The Twilight Warriors Part 8

Each tracked landing craft, one after another, motored up to the reef, paused, then scuttled like a crab over the barely submerged coral. Plowing back into the sea, it made its final charge to the beach.

In his wallowing amphtrac-amphibious tractor-Ernie Pyle peered ahead through the smoke. So far there had been no enemy sh.e.l.ling of the landing craft. "We had all expected to go onto the beach in a hailstorm of tracer bullets, mortar sh.e.l.ls throwing sand, and artillery sh.e.l.ls whistling into the water near us," he wrote. "And yet we couldn't see a bit of firing ahead. We hoped it was true."

At 0832 came the radio call, "First wave has. .h.i.t the beach!" The thunder of the ships' heavy guns abruptly ceased. Up and down the beach, amphtracs waddled onto the sh.o.r.e, discharging their loads of soldiers and Marines. As soon as each was empty, it turned and motored back over the reef, out to where transports waited to load the amphtrac with more troops.

It was exquisitely controlled chaos. For miles in each direction, hundreds of craft were churning the water like swarms of otters, crossing wakes, coming and going, missing each other by scant feet.

Aboard his flagship Eldorado Eldorado, the Alligator was presiding like a conductor over the vast operation. At Iwo Jima, Turner had been accused by infantry commanders of h.o.a.rding his ammunition, saving it for the coming invasion of Okinawa. Nothing was being held back now. The bombardment of Okinawa was the most intense of any amphibious campaign in the war. Turner's ships had fired more than forty thousand rounds of heavy sh.e.l.ls, breaching seawalls, destroying farms and shacks, razing entire villages. Fighter-bombers from the Fast Carrier Force were sweeping over the island, strafing, rocketing, and dropping bombs.

It was mostly for nothing. Other than a few parked j.a.panese airplanes on the Yontan, Naha, and Kadena airfields, the warplanes were finding few identifiable targets. By all appearances, the island of Okinawa appeared to be uninhabited.

Hundreds of troops were now ash.o.r.e, swarming inland. j.a.panese gunners were still not returning fire, keeping their positions hidden. So far the only enemy counterfire was a few rounds from mortars, which were quickly silenced by the ships' guns. Meanwhile, more waves of troops were arriving, piling out of the landing craft, sprinting to the first available cover.

Despite the lack of resistance, the men on the beach felt exposed and vulnerable. The beach sloped steeply upward in places, making it hard to run with heavy packs and weapons. No one could shake the feeling that the j.a.panese were setting them up. A murderous enfilading fire would surely come in the next minutes from hidden nests in the hills and limestone bluffs above the landing zone.

The fire didn't come. More troops. .h.i.t the beach, and behind them came amphibious transports to disgorge tanks and artillery pieces. The beaches were becoming congested. By 0900, spotter planes reported that advance troops were already several hundred yards inland. U.S. tanks could be seen motoring up the slope of the overlooking hillside. Bulldozers and cranes were a.s.sembling on the beach. Offsh.o.r.e, the long parallel wakes of more than seven hundred landing craft stretched beyond sight.

Still no resistance. No one was ready to believe it. Men stormed out of their amphtracs on the beach, only to find the Marines and soldiers who'd preceded them moving at a leisurely pace, smoking and talking, making their way unopposed up the enemy slope. Nowhere were the killer mushrooms of enemy mortars, the dreaded rattle of machine guns. New arrivals on the beach exchanged wary looks. Where was the horde of fanatical j.a.ps they'd been told to expect?

One of the most astonished was Ernie Pyle. His amphtrac lurched up on the beach, and the ramp dropped open. "We stepped out," recalled Pyle. "We were on Okinawa an hour and a half after H-hour without getting shot at, and we hadn't even got our feet wet."

It was too good to be true. A Marine first lieutenant, Lawrence Bangser, had seen other invasions, and this one didn't feel right. "Either this j.a.p general is the world's greatest tactician," he told a reporter, "or the world's stupidest man."

