Then he told them that his travel back to Hawaii by ship had been fraught with danger because of the ever-present menace of American submarines. “But we did not fear them, even though they did sink several in our convoy,” he said boldly as it sank in on his audience that Japan did not rule the oceans. He had further told them that the supply line from Japan to Hawaii was as tenuous as the line from Japan to the troops in China. Hawaii was out on an indefensible limb, and many looked nervously at one another.
“I believe that soon Hawaii will be annexed to the empire of Japan,” Akira said. “When that happens, I will rejoice. That means that the Americans will be forced to fight a decisive battle against us, and, despite their material assets and the overwhelming size of their country, we will prevail. No matter how devastated Hawaii is as a result of the coming battle, we will win. It won’t matter how many thousands of tanks or planes they have, or how many hundreds of warships they hurl at us, it won’t matter. Hawaii’s cities and farms may be destroyed, but we will rebuild. Tens of thousands of Hawaiians may die, but Japan will be victorious.
“Some of you have seen the factories and shipyards of America, and, while Japan has nothing like them, Japan does have the courage of her people, who are willing to die in their millions to secure their country’s future. America’s vast material superiority will amount to nothing. Even if Germany is defeated by the Allies and we have to face the combined might of the United States, Great Britain, and China, we will be victorious. It doesn’t matter that America’s army now numbers in the millions and its soldiers are not like the drunken louts who were stationed here and were defeated, they are not Japanese.”
As he finished to tepid applause, he saw that most had understood clearly and were looking at him with new respect. He had told them that the Japanese army was inept and guilty of the worst imaginable atrocities. Japan was doomed, and a mighty battle could easily be fought on and for the islands. Simple numbers told them that the United States had a population a third larger than Japan’s. Combine that with Great Britain’s, and add the vast but incompetent legions of China, and an ugly picture of a war of attrition was drawn. Japan might be able to distance herself from China’s hordes but never from an angry and vengeful United States and Great Britain.
Later that evening, Akira and his father met with a select handful of young men in the back of a dry-cleaning business owned by Toyoza Kaga. Guards watched for unwelcome guests while the two kempetei slept away in their beds. The alcohol had been augmented by a mild narcotic, and they would not awaken for anything less than a volcano.
For this group, Akira was even more specific. “Japan has been accused of terrible atrocities in the war with China. Let me tell you that they are all true. I volunteered for Japan’s army because I thought her cause was just and the empire was good. I no longer think that. I saw what happened in Nanking with my own eyes. I saw women and children raped and murdered by the thousands. I saw Chinese men bayoneted to death for no reason other than that they were Chinese. To my shame, I took part in those evil actions. I killed helpless people and raped innocent women.”
He tried to block out his memory of a terrified woman who had submitted to him while her baby whimpered.
“Perhaps,” he said bitterly, “the loss of my leg was in payment for my sins.”
Kentaro Hara was an old friend and peer of Akira’s. “Would it have been saved if Japan’s army had provided decent medical support?”
“Probably,” Akira admitted. “Infection set in after a while. We had to use bandages salvaged from the dead and then washed as best as we could.”
His friends were appalled. “And our troops are really that bad?” Hara asked. “Japan’s army is noted for its discipline. What is happening?”
“Madness,” Akira said, “and incompetence. I did what I did in a moment of rage and fury. We had been fired on from a village, and a friend of mine was killed. In other instances, the replacements from Japan aren’t up to the level of the men they are replacing. The second-and rear-echelon soldiers are little more than half-trained criminals who have been conscripted and abused, and who have no wish to be in China. There have been incidents of soldiers murdering their own officers.”
That brought gasps, and even Toyoza Kaga was surprised.
“What can we do?” Hara asked sadly. “Japan will be defeated and the Americans will be on us in a rage for revenge.”
Akira smiled. “That is why we are here. We must organize and be ready to support the Americans when they invade. They must be made aware that not all Japanese support Tokyo. Not all are old fools or young radicals, like I was. We must be willing to pay for their understanding with our blood.”
“Excellent,” Hara said with an enthusiasm that surprised both Akira and Toyoza, “but how will we let them know we are here, and what should we do? It is rumored that Americans are active on Hawaii. Do we have a means of contacting them?”
Toyoza Kaga spoke for the first time. “I will work on that,” he said innocently and saw the look of comprehension on the others’ faces. When they laughed, he knew that Akira had chosen well, and he was proud of his son.
Lieutenant Goto fully agreed that punishment had to be given out for the deaths of Major Shimura and his guard. The second guard might yet die from his wounds, and his fate, whether he died or not, was part of the planned retribution.
What did surprise Goto was that Admiral Iwabachi had overruled Colonel Omori regarding its severity. Iwabachi wanted blood for the harming of his men and he wanted it in copious amounts, while Omori urged relative restraint. Deaths had to occur, but Omori wanted far fewer than Iwabachi did, and he wanted the native Hawaiian population insulated from the reprisal. It struck Goto as ironic that the admiral was endorsing acts not dissimilar to those that had seen him banished to Hilo.
The new commander of the Hilo garrison was Captain Isamu Kashii, and he held the post by virtue of being more senior in rank than the other captains. In his mid-thirties, Kashii was a firebrand and a fanatic, totally the opposite of the late, unlamented, and cowardly Major Shimura. Kashii wanted to kill Americans, and Goto wanted to help him.
A hundred men and women were chosen from the population. People of Japanese extraction were.excluded from the reprisal, but, regardless of his orders, Hawaiians were not. When Goto had commented that the Hawaiians were likely to be sympathetic to Japan, Kashii had told him it didn’t matter. They were all suspect in his eyes. Kashii could not even begin to comprehend the thought of the assassin being a lone warrior. He was vehement that the murderer had to have had help.
This was more like it, Goto had exulted. Shimura had been a pussy, afraid of his own shadow and more interested in entertaining himself with booze and drugs than in searching out the Americans. Let the blood flow.
As a result, the hundred doomed men and women had been chosen, some at random and some because they hadn’t shown enthusiasm for the Japanese cause, then interrogated with utmost brutality by Goto and some of Kashii’s men. Many couldn’t walk and had to be helped into the sunlight by those who could, while several were blind. Their eyes had been gouged out. The remainder of the Hilo population had been ordered to witness the punishment, and there was an audible moan by the assembled thousands as the tormented victims were led to the place of death.
Ten thick wooden stakes had been driven into the ground. They rose more than six feet tall and stood in front of a higher wall of sandbags. A Model 92 heavy machine gun mounted on a tripod stood about fifty yards away, while the two-man crew looked grimly at the empty stakes.