Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II (45 page)

When Nambu resurfaced that evening, the
I-400
was nowhere to be found.
³⁰
The weather was good, the ocean remained calm.
³¹
The
I-401
’s communications officer busily transcribed messages, hoping for news about the
I-400
. There was none though and foreign broadcasts continued to be alarming.

It was still difficult for Nambu to take them seriously; surrender seemed impossible. But when the communications chief handed him a transcript of the emperor’s broadcast his hands shook in disbelief.

“Could they possibly be this stupid?” he exclaimed. Then he barked, “Do not tell the crew!”
³²

Ariizumi was so infuriated, he didn’t finish reading the Imperial Rescript. Whether he already knew what it said, or could not
bear the news, Nambu wasn’t sure.
³³
It made no difference either way. Both men were ready to attack.

Orders from Japan followed quickly after that, though none of them made sense. One instructed the 631st air group to prepare a final defense of the Japanese homeland.
³⁴
Another confirmed that peace had been declared but instructed all submarines to execute their predetermined missions and to attack the enemy if discovered.
³⁵

That was enough for Ariizumi. He was finished waiting. The
I-401
submerged and set a course for Ulithi. The empire might have surrendered, but Ariizumi had not. He was going to complete his mission.
³⁶

The
I-401
was going rogue.

A
RIIZUMI
’
S DECISION TO GO ROGUE WASN
’
T SURPRISING
. E
VEN
though the emperor had expressed his desire for peace, only a cease-fire had been declared; an actual surrender agreement was still three weeks away.
¹
In the meantime, anything could happen, and the incoming messages weren’t helping.

The orders Ariizumi received were confusing and contradictory. Importantly, no order explicitly canceled the Ulithi attack, let alone told him to stand down. In fact, one of the orders mentioned that “submarines should execute their missions as planned.”
²
This meant the Ulithi attack was still on.

Besides, Ariizumi didn’t take commands from the emperor, he took them from Sixth Fleet. Since the Sixth Fleet hadn’t ordered him to cease combat operations, it was reasonable to assume the sub should proceed with her mission.

It’s also important to remember that Ariizumi had been raised within the traditions of the IJN. Born to a navy family and educated at Etajima, he was a product of his upbringing. He’d been a line commander, attended the Naval War College, and served as an NGS staff officer. Everything he believed in, worked for, and fought for was centered on serving the IJN. If Japan’s cause was just, backed by celestial will and divine guidance, then it was his job to see that they triumphed. The word
surrender
wasn’t in his vocabulary.

There was also the problem of war crimes. Ariizumi had played a central role in the Indian Ocean massacres. Allied protests had already resulted in his interrogation. Still, it’s doubtful that Ariizumi
chose to continue the attack to avoid being tried as a war criminal. Killing prisoners might have been sickening, but he understood the reason for doing it. Besides, an officer of the Imperial Japanese Navy never disobeyed an order, and Ariizumi was dutiful if anything. Even if his decision to attack went against the emperor’s wishes, going out in a blaze of glory would be Ariizumi’s way of accepting responsibility for Japan’s defeat. Fear of being prosecuted as a war criminal had nothing to do with it.

Ariizumi was a patriot. If the emperor in all his benevolence had decided Japan must capitulate in order to survive, so be it. But Ariizumi’s honor was at stake, and honor is a powerful motivator in any culture. Yes, he’d sworn allegiance to the emperor, but if Japan had failed after many years of war, the failure was Ariizumi’s. If victory was impossible, then his only recourse was death in defense of the empire. It was the honorable thing to do.

Nambu agreed with Ariizumi. He too found surrender inconceivable, though he reacted as much out of anger as conviction. And they weren’t the only ones to feel this way. Acceptance of the cease-fire agreement was far from uniform in Japan. Approximately 600 military personnel, mostly officers, committed suicide over the disgrace.
³
Others resisted in different ways. Most notable was the attempted coup d’état staged by Maj. Kenji Hatanaka on the evening of August 14, designed to prevent the emperor’s speech from being broadcast. Hatanaka and his men stormed the Imperial Palace searching feverishly for the phonograph record with the emperor’s recording. Though Hatanaka surrendered four hours before the emperor’s broadcast, the incident showed just how difficult it was for true believers to accept defeat.

And Ariizumi was a true believer. As commander of the last operational Sixth Fleet unit,
⁴
he wasn’t willing to lay down his sword. He’d been charged with a top secret mission, the last offensive action of the war. When it came time to make his decision, Ariizumi chose to proceed as planned. In 24 hours, they’d launch against Ulithi.

M
ASAO
O
KUI, THE
I-400
’s cook, knew something was wrong when the senior officers ignored their food.
⁵
It was the evening of August 15, and he was serving dinner in the wardroom. Food was a high point aboard the sub, so it was unusual when somebody refused to eat. The entire senior rank was so dispirited, they hardly lifted their
hashi
.

Kusaka had chosen not to inform his enlisted men about the emperor’s announcement. It was the captain’s prerogative to withhold information, but Kusaka did so because he was having trouble accepting the news himself. He’d told his senior officers, of course, instructing them to keep quiet. Since orders from Japan were contradictory, he thought it best to see how things developed first.
⁶

When the
I-400
surfaced after sunset the next day, Kusaka finally received a message to cease combat activities and return to Kure.
⁷
Instead of complying, he took the sub down to periscope depth and assembled his senior officers. Even though his orders were clear, their opinion still mattered to him. Losing the war was unprecedented. Kusaka wanted to know what his officers thought they should do.

