1945 (51 page)

Hanks looked up from his crouch, concern on his face. "Still nothing."

They tried a third time and again no response. Outpost two was a little more than a quarter mile away and well within the range of the handheld radios. Were they malfunctioning? No, in that case either of the two men would have realized they hadn't heard from Collins in a while and used the backup set each group had. Kerns and Fellows were good guys and wouldn't just be sitting there with their thumbs up their asses.

Shit.

Collins's next alternative was to crawl out there and find them, which he dreaded. It was bad enough that he had to take the men out there when their shift started and return to get them when it ended. At least then he had their replacements with him and wasn't alone. Maybe he should get some help from Lieutenant Morrell? Under any circumstances, he would have to notify Morrell of the problem. The situation was the stuff of nightmares and his fears were as normal as the next guy's. Christ, if only he could see!

The wind swirled and he thought he picked up movement in the distance, maybe a couple of hundred yards away. It couldn't be Kerns and Fellows, it was too broad a sensation.

But it couldn't be the Japs because they always began their attacks with yells and all kinds of noise to inspire them.

His mind raced. It couldn't be the Japs, could it?

Then he realized the cold truth:
the Japs weren't yelling
!

"They're coming," Collins blurted to Hanks, who immediately began making clicking sounds as fast as he could. Kerns and Fellows hadn't answered because they were dead. Now he had to recall his other men and get the hell back to Round Top. There was no time for a phone call to warn Morrell and the others. The Japs might be right on top of him in seconds. He simply began firing into the air. With all need for secrecy gone, the approaching Japanese began to scream and howl like a chorus of devils.

General Homma was frustrated. He was now the de facto premier of Japan and commander of all the empire's armed forces, yet he found himself unable to function effectively in either capacity. Once again his communications officer had sadly informed him that they were still unable to reach Sixteenth Area Army headquarters on Kyushu. Damn the Americans! If they wanted the war stopped, they had to let him restore some semblance of communications so that he could contact his commanders and tell them to cease firing.

He had just completed meeting with Admiral Ozawa, who had taken control of the Foreign Office, where he had ousted Tojo. Field Marshal Sugiyama had killed himself when confronted with arrest, while Admiral Toyoda had disappeared; thus, they had no serious rivals. Many peace-inclined diplomats had been arrested by the previous regime, while others were in hiding, but the remainder, such as Togo and Marquis Kido, were now frantically trying to make contact with the Americans. Ozawa was confident that the Potsdam Declaration could be utilized as a basis for ending the war on terms that would guarantee that the Japanese world would not disappear. It would be shameful, but better than dying uselessly.

Lt. Gen. Shiro Ishii knocked. He entered and bowed. Homma wanted to dislike Ishii for all the despicable things he had done with his chemicals and germs, but the little man with the thick mustache had performed an invaluable service by providing the means to eliminate Anami and would be compensated by being allowed to live. Ishii would disappear.

Homma drummed his fingers on his desk. "Have you stopped the gases?"

"Like you, I have been unable to raise General Yokoyama on Kyushu. I have been able to ascertain, however, that very little in the way of chemical shells or grenades actually made it across the straits to Kyushu, and absolutely none of the bombs. Most are still in vaults here on Honshu or were on boats sunk in the straits by American planes. I now doubt that more than a couple hundred chemical weapons are on Kyushu."

Homma did not consider this entirely good news. Even a little bit of gas used on the Americans might provoke a devastating reaction from them. It was imperative that they somehow reach General Yokoyama and cancel the final phase of Ketsu-go #6, the plans for the defense of Kyushu.

"What about the submarine?" Homma asked.

The submarine, one of the large R-class types, carried a floatplane in a waterproof deck-hangar. The sub had more than enough range to cross to North America. There its orders were to launch its plane, which would be loaded with a number of small ceramic bombs that carried plague-infested fleas kept alive in an oxygen mixture.

"It attempted to leave two days ago. It was sunk by American destroyers."

