did not want anyone’s show of fealty. The thick mustiness of the deeper caves gave way now to fresher air. He glanced to one side, another, smaller corridor, and he changed course abruptly, knew the guards would adjust. Yes, I will see this for myself. Another sharp thump rolled through the corridor, much louder, and he was carried forward by the power, the energy of that. Talk is tiring, he thought. There is much more value in artillery fire. If these men are firing, it means they have a target. I should like to see it. He laughed silently, hid the smile. Cho will tell them I have visited their battery because I am so brave.

The passageway narrowed, and he saw hazy sunlight, heard voices, a quick shout, men suddenly scrambling into position to one side of their gun. He knew he had surprised them, regretted that, had no interest in a show of obedience to some mindless inspection. He wasn’t there to see the men at all. The officer stepped forward, and Ushijima put up his hand, said, “Captain, please relax your men. I am here to examine your field of fire.”

The man stood straight, a perfect show of respect.

“As you wish, sir. You honor us with your inspection!”

Ushijima knew the man, one of his former students at the military academy, knew the man’s family as well. He stepped past him, glanced at the mound of new ammunition, thought, General Wada has done his job, certainly. He will not leave any one of his batteries unprepared.

The piece was one of the larger cannons in Ushijima’s arsenal, a 150. The long, heavy barrel was supported by two spoked wheels, which rested on thick wood planks that led straight to the mouth of the cave. He stepped past the muzzle of the cannon, the smoke thinning, felt the heat from the barrel, moved close to the mouth of the cave, the opening shrouded by camouflage cloth, just a small hole visible.

“What is your target, Captain?”

The man moved up beside him, said, “Sir, we have put several rounds toward that destroyer closest to the shore. They have foolishly moved into range.”

“Have you been … successful?”

“We … uh … no, sir. I was attempting to adjust the range when you arrived. But I shall do what I must until the enemy has been destroyed. I am confident in these men, sir. We can destroy every ship in the enemy’s fleet.”

“Is that so? Then please tell me why you have not already done so?”

The captain seemed surprised at the question, and Ushijima stared out again, did not like embarrassing the man.

“Sir, I apologize. We shall find the proper elevation. My orders are to attack targets as they present themselves. Most of the enemy fleet is well beyond the range of this piece. The destroyer moved within acceptable range …”

“Never mind, Captain. You must follow the orders you have been given.”

“Sir, permit me to inquire …”

“About what?” The captain hesitated, and Ushijima looked at him, knew he had been a good student, had a serious mind for military studies. “I assure you, Captain, General Cho is nowhere close. Ask what you wish.”

“Sir, I have heard that the Imperial Air Force will arrive here at any time. The reports say that the enemy fleet will be forced to abandon their ground troops by sailing away, and if they do not, their ships will be destroyed. My men … the others in our battery are greatly pleased to hear that. I was wondering if you could reveal when this might happen. I do not wish to expend ammunition if it is not called for. We shall require every shell if the ground troops approach our field of fire.”

Ushijima appreciated the man’s logic, but the question was infuriating.

“Captain, you have heard no
reports
. What you have heard is
rumors
. The Imperial Air Force, along with the Imperial Navy, has been assuring me for many days now that the enemy fleet is to be utterly destroyed by vast waves of our finest planes and a mighty armada of our finest warships. They have not yet provided me with a timetable for such a wonderful scene of destruction.”

The man bowed.

“I understand, sir. It is not my place to know such details. I should not have asked about matters beyond my responsibility. Please forgive my impudence, sir.”

Ushijima absorbed the man’s words, thought, he believes it still. Perhaps they all believe it. And perhaps that is a good thing, good for morale. I wish I believed it.

T
HIRTY-SECOND
A
RMY
H
EADQUARTERS
B
ENEATH
S
HURI
C
ASTLE
, O
KINAWA
A
PRIL
6, 1945

It was his favorite lookout, the wide opening of his primary cave, safe from enemy fire only at night. During the day the opening that dug straight into the mountainside was covered by the thick mat of camouflage, designed to look exactly like the brush that surrounded it. Despite the shattering carpet of explosives the Americans had draped across the area, the opening had seemed to escape detection by the American spotters completely.

The sun was just beginning to set, the western sky a blaze of pink and orange, the reflection on the ocean broken by the shadows of the American ships. He held a teacup, heard nothing from the security guards standing in rows behind him, lining both sides of the corridor.

“When this is over, I should look forward to sharing moments like this with all of you. You have been loyal and efficient. Perhaps if I am allowed to return to teaching, some of you would consider attending the Imperial Military Academy. It would require the recommendation of someone in … authority.” He turned, saw the surprised faces. “I suppose I qualify.”

The lieutenant closest to him bowed deeply, said, “Thank you, sir. From all of us. We shall leave this place with the enemy’s blood on our swords. I would be honored to learn the art of war at your hand.”

“Your loyalty is appreciated. All of you.”

Ushijima said nothing more, knew very well he would never see the academy again.

The day had been rainy, but the storms had cleared now, remnants of clouds to the south. He knew that the poor weather had been to his advantage, the rains deepening the mud that would slow any advance by the Americans. For his own men, the rains provided much-needed fresh water, which was lacking in most of the caves. With the setting sun, his work details waited near the mouths of the many caves, preparing for darkness, when they could retrieve the tubs and empty the cisterns. They had learned long ago that there were few wells anywhere near the mountains, but the army had its needs, and on Okinawa the wells were on flatter ground. Thus, whether the farmers offered up the water on their own, the soldiers knew where the wells were found. But carrying the precious water to the caves was a long and treacherous job by night, and nearly impossible
by day. The American fighters had continued their patrols, and so far the thunderstorms had been too brief to ground the fighters for long. Each time the thunderstorms subsided, they had come again, a swarm of blue bees rising up from the distant aircraft carriers. Once it was dark the soldiers could emerge from underground once more, not to do the actual work, but to supervise the legions of laborers. They were Okinawans mostly, along with the Koreans and Chinese that had been brought over to assist in Colonel Yahara’s enormous construction projects. Any hope of building a pipeline had long been dismissed, Yahara as certain as his commander that the American bombs would destroy it in short order. So the laborers hauled the water in buckets. Ushijima had warned his officers not to brutalize the Okinawan farmers, that their work in the fields was essential to providing food for his own troops. He knew the order had been disobeyed, suspected that General Cho had overseen some of the occupation of the farmhouses for officers who remained out beyond the caves. Reports were many that Okinawan homes had been established as comfort stations for the officers, local women and their daughters hidden away with one purpose, to serve the needs of his men. He had known of such things in China, and everywhere the army had been, most of the High Command blithely looking away, as though such activities were completely acceptable, so long as the women were not Japanese. Ushijima had forbidden this behavior around his own headquarters, knew that the women he saw daily in his offices were performing valuable work. Others, mostly Okinawan, were serving the army as nurses, a service that could only grow more crucial as the days passed. I cannot stand guard over everything this army does, he thought, no matter how stupid. The best officers are those who are educated, and in this army there are too many who have risen to the ranks because we have no choice but to put them there. Too many good men are gone, and the luxury of choosing one’s own subordinates has long passed. The field officers who worship men like Cho have learned only the ways of the training camps, conscripts taught to be soldiers by sergeants who exercise the authority of the whip and the fist. The soldiers perform their duties because they are afraid not to. It has become the way of this army, and that is stupid as well.

BOOK: The Final Storm
12.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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