Time correspondent Robert Sherrod waded ash.o.r.e with the Marines on northern Hagushi beach. He made his way up to a regimental command post. "From the high ground I could see about 1,000 of the 1,400 ships involved around Okinawa. The colonel said that some of his men were browned off because there had been no opposition on the beaches. They had been built up to such a high pitch of combat efficiency that they were bound to feel let down and slightly sheepish. Said the colonel: 'This is the finest Easter present we could have received. But we'll get a bellyful of fighting before this thing is over.'" correspondent Robert Sherrod waded ash.o.r.e with the Marines on northern Hagushi beach. He made his way up to a regimental command post. "From the high ground I could see about 1,000 of the 1,400 ships involved around Okinawa. The colonel said that some of his men were browned off because there had been no opposition on the beaches. They had been built up to such a high pitch of combat efficiency that they were bound to feel let down and slightly sheepish. Said the colonel: 'This is the finest Easter present we could have received. But we'll get a bellyful of fighting before this thing is over.'"

A few minutes before 1000, Marines in the northern sector reported that they were on the edge of Yontan airfield. The battleships and cruisers of the task force had to suspend covering fire because the a.s.sault troops were moving too fast. At 1035, the invaders had reached the edge of the second objective, Kadena airfield. Along the way they encountered only Okinawan peasants, most of them sh.e.l.l-shocked by the barrage. The Okinawans stared at the Americans as if they were seeing aliens from another galaxy.

The fight for the airfields was over quickly. Yontan was seized at a cost of two Marines dead and nine wounded. The capture of the critical airfield happened so quickly it surprised even the j.a.panese. Marines at Yontan watched in astonishment as a dusky-colored fighter with a distinctive red ball on its right wing and fuselage glided down to a landing on the still-uncleared runway.

The Zero taxied up to the flight line. Too late the startled pilot realized what had happened. When he jumped from the c.o.c.kpit with his gun drawn, he was mowed down by the new owners of the airfield.

It was the same story everywhere. Casualties were light. Few units were encountering any significant resistance. By noon both Yontan and Kadena airfields were in U.S. hands. The battle plan allowed three days, and it had taken less than four hours.

One Marine battalion, hunting for j.a.panese defenders, managed to find and kill four. An army colonel sent them a message: "Please send us a dead j.a.p. A lot of my men have never seen one. We'll bury him for you."

The landings continued without opposition. While the invasion force was rumbling ash.o.r.e at Hagushi, another wave under Rear Adm. Jerauld Wright was making a simulated landing further to the south, to draw j.a.panese forces away from the real landing beaches at Hagushi. Wright's decoy unit had all the elements of an amphibious force-a heavy pre-landing bombardment by surface ships, transport ships, and LSTs (tank landing ships) loaded with Marines.

The ruse brought no response from the enemy ash.o.r.e, but it attracted attention from the sky. While the decoy force was still maneuvering for its final approach, a kamikaze appeared overhead. Diving on the cl.u.s.tered vessels below, the j.a.panese tokko tokko plane smashed into the port quarter of LST-884, which had three hundred Marines aboard. Fire and exploding ammunition nearly destroyed the craft before a rescue party from the destroyer plane smashed into the port quarter of LST-884, which had three hundred Marines aboard. Fire and exploding ammunition nearly destroyed the craft before a rescue party from the destroyer Van Valkenburgh Van Valkenburgh were able to board and extinguish the fires. Twenty-four sailors and Marines were killed and twenty-one wounded aboard the unlucky LST. were able to board and extinguish the fires. Twenty-four sailors and Marines were killed and twenty-one wounded aboard the unlucky LST.

At the same time the kamikaze was ramming LST-884, another was crashing into the transport ship Hinsdale Hinsdale, killing sixteen men, wounding thirty-nine, and leaving the ship without power. Tugs came to haul both stricken vessels to the new repair facility in nearby Kerama Retto.

