Other innocuous vessels had a part to play along the route of advance.
The Nachi Maru and Tsukushi Maru, two submarine tenders, now ostensibly under Allied orders, were ready to respond when needed.
Even the Hikawa Maru no2, a respectable hospital ship, had a part to play in ensuring the mission’s success.
However, when the Niji unit was round the Cape of Good Hope, friendly berths and supply would be much harder to come by.
But not impossible.
The last intelligence received from a South African agent indicated that the U-Boat supply dump at the mouth of the Ondusengo River in South-West Africa, had not yet been discovered. Figures available from the days of the Axis Alliance indicated that upwards of two thousand, six hundred tons of fuel oil were still concealed within the rolling sands.
The Sen-Tokus could make their destination without refuelling, but the two AM class could not, even if all the rendezvous’ in the Indian and Southern oceans went as planned.
When Miwa was satisfied that the briefing was complete, and the men who would carry out the mission were fully on board and enthusiastic, he dropped his bombshell.
Nodding to the Kempai-Tai Major, he indicated that the tape recording should be played.
Miwa called the room to attention.
The strains of ‘Kimigayo’ rose from the single large speaker, and Miwa saw the stiffening and deference that swept through the assembly. A minute passed before the music ended and a disembodied voice declared the identity of the coming speaker.
Shōwa-Tennō… the Mikado… Emperor Hirohito.
“To our good and loyal subjects. After pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in our empire today, we have decided to effect a settlement of the present situation by resorting to an extraordinary meas…”
There were tears.
Many, many tears.
Eyes flashed fanatically, wet with tears, shed for the Empire and for the dishonour of it all.
Eyes shed tears for departed comrades, their loss now clearly in vain.
Lips trembled as emotions battled inside the rigid bodies, each man dealing with the unexpected… the unthinkable…
The words were absorbed, their meaning clear, and the anthem marked the end of the speech and the dreams of a nation.
Miwa spoke softly.
“So, there you have it.”
He walked forward smartly, and stood before the Kempai Tai commander.
“You and your men will now leave. My officers and I have much to discuss.”
The Major looked confused, as this was not what had been discussed.
Miwa continued, in an assertive and formal fashion.
“Shōsa Harrimatsa. You will both leave now to allow us to talk. There is no need for your services. Remain outside this building to preserve our security. That is all.”
The Major bowed and ordered his security force out, eyeing the assembly with suspicion and still not totally sure why he had agreed to the Admiral’s request… order.
The instruction was more than it seemed, which only he and Miwa understood.
The door closed and Miwa turned back to the group.
“Our Emperor has spoken, and to all of us that is a divine order that cannot be disobeyed.”
He walked slowly around the room, weaving in and out of the men that were stood rigidly at the attention.
“But I fear that our Emperor has been misled… lied to… put in a position, a protected and uninformed one, from which he has no knowledge of the truth and actual events!”
He stopped in front of Itaka, the commander of I-1, a man who had lost two brothers aboard the battleship Yamato during its suicide mission.
“It is unthinkable that he would order us to stop fighting now, when so many have given their lives willingly for him… and for the glory of the Empire!”
The words went home and found a fertile resting place in Itaka’s mind.
In other minds, the words also found a receptive resting place and, as Miwa continued to move through the assembly, he saw resolve in each man’s eyes.
Stopping in front of Nobukiyo, the Admiral delivered his final statement on the matter.
“In the light of the obvious deception played upon the Emperor, I see no alternative… no honourable alternative whatsoever… but to continue with the mission that he had entrusted us.”
His eyes burned deeply into those of Nobukiyo, almost inviting a challenge to the veracity of his words.
“We have been entrusted with a special task, one of significant importance to the Empire and its Allies. One outside the normal remits of our glorious navy. There has been no recall… no coded message halting our endeavours… no indication that we are not expected to proceed and discharge our duty to the Emperor.”
His eyes hardened, and the fanatical Admiral delivered his bottom line, moving his face closer to the man who could make all their efforts count for naught, Nobukiyo’s personality and cult following amongst the submariners giving his opinion a weight well above his rank, especially if it came to obeying the spoken word of the Mikado.
“It is our honourable duty to undertake this mission regardless, for the Emperor. There can be no other conclusion.”
Nobukiyo remained silent, his mind in turmoil, dragged in two directions by the words of his Emperor and the words of the Admiral in front of him.
The delay was an age, or seemed it, but Nobukiyo resolved the issue in his mind and bowed stiffly.
“Hai.”
Miwa nodded in relief and spoke softly, his hand grabbing the submarine commander’s shoulder.
“Hai… hai…”
He regained his composure and swung round to face the majority.
“Then we are decided.”
Raising his arms vertically in the air, he screamed with a combination of national fervour and relief.
“Banzai!”
The rest of the room followed him a triple repetition of the salute.
“Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!”
Outside, Major Harrimatsa relaxed and thumbed the safety catch on his Browning 1910FN, indicating that his men could also now relax.
Had they but known it, the submarine officers had experienced a brush with death. QQQ
There was something about the Russian psyche that made the Volga a serious national asset, over and above the physical barrier it represented.
When the Germans had marched into Mother Russia, it was at Stalingrad, on the Volga, amongst other places, that the invincible Wehrmacht had first floundered.
The Soviet capacity to produce the weapons of war had been carted over the large river, and installed in the Soviet hinterland, where it was safe, and could not be reached.
It was in the heart of every Russian, an inspiration and source of pride, and Camp 1001 was protected by its flowing waters.
Men from a number of important sectors of the Soviet war machine had flown into the small airbase at Akhtubinsk on the east bank of the river, looking for a number of special requirements to come together in one place, a search they had embarked on immediately the Germans had been turned back.
Representatives from the office of the People’s Commissariat for Ammunition, the Ministry of Middle Machinery, and the VNIIEF moved around the insignificant corner of the Soviet Empire, finding that their checklists were being rapidly satisfied.
Electricity, environment, concealment, access… the factors were satisfied on all counts, and more.
The preliminary reports cited the satisfactory and favourable elements of the site.
With all interested parties in total agreement, the decision was quickly reached, and the development and relocation plan was presented to Stalin and the GKO.