The
I-400
’s chief navigator was first to speak. He argued they should attack Ulithi because it would be shameful to return to Japan. The
I-400
was only hours from launching her
Seiran
when the surrender announcement came, it would be easy to resume their plans. If they survived, they could launch other attacks against the enemy, commandeering food and fuel along the way. If capture appeared imminent, they could always scuttle the sub.
⁸

Takahashi had the opposite reaction. The chief navigator was too quick to sacrifice the crew, he argued. Some of the officers might want to fight, but many of the enlisted men would want to go home.
⁹
If the chief navigator wanted to die, fine, but why should the rest of the crew be deprived of their lives?
¹⁰
Importantly, Japan had surrendered. What was the point of dying if they’d already lost? Of course, the naval command had made a grievous error. Starting a war it couldn’t win had been foolish. Now that they’d admitted defeat, everyone should return home as quickly as possible.

Kusaka listened quietly with his eyes closed. When all his officers
had had their say, he retired to his cabin to think things over.
¹¹
It didn’t take him long to make up his mind. He soon reassembled his officers to tell them they were returning to Kure.
¹²

Though not everyone agreed with the choice (some officers even contemplated jumping into the sea wearing weights if they were captured),
¹³
there was palpable relief. Kusaka informed the rest of the crew by intercom. Many were surprised by Japan’s defeat, but they were equally shocked to have survived the war. Takahashi was in the happy-to-return-home camp.
¹⁴
At least he wouldn’t be throwing his life away to satisfy someone else’s notion of honor.

The next morning Kusaka set course for Japan. It’s unknown whether he feared capture because he’d massacred prisoners, but he certainly took precautions. Traveling underwater by day, Kusaka surfaced only at night, when the sub could go her fastest.
¹⁵
Obviously, no self-respecting sub captain wanted to surrender his boat to the enemy. The ignominy could only be worsened by being captured in international waters. Ideally, they’d make it back to Japan without being spotted, where they could quietly melt into the countryside. If worse came to worst and they were intercepted, it had to be in Japanese waters. Otherwise, the loss of face would be too great.

T
HE
I-14
WAS
awaiting another recon patrol when Shimizu received a transcript of the emperor’s speech.
¹⁶
He had his doubts about the message, just like the other sub captains. He even considered sailing to Singapore as originally planned.
¹⁷
But when the
I-14
was ordered to cease combat operations, Shimizu gathered his officers and read them the edict.

Lt. Michio Takamatsu, the
I-14
’s gunnery officer, was crushed by the news. This was how German naval officers must have felt at the end of World War I, he thought. Germany had paid a heavy price after the war, and Takamatsu feared the same for Japan.
Shoganai
, he said to himself—there was nothing he could do.
¹⁸

Some of Shimizu’s officers entertained wild ideas, like blowing up the sub or attacking Saipan.
¹⁹
When the Sixth Fleet ordered the
I-14
to return to Yokosuka,
^*
Shimizu finally accepted that the war was over. The news might have depressed him, but he was ready to comply. It was time to go home.
²⁰

As the
I-14
departed Truk, one of its reconnaissance planes circled overhead. Though he accepted the cease-fire, Shimizu was intent on avoiding capture. Navigating underwater by day, he darkened the
I-14
’s navigation lights when traveling on the surface at night. His priority was to “bring every last crewman safely back to the mainland.” The only way to do it was to avoid the enemy.
²¹

Meanwhile, tempers were running hot in Fukuyama. Some of the 631st’s younger officers wanted to commandeer a boat, pack it with weapons, and attack Allied ships in the Tsushima Strait. It was a joke at first. Then Lieutenant Yamamoto found a boat, loaded it with supplies, and headed for the Inland Sea with a few supporters. Things didn’t end there, however. The air group’s maintenance chief was so upset by the emperor’s broadcast, he threatened suicide. Thinking more clearly, he packed his bags and deserted the unit instead. His colleagues took mercy on him since his Hiroshima home had recently been destroyed. Two men went to bring him back. The incident was indicative of the difficulty many had embracing defeat.
²²

T
HE
I-401
’s
S
EIRAN
were readying for their attack on Ulithi when Nambu received orders to cease all combat activity. The blanket message was quickly followed by another specifically canceling the Ulithi mission. SubRon 1 was now ordered to Kure.
²³

It was nine o’clock the evening of August 16 when Nambu learned the attack had been canceled.
²⁴
The order had come not a moment too soon, since the sub was close to launching her planes. Had the message arrived seven hours later, an attack so provocative
it could have endangered the cease-fire agreement would have commenced. As it was, the
I-401
barely avoided disaster.

There were no rules in the Japanese Navy for dealing with surrender. The samurai code taught that when given a choice between surrender and death, it is best to choose death. Imperial Naval tradition reinforced this thinking, but Nambu was too relieved to kill himself. It might have been cowardly, still he was glad to be alive.
²⁵

After receiving orders to stand down, Ariizumi convened a meeting in the
I-401
’s wardroom, with Nambu and his senior officers in attendance.
²⁶
It had been nearly two days since the emperor’s announcement, a seeming eternity in the minds of those who knew the truth. Now, as they squeezed around the wardroom table, their faces shiny with sweat, the officers of the
I-401
expressed their opinion about what to do next.
²⁷