None of this could diminish the Alligator's high spirits. At 1600 he sent a message to Spruance and Nimitz: "Landings on all beaches continued, with good progress inland against light opposition. Beachhead has been secured...Approximately 50,000 troops have landed over beaches...420th Field Artillery Group with two battalions 155-millimeter guns on Keise Shima in support ground troops...Unloading supplies over Hagushi beaches commenced, using LVTs, dukws [six-wheeled amphibious trucks], LSMs [landing ships medium] and LSTs [tank landing ships]."

The chain of command for the invasion of Okinawa was as convoluted as any in the Pacific military structure. Because the Navy had responsibility for the invasion, Adm. Raymond Spruance was in overall charge of the campaign. The officer in command of the ships and men a.s.signed to the invasion was the Alligator, Vice Adm. Kelly Turner. The invading ground force, the Tenth Army, was a mix of Army and Marine divisions, all under the command of a white-haired Army lieutenant general named Simon Bolivar Buckner Jr.

Buckner had not been the choice of Spruance or Turner. Both admirals preferred that a Marine lead the ground forces they put ash.o.r.e on Okinawa. Their first choice was Lt. Gen. Holland "Howlin' Mad" Smith, the cantankerous leatherneck who had led the amphibious a.s.saults on the Gilberts, the Marshalls, Saipan, Tinian, and Guam. Smith had also commanded Task Force 56, the amphibious force that charged ash.o.r.e on Iwo Jima, and had earned the confidence of Spruance and Turner.

But Howlin' Mad Smith had become controversial. At the height of the Saipan invasion, he peremptorily fired an Army division general for what Smith considered to be inept leadership. The incident enraged the Army bra.s.s in Washington, including chief of staff George Marshall, who had never believed that Marines had any business commanding Army units. The Army's resentment went all the way back to World War I, when, in their view, the Marine Corps had usurped the Army's rightful glory on the battlefields of France. At Saipan, Howlin' Mad Smith had reignited the old ArmyMarine Corps feud.

Pacific commander in chief Chester Nimitz, ever the diplomat, moved to restore peace. Throwing a bone to the Army, he vetoed the choice of Howlin' Mad Smith and chose Lt. Gen. Simon Buckner to command the invasion force at Okinawa.

It was a decision Nimitz would have reason to regret.

15

BOURBON AND PUDDLE WATER BOURBON AND PUDDLE WATER OKINAWA

APRIL 3, 1945

For Simon Bolivar Buckner Jr., a few months short of his fifty-ninth birthday, just being being at Okinawa was a personal triumph. By 1945, the handsome, white-haired general was no less a twilight warrior than the kids on the ships and on the beach. Buckner was aware of the controversy over his posting. With minimal battle experience, he had been appointed over a plethora of seasoned combat commanders. at Okinawa was a personal triumph. By 1945, the handsome, white-haired general was no less a twilight warrior than the kids on the ships and on the beach. Buckner was aware of the controversy over his posting. With minimal battle experience, he had been appointed over a plethora of seasoned combat commanders.

Like Douglas MacArthur, Buckner was a West Pointer and the son of a Civil War officer. His father, Gen. Simon B. Buckner, was named after the South American liberator. He had fought in the Mexican War, joined the Confederate side as a brigadier general, and gained infamy for making a hasty surrender to Ulysses Grant. He was exchanged and returned to fight until the end of the Civil War.

Now his son, Simon Buckner Jr., had arrived at his new command after thirty-seven years in the Army, most of it in staff and administrative positions. He'd missed combat in World War I, having spent the duration giving military training to Army aviators. Like MacArthur, he'd seen two tours of duty in the Philippines. He'd been an instructor at various Army schools and, also like MacArthur, had returned to West Point, serving in the mid-thirties as commandant of cadets.

When World War II began, Buckner was a colonel and a division chief of staff with every expectation of a combat command. Instead of going to Guadalca.n.a.l or North Africa, he received a promotion to brigadier general and the unenviable task of defending Alaska-a region one-fifth the size of the United States, with a coastline nearly as long.

