The Final Storm - Jeff Shaara [36]
4. USHIJIMA
BENEATH SHURI CASTLE, OKINAWA
MARCH 30, 1945
The barrage from the warships had slowed, then finally stopped completely, thick clouds of smoke drifting up from the coastline, all through the hills. The artillery fire had lasted for more than an hour, and he knew it would come again, like the perfect chime of a precise clock. There would only be a short time for his men to emerge from the cover of the caves. His officers knew it as well, and the orders had been given, the soldiers scrambling out over the hillside, some retrieving wounded, others doing what they could to secure and strengthen the camouflage that blanketed most of the troop positions closest to him. For more than a week now the barrages of fire from the great warships had been a magnificent spectacle, aimed at every part of the island, streaks of red and white light, bursts of fire, thunderous shaking that sent dust even through the deepest caves. But the caves were secure, no cracks in the concrete, no sign of weakness in the rocks that surrounded him. He knew that several times the Americans had been lucky, direct hits, a single shell coming down straight into a cave. The results were catastrophic for the men inside, entire squads blasted to bloody shreds, sometimes nothing left at all. But those were rare, and all over the island his men kept their positions, low in the earth, far back in the natural and man-made caverns that ran beneath so much of the island like some great honeycomb.
He had no fear for himself, knew that no matter how much artillery came down around him, or burst into the enormous walls of the castle above him, there was almost no danger. The cave behind him wound deeply into the hillside, a labyrinth of offices and living space for hundreds of his troops. No one had yet seen a bomb or a shell from the great warships that could penetrate a mountain. And yet, he thought, they continue to try. Can they truly believe that we would spread ourselves out on open ground, that I would position my army in shallow trenches, perfect targets for their fire? They must believe it, or they would not continue this … absurdity. Day after day the fire begins precisely on schedule, as though we will have forgotten the shelling that came the day before. The Americans are an amazing people, possessed of wealth and resources and utterly without wisdom. He stepped forward to the very edge of the cave’s opening, watched the quick work of the men down below, most of them already scampering back