"Thank God," Homma said, and wondered why he wasn't distressed by the additional deaths.

America was civilized, clean, and possessed excellent medical facilities. After the initial terror, the plague would easily have been eliminated and would only have added to America's fury with Japan . The attempt to spread germs in America had been total madness.

A staff officer interrupted. His expression was one of deep relief. "General Homma, we have finally established contact with General Yokoyama."

Homma virtually ran to the radio set. The reception was weak and distorted by static, but he convinced General Yokoyama that he, not Anami or Sugiyama, was now in charge.

"General," Homma said, virtually yelling to be understood, "you must not use the gas shells you have received."

"I wasn't going to," Yokoyama answered. "Apart from the fact that such weapons are not an honorable means of waging war, there were too few of them to make a difference, and we have no real way of delivering them effectively. I had them put in a cave and the entrance sealed."

Wonderful, Homma thought, such good news. "Excellent. Now, it is imperative that all aspects of Ketsu-go be halted. Do you understand? You must not launch your attacks. Neither your army nor the remaining kamikazes must attack."

After prolonged silence, Homma thought he might have lost contact. Finally, General Yokoyama's voice came through faintly but distinctly.

"My dear General Homma. I deeply regret to inform you that the attacks are commencing as we speak and there is no way I can stop them. The soldiers are marching and the planes are now in the air. The arrow has been fired from the bow. It cannot be recalled."

Collins and Hanks narrowly avoided being shot by their own men as they crawled into the trenches on Round Top. Moments later, two more men from his outposts clambered in, their faces a mixture of relief and terror. No more followed, and it was reluctantly concluded that the four missing men were most likely dead.

"What did anybody see?" Morrell asked. "How many Japs are there?" The men, Collins included, shook their heads.

"We really didn't see much at all," Collins said. "Just a lot of commotion and noise." Behind and below them, the infernal shrieks continued, further emphasizing that no more Americans would be returning from the outposts around Mt. Ugly. "Sorry, Lieutenant, but we weren't in any position to hang around and count noses."

"They're going around us," Morrell muttered. "Open fire into the valley."

Gunfire rang out and rippled down the hill in all directions. It was a joy and a relief to be able to shoot. There was plenty of ammunition, and Morrell had earlier decided there was no point in saving it. Indirect fire against an unseen enemy was nowhere near as effective as shooting a target that was visible, but it would cause some casualties and maybe disrupt the Japs' plans. Similar firing could be heard from other American positions.

"Why aren't they coming?" someone yelled, and Morrell had to wonder as well. According to Collins, they'd been just a little behind him as he'd run for safety.

A Jap mortar shell exploded in their perimeter, followed by others. While they lacked heavy artillery, the Japanese had a large number of the extremely portable 50mm mortars and shells and were using them to effect.

Paul yelled for the company's own 60mm mortars to return fire and ordered the howitzers to open up as well. As the mortars responded, the sergeant in charge of the two pack howitzers told him the Japs were too close for him to shoot at. Effectively, they were under the barrels of his guns.

"They're hugging us," Morrell growled, and Sergeant Mackensen agreed. "Even if the weather breaks, nobody can help us."

Morrell tried division artillery and was told they were busy with other attacks, which he could now hear in the distance, and that the Japs were too close to his position to risk shelling blindly into the gloom and mist.

A plane hummed low overhead. It missed the hill by only a few feet. "Kamikaze!" someone yelled. Seconds later, there was a flash and the sound of an explosion behind them. The kamikaze had missed Round Top but had hit the hill behind them.

"Sonofabitch, that was close!" snapped Collins.

"Get to your men," Morrell ordered. Collins was in charge of a score of men Paul had designated their reserve. They were to reinforce any area where the Japs broke through.

Otherwise, the defense of Round Top consisted of two platoons that faced the front and curved along the sides of the hill. There they met the third platoon, which faced rearward and had the greatest length of ground to cover. Putting most of his defenders toward the front had seemed like the best idea, but now with the Japs hugging the hill and circling behind it, Paul was no longer so certain.