Buckner threw himself into the mission of fortifying Alaska. For a while it even seemed possible that the j.a.panese might attempt an invasion. They seized the Aleutian islands of Kiska and Attu and made a thrust at the Dutch Harbor military complex before being turned back by airpower. Buckner played only a minor role in the Aleutian action. For most of three frustrating years he paced the tundra while his Army contemporaries were fighting battles-real battles-in Europe and the Pacific. battles-in Europe and the Pacific.

In June 1944, fate finally smiled on Simon Buckner. Now wearing three stars, he was a.s.signed to command the new Tenth Army, which was being formed for the invasion of Formosa. While he was still a.s.sembling his army, Buckner learned that Formosa would be bypa.s.sed. His first landing would be on Okinawa.

There were other similarities between Buckner and the media-conscious MacArthur. Buckner cultivated an image of himself as a hard-charging, outdoors-living, chest-thumping man of action. A Time Time interviewer profiled him as "a ruddy-faced, white-thatched, driving apostle of the rigorous life." interviewer profiled him as "a ruddy-faced, white-thatched, driving apostle of the rigorous life."

Buckner's favorite drink was "bourbon and puddle water," with which he made his traditional toast, "May you walk in the ashes of Tokyo." The general had a laugh, a journalist reported, that "starts with a little chuckle in his throat, and then he really lets go and shakes the walls."

Now, with the bulk of his army ash.o.r.e on Okinawa, Buckner could allow himself to laugh. To his left, Maj. Gen. Roy Geiger's III Marine Amphibious Corps was rolling like a freight train northward through the Ishikawa Isthmus toward the neighborhood of Kim. Opposition to their advance was virtually nil. It was the same to the right, where Maj. Gen. John Hodge and XXIV Army Corps were marching southward toward Naha, the island's capital.

Buckner had good reason to be pleased, but he knew better than to delude himself. He'd studied the intelligence reports. Somewhere Somewhere on this island were more than sixty thousand j.a.panese troops. Where the h.e.l.l were they? on this island were more than sixty thousand j.a.panese troops. Where the h.e.l.l were they?

They were there. But Buckner's intelligence reports were wrong. Instead of 60,000 enemy troops on Okinawa, there were nearly 120,000, dug into caves, tombs, and spider holes.

The man who commanded this force, Lt. Gen. Mitsuru Ushijima, watched from his observation post at the ancient Shuri Castle as the Americans advanced toward him. They were meeting only sporadic resistance, which was what Ushijima intended. Not until the enemy reached the open paddies and gentle hills three miles short of the first defensive line did Ushijima intend to show his hand. The approaches to the first defensive line were all pre-sited for artillery, mortar batteries, and machine gun nests to deliver enfilading fire on the advancing enemy.

Ushijima's 32nd Army included battle-hardened veterans of the 62nd Infantry Division, which had seen action in China, and the 24th Independent Mixed Brigade from the home island of Kyushu. In addition to his 34,000 regular infantrymen, Ushijima's force had 10,000 troops drawn from the Navy bases on Okinawa. Another 20,000 soldiers-called the Boeitai-were a home guard conscripted from the Okinawan population. Though the Boeitai lacked the grit and motivation of the homegrown j.a.panese soldiers, they were useful for the grunt work of digging emplacements and moving equipment.

Ushijima also had guns, more than any j.a.panese commander of a besieged island had possessed before. Much of the artillery had been destined for the Philippines, but time ran out before it could be delivered. Ushijima had three heavy artillery regiments, a tank regiment, and a regiment of the ma.s.sive 320-millimeter guns that had been used with devastating effect at Iwo Jima. It was no match for what the Americans would bring with them, but for the first time in any of the Pacific battles j.a.panese artillery would be a major deterrent to the advancing enemy forces.

