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Cuttlefish -> RE: Small Ship, Big War (8/29/2008 12:53:00 AM)
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June 21, 1944
Location: Tokyo
Course: None
Attached to: TF 23
Mission: Air combat
System Damage: 2
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 475
Orders: Await further orders
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Lieutenant Miharu is standing on the bridge when he spies a naval staff car rolling down the pier. It stops near the base of the gangway. The driver, a staff officer by his uniform, gets out and goes around to open the door for his passenger. When the passenger emerges the lieutenant sucks in a sharp breath.
“Captain,” he says, and something in his voice brings Captain Ishii over immediately. Ishii takes in the scene and then begins fastening the buttons on his coat.
“This should be interesting,” he says as he reaches for his cap.
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Ensign Konada is currently the officer of the deck. As the stocky man in the white uniform comes up the gangway he feels himself starting to sweat. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and double-checks his uniform. As always the young ensign looks ready for a parade ground. Wait, is that a spot on his left shoe? Horror fills Konada but there is no time to do anything about it. The visitor has reached the top of the gangway. Konada snaps and holds a perfect salute.
“Permission to come aboard, Ensign?” the newcomer asks mildly.
“Granted,” says Konada, and to his relief his voice doesn’t squeak at all. “Welcome aboard Hibiki, Admiral Yamamoto.”
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Near the end of the inspection Admiral Yamamoto and Captain Ishii stroll together. The ship is not in the immaculate shape Ishii would want for such an inspection but all things considered Ishii is pleased. He runs a tight ship and it shows, even while they are taking on supplies and doing minor repairs.
“Very nice, Captain Ishii,” Yamamoto says. “I apologize for appearing unannounced in this fashion.”
“It is your prerogative, sir, to appear when you please,” says Ishii. “No apology is necessary.” The two men exit the aft deckhouse and move towards the stern.
“I have been meaning to do this for some time,” says Yamamoto. “Today seemed suddenly like a good day. I have spent too many days lately in offices and briefing rooms. I needed to feel a deck under my feet and smell grease and fuel oil and fresh paint. Making a surprise inspection seemed excuse enough to get away.”
“We are glad to help, sir,” says Ishii. The men stop at the stern and Yamamoto turns to face Ishii.
“Hibiki has compiled an enviable record,” he says. “You have engaged enemy ships at Kuching, at Wake, three times at Gili Gili, and at Luganville. You have sunk seven enemy ships or submarines and can claim partial credit on four others. In addition you participated in the battles of the Phoenix Islands, of Timor, of Exmouth Bay, of Santa Cruz, and of Woleai. No merchant vessel under your protection has even been damaged, much less sunk. Am I leaving anything out?”
“No, Admiral,” says Ishii. He is proud of his ship’s record and proud that the admiral has taken time to review it.
“When this came to my attention,” says Yamamoto, “I had to ask myself why the captain of a ship with such a record remains a lieutenant commander. So I asked around. You have a reputation for speaking your mind to the wrong people, it seems.”
“Yes sir,” says Ishii a little uncomfortably.
“Good,” says Yamamoto. “Good. Then you are a man I wish to talk to. Tell me, Ishii, what do you hear from your sailors and other officers about the fact that the fleet remains in port while the enemy attacks the Marianas?” Ishii braces himself. As he looks at Yamamoto’s broad and impassive face it is obvious that the admiral is looking for the truth.
“Sir,” he says, “no one is happy about it. We hear that many enemy ships have been sunk in the battle. We know that our fleet is still strong. It is very hard to sit here while others fight, knowing that allowing the enemy to gain a foothold in the Marianas imperils everything. There is a lot of grumbling, sir.”
Yamamoto nods slowly. “Yes,” he says. “I hear it from above, too. They say the same thing in the Imperial Diet and at the Ministry of War. Many want me removed.” Ishii says nothing. After a moment Yamamoto goes on.
“But I think that I have divined our enemy’s intentions,” says Yamamoto. “They do not intend to threaten the Philippines, or Java or Borneo, or anywhere else. No, they are aiming straight at Japan itself. And to do that they must capture Iwo Jima. That is where we must fight them, Ishii, where we can bring our full power to bear. That is where the final battle will be fought. We have to preserve our strength for that battle. It is the only one now that truly matters.”
Yamamoto is now gazing out to sea as he speaks, gazing south. Ishii gets the feeling that that the admiral has almost forgotten his presence.
“I have had a strange feeling lately,” Yamamoto continues. “It is almost as if I am living somehow on borrowed time. Let them remove me if they can. Until then I will continue to do my job as I feel I must.”
Ishii remains silent. A breeze ruffles the water off the stern and from somewhere nearby comes the cry of a gull. After a long moment Yamamoto turns back around.
“Thank you, Captain Ishii,” he says. “I appreciate your candor. I fear I must return now before my staff notices that I have escaped and comes in search of me.”
“We have been honored by your visit, sir,” says Ishii. He means it.
The two men walk forward. There Hibiki’s crew has assembled. They stand at attention in silent rows along the rail, on the foredeck, and on the torpedo and gun decks. Admiral Yamamoto stops at the top of the gangway and at Lieutenant Miharu’s order they salute in unison. Yamamoto looks up and around at their faces and somehow every man aboard feels as though the admiral looks straight at him. Then Yamamoto returns the salute before turning and descending to the pier. The crew remains at attention as the admiral’s car backs up, turns, and drives off out of sight.
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