The Final Storm - Jeff Shaara [181]
Ushijima looked out toward the primary entrance, could smell the smoke from the blast, but there was no shooting, no other sound at all.
“Gather what troops you can, seal off the smaller openings that face the enemy.”
“Is that all, sir?”
Ushijima looked into the eyes of the man he admired, knew that Yahara would find a way, would do whatever it took to secure the safety of his commander.
“I will not seek escape. I should not have to tell you that.”
Yahara looked down, and Ushijima could see the emotion.
“What would you have me do, sir?”
There was a sound at the entrance to the room, and Ushijima saw Cho, sweat on his face, his uniform ragged, covered in dust.
“You were correct. The enemy fired a lucky shot, probably from offshore. They are not on the cliffs.”
Ushijima looked again at Yahara.
“Colonel Yahara has a gift of genius, wouldn’t you agree? Has he not demonstrated a loyalty we should admire?”
Cho stepped into the small room, said, “Yes. Without any doubt. His loyalty to the emperor is beyond question.”
“I am not speaking of the emperor. I am speaking more of this command. Colonel, it is essential that someone in authority survive this battle. Tokyo must know what happened here, in the kind of detail only you can provide. General Cho and I will face our duty soon enough. But you …”
“Sir, I would not disgrace myself by offering myself to the enemy, or by abandoning this command.”
“There is no disgrace in following orders. You will make every attempt to escape this place, and make your report to the Imperial High Command.”
Cho rubbed his chin, nodded.
“Yes. I agree. This army has fought a gallant fight, and their story must be told. A full report must be made.” He looked at Ushijima now, a stern glare. “I would not be so hasty in judging this battle to be lost, sir. With all respect, of course.”
“I make no such concession. I only wish Colonel Yahara to make preparations, that if events call for him to make his exit, he be prepared to do so. You will carry out my order, Colonel.”
Yahara glanced at Cho, seemed to fight the emotions, kept his head low, then bowed.
“I will obey. But I will not make such a plan while there is still a fight to be made.”
Ushijima looked up, reacting to the thumps above, the cave echoing with a new round of incoming artillery.
“Then make your fight, Colonel. For now, there is little else we can do.”
JUNE 22, 1945
It was not yet midnight, but the lack of daylight meant very little inside the dismal cave. Above him the thunder of artillery had been replaced by new sounds, machine gun fire, sounds both familiar and foreign. He knew what was happening, that those officers still remaining who controlled enough men to make a stand were doing so right above him. It was a desperate attempt to drive the Americans off the hill. In the dark corridor, men had been assembled, a scattering of stragglers from various units close by, brought together by staff officers, the only officers these men could find. He knew that Yahara was there, could hear voices, the frantic words of men who were preparing for their last fight. Yahara was at his doorway now, the only light a candle to one side, and Yahara said, “We are prepared, sir. Major Matsubara has given the instructions, and Lieutenants Tsubakida and Yabumoto will coordinate the effort as best they can. We have the advantage of darkness, and the enemy cannot withstand our will!”
Ushijima waved him away, knew the plan was already in motion. There was nothing else to say. The commotion beyond his room increased, the men ordered out toward the main entrance. Ushijima sat silently, stared at the flicker from the candle, thought, at least he did not call this attack a banzai. I would rather them die with dignity, killing the enemy. There is no glory in hurling oneself into the abyss.
He had no illusions that this attack would be successful in removing the Americans from so close to his headquarters. But his troops were still willing,