Ushijima had studied the previous invasions-Saipan, Leyte, Tarawa, Peleliu, and most recently Iwo Jima. His old Imperial j.a.panese Army colleague, Lt. Gen. Tadamichi Kuribayashi, had commanded the 21,000-man garrison at Iwo Jima. Outmanned and outgunned, with no hope of reinforcement or replenishment, Kuribayashi had chosen not to contest the American landings. Instead he fought a battle of attrition, resisting the enemy advance from a hidden honeycomb of tunnels, caves, and pillboxes. In the end, Kuribayashi and almost all his garrison went to their deaths.

Here on Okinawa Ushijima faced the same choices. His only option was to turn Okinawa into a Stalingrad for the Americans-a vast b.l.o.o.d.y pit into which the United States would throw lives and resources until they concluded that an unconditional surrender of j.a.pan was not worth the sacrifice. Like Kuribayashi, Ushijima saw no point in wasting precious resources on the beaches. Nor did he believe in suicidal last-ditch banzai banzai charges into the waiting muzzles of the enemy's guns. charges into the waiting muzzles of the enemy's guns.

Mitsuru Ushijima was not cut from the same cloth as most of the bushido bushido-embracing officers of the Imperial j.a.panese Army. Ushijima was a disciplined, fatherly officer who disdained shows of anger. In a departure from the harsh customs of the Imperial j.a.panese Army, Ushijima ordered his junior officers to refrain from striking their subordinates.

Ushijima's second in command, fifty-one-year-old Isamu Cho, was his opposite in temperament. Newly promoted to the rank of lieutenant general, Cho was a fiery warrior with a history of extremist leanings. He'd been a conspirator in an unsuccessful attempt at a military dictatorship in 1931. During the infamous Rape of Nanking in 1937, it was Cho who had issued the orders to kill all prisoners. p.r.o.ne to fits of rage, Cho didn't hesitate to slap subordinates who displeased him.

During strategy sessions in Ushijima's underground headquarters, Cho often clashed with the senior operations officer, Col. Hiromichi Yahara. At forty-two, Yahara was a calm, conservative officer who rejected the bushido bushido notion of suicidal notion of suicidal banzai banzai charges. Such tactics, he insisted, were a stupid waste of lives. He counseled Ushijima that "the army must continue its current operations, calmly recognizing its final destiny-for annihilation is inevitable no matter what is done." charges. Such tactics, he insisted, were a stupid waste of lives. He counseled Ushijima that "the army must continue its current operations, calmly recognizing its final destiny-for annihilation is inevitable no matter what is done."

To Cho, such thinking was timid and defeatist, a dishonorable way for j.a.panese warriors to die. He urged Ushijima to launch a ma.s.sive counterattack, hurl the enemy back to the beaches, and take the offensive in the battle for Okinawa.

The genial Ushijima presided over the debates in his headquarters more like a moderator than a commander. After listening to the impa.s.sioned arguments of both officers, he sided with Yahara. Better to bleed the enemy, making them pay in lives and time for each meter of ground they took.

As the days pa.s.sed, more Okinawans came out of hiding. Gradually they realized that the invaders weren't pillaging and murdering. The Okinawans stared at the American soldiers in dazed fascination.

Ernie Pyle was with a Marine company working its way north when they found a group of natives hiding in a cave. "They were obviously scared to death," Pyle wrote. "After all the propaganda they had been fed about our tortures, they were a befuddled bunch of Okinawans when they discovered we had brought right along with us, as part of the intricate invasion plan, enough supplies to feed them too!"

The honeymoon continued. Nearly a week had pa.s.sed since Love Day, and the Americans were still encountering little opposition. After the tense first few hours of the invasion, the men of the Tenth Army felt almost like celebrating.

Spring had come, the weather was benign, and the island seemed almost friendly. To the old hands who had fought in h.e.l.lholes such as Tarawa and Saipan, the absence of thick jungle and oppressive heat was a blessing. Okinawa had a temperate climate. Its hillsides were covered with pine trees and wild raspberries. Flocks of pigeons fluttered overhead, offering the only targets for trigger-happy soldiers. Troops commandeered bicycles and horses. The most notable casualty of the first few days was a Marine who broke an ankle when he fell off a purloined bicycle.

