The I-58 was a fairly new addition to the Imperial Japanese Navy and, at 355 feet long, was believed to be larger than any American sub. She could simultaneously fire six thirty-foot-long, oxygen-driven torpedoes that had a range of several miles and a speed of over forty knots. She also had a 5.5-inch deck gun and several machine guns as antiaircraft protection.

Attached to the I-58's deck were four kaiten human torpedoes. Because of the need to make room for a rider and a rude steering mechanism, the kaiten were slower and had a smaller warhead.

But they would never miss. The kaiten would be launched at a suitable target and the pilot would steer into it. The human torpedoes were a German device so there was a release mechanism that, theoretically, would save the pilot. The release would not be needed. Not one of the kaiten pilots would think of not dying.

During the cruise, the kaiten pilots had been a problem for Commander Hashimoto. They had begged for the opportunity to hit the American battleship that had turned out to be a cruiser, but Hashimoto had denied them because he thought their efforts would be wasted. The shot was so easy that human guidance was unnecessary. Wait, he'd counseled.

Now they were at him again, begging and whining like children for the right to obliterate themselves against an American ship. In a way, he felt sorry for them. They had pledged to die, and to return safely to port was a disgrace, even though it wasn't their fault. They had set out to die, so die they must or suffer shame. A kamikaze pilot generally went out with only enough fuel in his plane for a one-way trip, so a return was unlikely. Even if a kamikaze didn't find an American warship, he would find a reasonably honorable death by crashing into the sea.

Not so the kaiten. Commander Hashimoto was adamant that in their use they would not jeopardize the I-58 or waste themselves in any attempt. The I-58, and a few like her, were all the Imperial Japanese Navy had to fight off the Americans, and while suicide might be a future option, Hashimoto did not think that now was the right time. Hashimoto was also acutely aware that many of the large Japanese subs were now being used solely to ferry troops and supplies to isolated garrisons, and he was gratified that he was still able to carry out combat operations and not have to operate as an undersea transport.

The American sub looked just about right for the kaiten to make their final efforts. The target was small and a miss would be too likely with a conventional torpedo.

"Two," he said to the eager faces, and two men ran forward to climb through the connecting hatches and take their places in the kaiten while the others moaned their dismay.

The American sub insolently rose farther out of the sea. It appeared that there was activity on her deck as well. Hashimoto's senior torpedo officer signaled that the kaiten were ready, and the commander gave the order to fire. The I-58 rose slightly by the bow when the human torpedoes were launched, and the helmsman kept tight control on the ship to ensure that she wouldn't breach and reveal her position.

On board the Moray, the deckhands had just about finished stowing the raft when a lookout screamed. "Torpedoes!"

Without looking, Hobart yelled for an emergency dive. Men tumbled down the hatches, breaking bones in their haste to be off the deck and into the perceived safety of the Moray. In seconds, her bow had started to move and dip beneath the gentle waves. Hobart, who had been overseeing the reloading operation, saw that the sub was going to dive with him still on the deck. He turned and watched in horror as twin lines of bubbles shifted and directed themselves toward the Moray. As the sub struggled to find the safety of the depths, Hobart knew it was useless. The devil-guided torpedoes would find her. He bowed his head and waited. In his last second of life, he thought he saw a face looking at him from the torpedo as it crashed into the sub.

Joe Nomura, alone on a hill overlooking the sea and with his gear safely hidden, sat in silence. The first explosion was immediately followed by another, and the Moray's dark shape lifted out of the water before plunging, broken, to her death.

From the suddenness and totality of the explosions it seemed highly unlikely that anyone on the Moray had survived. Even if they had, he could not jeopardize his mission by going after them. God help them, he prayed silently, and God help me. He felt the despair of being completely alone.

The explosions would bring attention from the Japanese military. A chill breeze blew by him and he clutched the tattered remains of his Japanese army uniform tighter to his chest. It was time to begin his mission.

Chapter 11

Brigadier General Monck saluted. General Eichelberger returned it and held out his hand. "Welcome to Manila, General, and congratulations on your promotion."

Monck flushed with pleasure. "Thanks, General, but it was really quite unexpected."

"Nonsense. I understand you did a fine job with that armored unit in the Ruhr. I just wonder how you'll adapt to being an infantry commander fighting Japs after riding around with a hundred tanks at your disposal and taking on the Nazis?"

Monck chuckled. "I'll make do. General, I was an infantryman well before I knew anything about armor, and I didn't expect to find much armor here in the Pacific theater. Island-hopping and amphibious warfare don't call for massed tank formations. It'll be like a homecoming for me to be working with infantry again."

An orderly brought coffee, which Monck took gratefully. He'd spent a lot of time on an airplane and felt the caffeine stirring in him. Eichelberger took a sip and put his cup aside.

"General Monck, as soon as I've briefed you and you've finished your coffee, you'll meet Mac Arthur. Then you'll be heading off to Okinawa to take command of your new regiment. Current planning has that regiment in reserve for one of the divisions that will take part in the initial phase of the invasion of Japan, the assault on Kyushu. It'll likely be the 41st, which is still being reorganized. The 41st has a long and proud history of action in the Pacific, but, like so many others, has taken a lot of casualties and has lost a lot of men because of the damned policy of rotating long-service soldiers back to the States."

Monck said nothing. While he privately agreed that men who had endured years of hell should be sent home, it meant that the best and most experienced soldiers were being replaced by men with little or no combat experience.

"So," Eichelberger added, "your regiment will be overstrength at just under four thousand men and filled with recruits who don't even know each other. You'll have about a month, maybe two at the most, to whip them into shape, so work them wisely and hard. Their lives will depend on it. General Krueger, who is unavailable to meet you right now, will command the attack on Kyushu. I am functioning as MacArthur's planning and operations chief for the second phase of the fighting, which will be the final attack on the island of Honshu and the city of Tokyo."

Monck hoped they would not pay dearly for that rush. And he knew the reason for his new command to be overstrength. It was expected to go in early and would be taking heavy casualties. The regiment would need the extra men to function after getting mauled. It further answered the question why he, a brigadier general, was getting a command that would ordinarily fall to a bird colonel. Thanks for nothing, he thought.

"General Eichelberger, just how firm are the plans for the invasion?"

"As firm as anything that is being thrown together in haste. I've got to admit we didn't think it would really come to this, and we didn't start planning in earnest until recently. Only two things are certain: first, that the invasion will be in the very early part of November, and second, that it will be on the island of Kyushu rather than anyplace else. Don't worry, Monck, we'll get this all sorted out and muddle through. Now, have you ever met MacArthur?"