The Final Storm - Jeff Shaara [108]
As the Americans scrambled to react to the surprising change in Japanese tactics, the Japanese ground troops began their assault. At first daylight waves of men emerged from their perfect camouflage and swarmed headlong into the American positions. A few of the advances by individual regiments were effective, punching holes in the American lines, driving past stunned and panicked troops, pushing into supply depots and rear echelon positions. But those successes were few. As the Japanese troops rushed headlong into the guns of the Americans, most of them met the same fate as their armor. Entire units were virtually wiped out. Despite the enormous losses, the Japanese pushed forward for a full day and into the night. The next morning what was left of the Japanese offensive forces obeyed their officers, who obeyed the plan given them by General Cho. They attacked again. Though the tenacity of the Japanese impressed the Americans who faced them, the outcome was never in doubt.
BENEATH SHURI CASTLE,
THIRTY-SECOND ARMY HEADQUARTERS, OKINAWA
MAY 5, 1945
He read the latest report, Yahara standing close, impatient.
“It is a disaster, sir! Here, look! Captain Oka reports his troops are completely surrounded. He does not expect to survive. It is the same in every part of the field. You must stop this!”
Ushijima looked at Yahara, a stern glare.
“You do not tell me what I must do.”
Yahara lowered his head.
“No, certainly not, General. Please forgive me.”
Ushijima looked at the others, the men standing alongside the map, no one speaking. The gloom was in all of them, the men who knew the reports, whose job it was to record the progress of the attack on the great map. But the men had been silent for some time now, nothing on the maps for them to change.
“Where is Cho?”
One of the aides close to the doorway said, “I will summon him, sir.”
“Yes, summon him.” He did not look at Yahara, said, “Return to your office. I will call for you shortly.”
Yahara made a quick short bow, was gone without a word. Ushijima saw the expectant looks on the faces of the aides, said, “I shall be in my room. When General Cho arrives, send him to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He moved out into the corridor, slipped quickly into his room, hesitated, leaned his back against the wood that lined his earthen walls. A hard knot rose in his throat, choking away the air, and he fought it, straightened, stretched, forced air into his lungs. He felt dizziness, pulled himself away from the wall, reached down, settled on the mat on the floor, his usual place. I need water, he thought. He knew the servants would hear him, but the words did not come, and he scolded himself, no, do not bother them. You should be made to suffer for this. Do not bother anyone. They all know what this day means.
“Sir! You sent for me?”
Cho stood stiffly in the doorway, and Ushijima said, “You were not in your office.”
“No. I was at the mouth of the great cave. The radio there continues to send in reports, though most of the reporting stations have been lost. So, General, is it time for us all to die?”
There was a strange levity in Cho’s voice, and Ushijima looked at him, saw the hint of a smile, said, “You are aware that we have not been successful?”
“I know our situation, General. If this is to be the end, then it is ordained for us to die together. I welcome my place at the great shrine. I have done my best for the emperor.”
Ushijima understood now, thought, so, he is abdicating any responsibility for our failures. This was all part of his glorious plan.
“General Cho, despite your eagerness to join your ancestors, I