One day pa.s.sed into another as they made their careful advance across the island, still meeting no resistance. A few civilians, mostly children, approached the soldiers for handouts. Many of the GIs were farm boys from America's heartland. They gazed around at the pleasant landscape, impressed by the efficient cultivation of the arable land. Almost every square inch of tillable ground was neatly terraced and cultivated. It seemed an unlikely backdrop for a great battle.

Meanwhile, several hundred miles to the northeast of Okinawa, in the ocean off Shikoku, Windy Hill had reached a conclusion: he hated hated submarines. They were dangerous, claustrophobia-inducing, smelly steel tubes. submarines. They were dangerous, claustrophobia-inducing, smelly steel tubes.

It had taken Hill less than one full day aboard USS Sea Dog Sea Dog to make this discovery. He had been having dinner in the officers' wardroom when the klaxon sounded: "General quarters, man your battle stations!" to make this discovery. He had been having dinner in the officers' wardroom when the klaxon sounded: "General quarters, man your battle stations!"

The sub had been running on the surface, recharging its batteries. Hill watched with growing trepidation while the captain and all the officers charged out of the wardroom. The sub dove to periscope depth, and minutes later Hill heard the rumble of the forward torpedo tubes firing. The target, he learned, was a j.a.panese submarine that had been sighted on the surface.

Alone in the wardroom with only a steward for company, Hill huddled with his back against the bulkhead, trying to shut from his mind the vision of a torpedo slamming into the hull behind him.

They finally lost contact with the enemy submarine. Sea Dog Sea Dog returned to the surface, and the officers resumed their dinner. Gloomily Hill thought about his fellow airedales back aboard returned to the surface, and the officers resumed their dinner. Gloomily Hill thought about his fellow airedales back aboard Intrepid Intrepid. While he was stuck on this d.a.m.ned boat, they were shooting down j.a.ps, bombing airfields, and collecting medals.

His gloom only deepened when the submarine's skipper informed him that the fun was just beginning. Sea Dog Sea Dog's war patrol would last another five weeks.

16

TEN-GO TEN-GO MITAJIRI ANCHORAGE INLAND SEA OF j.a.pAN

APRIL 5, 1945

Perched in his command chair on the sixth deck of Yamato Yamato's bridge tower, Vice Adm. Seiichi Ito watched the crew preparing the battleship for departure. Ito had been one of those who loudly opposed the operation, now called Ten-Go, which literally meant "heaven number one." Ito, in fact, thought the whole tokko tokko strategy was stupid, not for moral reasons-he was as much a samurai as the superpatriots-but because it was a waste of precious resources. j.a.pan's warriors-and their weapons-should be saved for the final battle in the homeland. strategy was stupid, not for moral reasons-he was as much a samurai as the superpatriots-but because it was a waste of precious resources. j.a.pan's warriors-and their weapons-should be saved for the final battle in the homeland.

But Seiichi Ito was, above all else, a loyal officer. Now that the decision was made and the orders received, he had committed himself to the success of Ten-Go. He commanded the Imperial j.a.panese Navy Second Fleet and, with his flag aboard Yamato Yamato, would lead the task force into battle against the Americans.

Seiichi Ito was fifty-four, a tall, stooped man with a square-cut, rugged face. Like his fellow admirals Toyoda and Oikawa, Ito had spent most of the war in Combined Fleet and Imperial j.a.panese Navy general staff a.s.signments. All his requests for a major sea command had been denied. To Ito, it now seemed a stroke of irony that his first sea battle would, in all probability, be his last. It would probably also be the last for the Imperial j.a.panese Navy.

Ten-Go would be the first of a series of ma.s.sed kamikaze attacks called kikusui kikusui, which meant "floating chrysanthemum." Like most j.a.panese war plans, the enchanting label masked a macabre strategy. The name came from the heraldic device of the fourteenth-century warrior Masashige Kusunoki, who personified the cla.s.sic self-sacrificing warrior. According to legend, Kusunoki, obeying the command of the emperor Go-Daigo, led his army into certain death against vastly superior forces. Surrounded by the enemy and his situation hopeless, Kusunoke and six hundred of his surviving troops committed seppuku seppuku-the samurai ritual suicide by disembowelment.