A group of men ran through the rear of the defenses, and Morrell recognized some of them from Ruger's headquarters and heavy-weapons companies. Then he remembered that theirs was the hill behind Round Top, the one the kamikaze had hit.

"Where's the major?" he asked, and was told that no one knew. A Jap plane had landed smack on the command bunker, then the hill had been overrun. The Japs were solidly behind Round Top. At least a couple of dozen men had made it through to him and were welcome reinforcements. Poor Ruger, he thought, then quashed it. If the major was dead, Paul would mourn for him some other time.

"Another plane!" came the cry. This time it was even lower than the last.

"Get down!" Paul yelled as it appeared through the mist. This one was not going to miss Round Top. The explosion of the crash was deafening, and the shock wave passed over him like a hot, sharp wind. Gasoline flamed into a smoky pyre right where his front-facing second platoon met the rear-facing third. Men were down and the trench was destroyed. Now he understood why the Japs hadn't launched their attack. They had been waiting for the kamikazes to soften up the hilltop fort. In the absence of artillery, the Japs were using suicide pilots.

They had succeeded in breaching his defenses. Fully a third of his defensive positions were destroyed, and the main Jap attack hadn't even begun.

Lt. Gen. Matthew Ridgway didn't like dealing with the press. While some of the reporters were pretty good joes, others were nothing but sharks who'd sell their mothers for a story. That is, he smiled inwardly, if they'd had mothers. There were exceptions among Ridgway's compatriots, of course. Patton, for instance, had swaggered and postured for the press, while the late MacArthur always seemed to be onstage and never at a loss for a quote.

The press was, however, safely muzzled in this war and, with few exceptions, understood the need for it and cooperated with the wartime censorship regulations. After all, who wanted to give out military secrets that would cause the deaths of American boys? For that reason, and because the journalists in Bradley's press pool were men of integrity, Ridgway felt fairly comfortable with the men gathered in his office. Long after the war they could write all the books they wanted and analyze to their hearts' content all the decisions others made. In the meantime, every word they wrote was subject to review and removal.

It was a fairly eclectic and highly qualified pool of talent. Wilfred Burchett represented the London
Daily Express,
Theodore White was employed by Time-Life, Hanson Baldwin was from
The New York Times,
and Webley Edwards was a radio correspondent from CBS.

"Gentlemen," Ridgway began, gesturing toward a large map of Kyushu that hung on the wall behind him, "let me give you a quick overview. The Japs have launched major attacks against our positions, primarily along our right flank. This is the area covered by the I Corps, which consists of the 25th, 41st, and 53rd Infantry Divisions. At this time there are no serious attacks against either the marines on our left flank or XI Corps in the middle. It appears that the Japs have concentrated their thrusts against I Corps only, and we first thought their goal was a penetration down to Ariake Bay."

"Can they make it?" Burchett asked.

"Not a chance. They are about seventy miles from the bay and we'll stop them well before they get anywhere near it. We are in the process of moving two divisions from IX Corps, the 81st and 98th infantry, into blocking positions behind I Corps. IX Corps had rotated back into reserve and is close enough to help out. No, gentlemen, their goal is not Ariake Bay. The Japanese are just squandering lives."

"Ours included, I presume," Baldwin commented.

Ridgway winced. "Absolutely."

White raised his hand. "I know it's certainly simpler on a map than it is in reality, but can any of the other units, such as the marines, attack north and swing behind the Japs?"

Ridgway stifled a sigh. Spare me from armchair generals. "Not in enough time to help out. While the Japs have stripped many of their defenses to form for this attack, the soldiers left behind are well dug in and in strongly situated positions. They would hold out for some time, and even if overrun, the mountainous lay of the land would preclude any quick move around the Japanese rear. No, the battle will be fought with the forces currently in place and those I mentioned as moving up to reinforce them."

"And the weather was the primary reason they got the jump on us?" This was from Edwards, and it was evident from his voice that he was used to being behind a microphone as well as a typewriter.