Marshall nodded. "There are other reasons why a blockade wouldn't work. It would cause millions of civilian deaths among the Japanese from bombing and starvation, and it still wouldn't necessarily cause them to quit. After all, they are capable of providing for their own food needs, however meagerly. It is possible that, after enough deaths, they would arrive at a food-to-population equilibrium that would enable them to sustain themselves forever."
Truman shook his head in disbelief, but the basic idea seemed chillingly correct. There was no certainty that blockade would bring victory. Not ever. "We cannot wait an eternity to find out. Gentlemen, we cannot wait more than a year and there must be action. The American people demand it."
"Agreed," said Marshall, and the others murmured assent. "It goes without saying that our prisoners of war would continue to suffer terribly during this period of time, and that other casualties would still occur. There is ongoing scientific work on defoliants that would destroy the Japanese rice crop, but we will not have the herbicide in any quantities until next year at the earliest. If we do use defoliants, then the result will be tens of millions of Japanese men, women, and children dying of starvation along with our own prisoners, who would, of course, be the last to be fed."
"Which leads us back to an invasion," sighed Truman.
"Yes, sir, it does," Marshall almost whispered, and it struck Truman that the man was upset at the prospect.
"Thank you, General," Truman said. With undisguised distate, he picked up Operation Downfall's thick folder of information as well as the summary sheets. He hated reading long reports. He recalled that he'd had to be talked into reading an earlier report on the Manhattan Project shortly after taking office. "This, I presume, is current?"
"Yes," said Marshall. "At least as it has been developed to date. Changes are being made almost constantly."
"Do these changes include using atomic bombs?" Truman asked.
"Yes, but it is doubtful that we will have enough bombs or targets to make a difference," Marshall said. "The Japanese are scattering, hiding, and digging in their units to minimize the effect of both conventional and nuclear weapons."
"So we have to do it the old-fashioned way?" Truman asked bitterly.
"Yes, sir."
Truman glanced over the figures. It was an awesome enterprise. In scope it would dwarf the landings in Normandy on D-Day. No other Allied forces would land with MacArthur's army, although some Royal Navy ships were operating in the Pacific in conjunction with Nimitz. Discussions that might lead to the later inclusion of British, Australian, and Canadian troops were ongoing, but there were no plans to use them at this time.
"Well thought out. Should we attempt to deceive the Japanese into thinking we won't attack Kyushu?"
"Yes, sir," Marshall again responded. "And those efforts are called Operation Pastel. They involve feints at Korea and Formosa, as was discussed as our first option, along with a sham thrust toward the island of Shikoku, which is actually closer to Tokyo than Kyushu, but, again, out of land-based air coverage."
Truman understood what he was hearing. The inescapable conclusion was that Kyushu was the only logical target. If the American military minds could realize that, so could the Japanese. "Gentlemen, will any of our deceptions work?"
Marshall 's expression changed to one of sadness. "Probably not, sir, or at least not to any great extent, but they must be attempted."
"Then, General Marshall, what will the Japanese be doing on November first, 1945?"
Marshall found it difficult to look Truman square in the eyes. "Mr. President, they'll be waiting for us on Kyushu with everything they have."
Chapter 17
Religion amused Col. Tadashi Sakei. Once it had been important to him, but that was when he had been very young and before so many of those he loved had been incinerated by the Americans. Since then he had seen the uselessness in believing in any god or gods who cared nothing for him. Thus, he became a convert to the cause of Japan and believed in it with zeal and fervor. Japan did care for him. Japan had nurtured and strengthened him. Japan was his god. Now he would repay her faith in him by protecting her with his life.
On the other hand, he did nothing to discourage religious beliefs in others. It mattered nothing to him whether a person believed in the gentle Buddha, the ancient rites of Shinto, or even the confusing and ridiculed logic of Christianity. All that was important was that the believer dedicate his or her life to Japan.
Thus, placing Emperor Hirohito in protective custody in a Shinto shrine near Nagasaki was an act of opportunity and expedience, not sacrilege. The Americans rarely attacked anything that looked religious, and he had gone to great lengths to keep his five-hundred-man Imperial Guards battalion dug in and out of sight during the day. Lookouts scanned the skies in all directions to watch for the enemy, who could drop like hawks on unsuspecting prey.
Shinto stood for the "way of the gods" and was the oldest religion in Japan. Devotees worshipped many gods, called kami, which were the basic force present in trees, rocks, rivers, and other parts of nature. Japan was liberally sprinkled with shrines, and this was a fairly large one with several buildings, including a charming garden that had been well tended by the priests who had run the shrine.
Sakei had chased off the religious occupants and installed Hirohito in the quarters of their senior priest. It was hardly palatial, but it was safe and secure. The buildings also kept most of his men out of sight while the others camped in a nearby grove and, to the extent possible, limited their movements to nighttime, when even the American predators slept.
As he started to walk the dirt path to the nearby village, Sakei was confident that American planes would not notice one man walking along one of the miserable excuses for roads that were so typical of Kyushu. He looked to his right and was dismayed by the sight of a score or so of his soldiers running in a single line across a field. It was probably a work group, and he made a mental note to find out who was in charge of them. He would give that unfortunate soul a harsh lesson in the virtues of staying out of sight during the day. Their officer probably thought it was safe to cut across the field since none of their hand-cranked sirens had gone off in a while, as they did several times each day to warn of American planes prowling the sky.
Sakei ignored the virtually omnipresent and high-flying bombers as they were off to bomb the cities and other major targets, but the swooping and darting fighters and dive-bombers were another matter. They were the ones that sniffed out the smaller targets and went after them like birds of prey after rodents in a field.
Sakei looked down the road and saw the man he wished to meet, Captain Onichi, the senior kempei officer in the area. In deference to the fuel shortage, the overweight captain rode a bicycle, with some difficulty, and a rare smile crossed Sakei's face. He had no love for the kempei, but the secret police, or "thought police," had their purpose. He could only wonder, however, just why the fat kempei captain wished to meet him under these private and discreet circumstances.
Before he could go farther, a dark shadow crossed over Sakei, and he heard the shriek of engines as the gust of air swirled dust around him. It was an American plane and it had passed just a few feet over his head.
He watched in horror as the work party scattered in blind panic with many of them heading for the presumed safety of the shrine buildings. Perhaps the plane hadn't seen them as it swept by, but then he remembered- the Americans never flew alone.