The kikusui kikusui attacks were supposed to emulate Kusunoki's sacrifice, but on an even grander scale. Involving more than two thousand attacks were supposed to emulate Kusunoki's sacrifice, but on an even grander scale. Involving more than two thousand tokko tokko aircraft, they would attack the U.S. fleet in ten waves. aircraft, they would attack the U.S. fleet in ten waves.

The kikusui kikusui operation had been envisioned purely as a series of airborne operation had been envisioned purely as a series of airborne tokko tokko attacks directed from the Kanoya base by Admiral Ugaki. No one had suggested that they be accompanied by a surface attack of Imperial j.a.panese Navy warships. attacks directed from the Kanoya base by Admiral Ugaki. No one had suggested that they be accompanied by a surface attack of Imperial j.a.panese Navy warships.

Not until a few days ago. Now the mighty Yamato Yamato and her entourage were about to embark on their own and her entourage were about to embark on their own tokko tokko mission. mission.

Aboard New Mexico New Mexico, Adm. Raymond Spruance read the decoded message. It had been transmitted that afternoon, April 5, from the Imperial j.a.panese Navy Combined Fleet commander to the commander in chief of the Second Fleet. Like almost all j.a.panese military communications, the intercepted message was deciphered by U.S. cryptologists in Makalapa, Hawaii, then flashed to Chester Nimitz's headquarters in Guam, where it was relayed to Raymond Spruance off the sh.o.r.e of Okinawa.

It was the official order for an operation called Ten-Go.

Yamato and the Second Destroyer Squadron will sally forth in a naval special attack via Bungo Channel at dawn of Day Y-minus-one; at dawn of Day Y they will charge into the seas west of Okinawa and will attack and destroy the enemy's invasion fleet. Day Y will be 8 April.

The intercepted report came as no real surprise to Spruance and his intelligence officers. For the past week reconnaissance aircraft had observed the j.a.panese fleet maneuvering in the Inland Sea as if preparing for the long-expected breakout. That they were coming through the Bungo Strait, the wide pa.s.sage between Kyushu and Shikoku, was also no surprise. Their only other route would have been westward through the narrow Shimonoseki Strait, between the tips of Honshu and Kyushu, which were dangerous waters for a warship the size of Yamato Yamato. The strait was shallow, only 10 fathoms in places, and had been sown with mines by B-29 bombers. The strait was already littered with the hulks of unlucky ships that had stumbled into mines.

So the Imperial j.a.panese Navy fleet-what remained of it-was coming out to fight. To an old battleship sailor like Spruance, it presented a tantalizing possibility. He could send Task Force 54, Rear Adm. Mort Deyo's formidable array of battleships and cruisers, to confront the j.a.panese in what would likely be the last great surface engagement of the war. Or he could use the more expedient weapon-the warplanes of Marc Mitscher's Fast Carrier Task Force.

Or both, and let the quickest take the prize.

In either case, he had more to worry about than the Yamato Yamato surface force. He also had a report that the j.a.panese would be timing the surface attack with a simultaneous ma.s.sive air a.s.sault and a counterattack from the j.a.panese ground forces on Okinawa. The battle for Okinawa was heating up. surface force. He also had a report that the j.a.panese would be timing the surface attack with a simultaneous ma.s.sive air a.s.sault and a counterattack from the j.a.panese ground forces on Okinawa. The battle for Okinawa was heating up.

The crew of the Yamato Yamato stopped in midstride. The voice of their executive officer, Capt. Jiro Nomura, was booming over the bullhorn: "Distribute sake to all divisions." stopped in midstride. The voice of their executive officer, Capt. Jiro Nomura, was booming over the bullhorn: "Distribute sake to all divisions."

