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By Root 1336 0

below. The Marines who had tried to communicate their friendliness to the civilians had been stunned by the horror, and Nimitz had seen firsthand how effective Japanese propaganda could be. Those few civilians whom the Marines had prevented from leaping to their deaths spoke of the cannibalism of the Americans, how every child was certain to be raped and killed. Their terror had made it clear that the Japanese would spread the same propaganda to the occupants of every island. And now Nimitz saw the same kind of report. As Buckner’s troops from the Seventy-seventh Infantry Division swept over the small islands off Okinawa’s southwestern shore, the civilians there had reacted with the same blind fear. Unlike Saipan, on the small cluster of islands, the Japanese had supplied the people with weapons, mostly grenades. The troops who had witnessed the suicides had thought they were being fired on, but it was quickly apparent the civilians were using the grenades on themselves. Once again, Japanese propaganda had been amazingly effective.

“Damn. It could be this way all over Okinawa. How in hell do we stop this?”

It was a question no one around him could answer.

Nimitz continued to read, more of the same efficiency from Buckner, troop counts and landing craft specifics that Nimitz already knew. There were details of the shelling of the island as well, Buckner’s gleeful expectation that the Japanese defenses had been completely destroyed. Nimitz took no joy from the general’s optimism, had heard too much of that before. Dammit, if bombs and artillery are all we need, why in hell are you out there in the first place?

Nimitz was growing weary, the end of a long day, knew that tomorrow would be longer still. He couldn’t help the tension, felt it from his entire staff, the same tightness they all felt the night before every major operation. He scanned the rest of Buckner’s report, and his eye stopped at the end of the last page, a single line of type. Nimitz felt a cold stab in his stomach. No, not this crap again.

“Tomorrow we start on a great adventure.”

6. ADAMS

OFFSHORE, OKINAWA

APRIL 1, 1945 (EASTER SUNDAY)

“Eat up! All you want. Grab it and growl!”

The line snaked back along the corridor, the men inching their way past the amazing bins of hot food. Adams could smell the meat, saw men coming back past him with trays of steak and scrambled eggs, bowls of ice cream, steaming coffee. The smells were wonderful, hunger overcoming his bleary-eyed lack of sleep. He glanced behind him, saw Sergeant Ferucci, said, “What time is it, Sarge?”

“Just past three. You better eat up. Might not get anything for a while.”

In front of him one man stepped out of line, moved the other way, down a stairway, stumbled, held himself against the railing, was suddenly sick. Around Adams there was a chorus of groans, low curses, the scene too common on the transport ships. Ferucci prodded him gently, said, “Ignore that. Eat what you can. Some of these boys are too smart for their own good. They ain’t eating ’cause they know what’s coming. More’n’ likely, you’ll just be borrowing those steaks. Seen too many boys give it all back before we hit the beach. Not me. I see this much grub, I grab all I can. You oughta do the same. If it stays down, you’ll be better off. If it doesn’t … well, won’t matter much.”

Behind the sergeant, another man said, “Funny as hell, Sarge. How the hell can you eat anything at three in the morning? I’m done. You can have my share.”

Adams turned, saw Gorman, one of the veterans, a sickly look on the man’s face. They called Gorman “Pops,” though Adams knew he couldn’t have been much older than the rest, maybe twenty-five. Gorman had been in four major engagements, and Adams had envied that, knew that Gorman should be someone to watch, would know what to do in a tight spot. But Gorman was getting sicker by the second, and Adams watched as he stepped out of line, made his way to the same stairway, dropped out of sight. Ferucci said, “He shoulda gone up, gotten some air. He’ll be okay. Just means more steak for the