“What the lieutenant has failed to get at, and what I’m trying to tell you, is that, while the Kurita is what you will be shooting at, it is not the target. We have learned that the Kobe Naval Shipyard supervisor and several hundred of his leading managers and specialists will be aboard Kurita for her sea trials. They are your real targets and the chief objective of this operation. Take them out and the Kobe Naval Shipyard, the best the Japanese have got, will fall flat on its face. Without their experienced managers, morale will drop, production will slump — and that means poorer quality work and fewer ships that our boys will have to fight in the future.”
It was now clear to Tremain why Giles wanted to hamper rescue operations for the Kurita survivors. He suddenly thought of those hundreds of flailing bodies he had left in the water after Mackerel had sunk that transport off Mogami Bank. Now he was being ordered to kill non-combatants and leave them to the mercy of the sea. The thought made him sick.
“These are civilians, correct, sir?” Tremain asked.
“Yes, civilians indeed. Does that bother you, Tremain?”
Giles asked the question like he was questioning Tremain’s manhood.
“I’ve just never intentionally targeted civilians before, sir. That’s all.”
“You’ve been sinking merchant ships for over a year now. Most of their crews are civilian. What makes this any different?”
“Well, the target was always the ship, sir. The intent was not specifically to kill the crews.”
Giles sighed, then glared at Ireland. Giles appeared to be fast growing annoyed with Tremain’s questions. He was obviously a man who had justified everything in his own mind and had no patience for those who could not see things his way.
“Think of it this way, Jack,” Ireland chimed in, “these are not simply civilians. These are the men that produce weapons and warships to be used against Americans. They’re a valuable element of Japan’s war machine. Targeting them is no different from targeting, say, a factory or an ironworks like we’re doing right now with our bombers over Germany.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Tremain, this operation has the approval of the Commander in Chief himself,” Giles added, “and it falls within the guidelines of the international rules of war.”
Tremain wondered how much one had to stretch the interpretation of those rules to legalize the killing of civilians. It seemed like more and more wrong was justified with each passing day of warfare, and right was being redefined. War is certainly hell, he thought. It seemed like it got more hellish every day. He could not deny the logic that the war would end sooner if Japan’s war production was diminished. And the sooner the war ended, the fewer lives would be lost. And, after all, orders were orders.
Tremain turned to the intelligence officer. “Any information on escorts, Lieutenant?” Tremain asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Giles and Ireland smile in approval. They had won their battle.
“None, sir,” the lieutenant answered. “Three to six destroyers, as escorts, and patrol craft would be typical for a capital ship of Kurita’s size. We expect heavy air activity over the area, as well.”
“A battleship that size and with that much armor will be difficult to sink with one salvo,” Tremain commented.
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said as if he was suddenly excited. “That’s why Mackerel will be fitted out with special torpedoes that have been modified for this particular mission. Instead of the normal 500-pound TNT warhead, these torpedoes will carry a 750-pound torpex warhead. That should be enough to break the Kurita’s keel. Four well-placed hits amidships should do the trick. Unfortunately, these torpedoes have a somewhat reduced range, only two thousand yards, so you will have to be close in to the target.”
Tremain nodded. Giles had thought of everything. At least the man could plan well.
“Do you have any more questions, Commander?” the lieutenant asked.
“No, I think that just about does it.”
“You will be receiving the particulars along with your sealed orders before you put to sea.”
Tremain started to rise.
“Oh, there’s one more thing, Tremain,” Giles added. “A rather insignificant matter. We’ll be sending Commander Stillsen along with you.”
“What?” Tremain could not believe what he had just heard.
“He’s already been briefed on the mission so I can not risk having him around here. He can’t leak information if he’s at sea with you.”
“Sir, I must tell you that I whole-heartedly protest this decision. This mission will be difficult enough as it is. Having two captains on board will make it near impossible.” Tremain could envision it now. He and Stillsen were complete opposites. Every order would be questioned. Every decision he made would prompt a commentary from Stillsen. It would be intolerable, and dangerous.
“There will be only one captain on board, Jack,” Ireland said, reassuringly. “That’s you. Stillsen will be assigned as a prospective commanding officer under the excuse that he needs more practical sea experience before taking command of his own boat.”
“Sir, I still believe that you are jeopardizing the success of the mission by sending him along. Stillsen’s presence will create an uncomfortable command climate. I don’t need my men to have to deal with that while they’re sweating it out under the ocean with the Japanese mainland less than ten miles away.”
“Well, Tremain,” Giles said, appearing not to have heard a word he said, “he’s going, and that’s final. Don’t worry, you’ll get by just fine.”
Easy for you to say, Tremain thought. You don’t know the first thing about what it’s like out there. Nothing about the delicate balance that holds captain and crew together.
Tremain left the SubPac building with Ireland. Once outside, they both lit up cigarettes. Ireland broke the silence with a few more words of encouragement, which did little to help.
“Sorry, Jack,” Ireland said. “SubPac bought off on your reasoning for retaining command of the Mackerel, but they really screwed us on this Stillsen thing. I fought it. Believe me, I fought it.”
Tremain knew Ireland had fought it. And he was at least a little glad that, outside of the deputy’s company, Ireland felt the same way about the situation.
“Well, sir. I asked to keep her for one more mission. I guess I got what I asked for. Nursing Stillsen is a little bit more than I wanted, though.”
“Maybe you can throw him overboard, when you get far enough out, Jack.” Ireland laughed, patting Tremain on the back.
But Tremain did not feel like laughing.
Chapter 17
Wright stood on the cigarette deck just aft of the bridge in the late afternoon sun. He watched as the crane on the pier slowly lowered a long, dangling torpedo through Mackerel's aft weapons-shipping hatch. Sweaty torpedomen lined each side of the heavy weapon and steadied it as it slid into the angled shaft that led to the aft torpedo room. Down in the torpedo room, more men would be waiting to receive the lethal cargo and position it into its proper rack and stowage space. Chief Konhausen was supervising the whole operation, and Wright thought it would be best if he just watched from a distance and stayed out of the way. After all, he did not know the first thing about loading torpedoes. His only knowledge came from what he had read in the submarine manuals, and he had not had time yet to get to the sections addressing “in port operations.”