It was an announcement seldom heard aboard a warship of the Imperial j.a.panese Navy. On this, the eve of Yamato Yamato's last battle, both Nomura and Yamato Yamato's commanding officer, Rear Admiral Ariga, had decided to memorialize the occasion. Except for a skeleton crew of lookouts and duty officers, the crew of Yamato Yamato was going to have a monumental party. The galleys were ordered open. Cooks were instructed to break out all the extra rations. There was no longer a need to keep the best food and drink in reserve. Crates of sake were opened and bottles distributed to all the divisions on the ship. was going to have a monumental party. The galleys were ordered open. Cooks were instructed to break out all the extra rations. There was no longer a need to keep the best food and drink in reserve. Crates of sake were opened and bottles distributed to all the divisions on the ship.

The cooks prepared delicacies of sekihan sekihan, a red bean paste, and okashiratsuki okashiratsuki, sea bream served with the head still intact, all washed down with vast quant.i.ties of warm sake. Emboldened by alcohol and the brash hubris of youth, the sailors on the mess decks were making boisterous toasts, drinking to one another's death.

Whether any of them actually welcomed welcomed death was immaterial. By training and upbringing each was ensnared in a complex code of loyalty to his fellow sailors, his family, and ultimately to the emperor. The fear of disgrace held more sway over them than the fear of death. death was immaterial. By training and upbringing each was ensnared in a complex code of loyalty to his fellow sailors, his family, and ultimately to the emperor. The fear of disgrace held more sway over them than the fear of death.

One of the celebrants on the mess deck was eighteen-year-old Kazuhiro f.u.k.u.moto. It took only a couple of sakes, and the inexperienced young sailor was soused. f.u.k.u.moto was finding it hard to take all this mawkish talk about honor, death, and disgrace seriously. He was convinced that Yamato Yamato was unsinkable. It was an unreasoning belief, a gut feeling that came just from being aboard such a dreadnought. How could a warship of this size and firepower be sunk? It was impossible. Sure, in the thick of battle some of the crew might be killed by bullets and bombs. Still, the odds were in his favor. Given the number of crew aboard, his chances of being one of those killed were very slim. was unsinkable. It was an unreasoning belief, a gut feeling that came just from being aboard such a dreadnought. How could a warship of this size and firepower be sunk? It was impossible. Sure, in the thick of battle some of the crew might be killed by bullets and bombs. Still, the odds were in his favor. Given the number of crew aboard, his chances of being one of those killed were very slim.

He hadn't discussed Yamato Yamato's mission with his parents, who lived in Kure, Yamato Yamato's home port. With most of the crew, f.u.k.u.moto had been given a few days' sh.o.r.e leave to say farewell and settle his affairs. He'd had dinner with his parents and younger sister and told them to watch after his things while he was gone. For f.u.k.u.moto, it wasn't an emotional farewell. He didn't expect to be away for long.

In the officers' main wardroom, they were drinking not only sake but real Scotch whisky, part of the loot seized from the British after the capture of Singapore nearly four years earlier. Someone had pulled out the hand-cranked turntable, and they were singing along to the scratchy music from their collection of 78-rpm vinyl records. Even the skipper, Rear Admiral Ariga, and the executive officer, Captain Nomura, showed up, each bearing a huge bottle of sake.

Most of the officers were drunk, and Ariga, known as a hard drinker himself, was no exception. Forty-eight years old, Ariga had been in command of Yamato Yamato for only four months. He was a stern but fatherly commanding officer, revered by most of his young sailors. Their nickname for him was "Gorilla," for his stout, ungraceful build and hairless head. for only four months. He was a stern but fatherly commanding officer, revered by most of his young sailors. Their nickname for him was "Gorilla," for his stout, ungraceful build and hairless head.

For once the stiff formality of navy protocol went by the boards. Nomura was swept up in a mock scrimmage, his jacket getting ripped. Junior officers took turns thumping Ariga's bald, dome-shaped head. It was a wild, one-of-a-kind bash.