This, coupled with the continuing nonnuclear fire bombings and bombardments of cities and towns throughout Japan, convinced Hirohito that there was no sense in further struggles against the inevitable. Most of Japan 's cities were scorched rubble, and there was no way of stopping the Americans from inflicting more pain on his beloved nation.

At a meeting with his war cabinet, he shocked them by doing something never before done in such a meeeting. He had spoken directly to them. The emperor, always present, maintained a regal silence regarding the issues under discussion. It was, in fact, against the Japanese constitution for him to voice an opinion.

There were eight on the council: Hirohito and the seven others who debated and voted. Five of the seven were militarists, and even he had been shocked when they'd acquiesced with his demand that they surrender.

This time, however, he told his cabinet that it was time to think the unthinkable and endure the unendurable: to surrender the nation unconditionally to the Americans. If they did not, no Japanese child would grow to adulthood and thus preserve the exquisite and priceless culture that was uniquely Japanese. Of that Hirohito was convinced. He was also convinced that the only alternative to unconditional surrender was death. Several in the group had broken down in tears, but they had agreed to comply with his wishes. For his part, he now bitterly regretted his earlier enthusiasm for the war, which had cost the people of Japan so much and which even threatened the continuation of his throne. How could he have been so foolish? Now he had to salvage what he could of his honor, his country, and his throne.

The meeting took place in this same shelter, where now, alone but for his hopes, Hirohito awaited his fate. The emperor knew that the radicals in the military would rebel with a maniacal fury to prevent Japan 's surrender. All of Japan should die and become a scorched cinder rather than a degraded vassal of the hated and despised Americans.

Hirohito had recorded a message to the Japanese people, then gone into hiding. The message was to be broadcast by radio to the steadily shrinking empire, and the war would come to a swift end.

Hirohito cocked his head. Again he heard the chatter of machine gun fire as it echoed down the corridors of the upper levels. A grenade exploded nearby, causing another rain of fine dust to fall upon his head and onto the lenses of his thick glasses. He took a handkerchief and tried to wipe them off and wondered, had War Minister General Anami found the will and support within the army to defy him, or was this uprising spontaneous, the actions of a few score of misguided young zealots?

General Anami believed in fate and would likely let the efforts of others decide his destiny. There was much precedent in current Japanese history for such an uprising by angry young officers. In recent years, other such young warriors had developed the unpleasant habit of murdering their political enemies and often did so without fear of retribution. They had learned it in the 1930s when they had set the nation on a course of conquest through the simple expedient of assassinating their more peaceful and reasonable opposition. That course of conquest, initially so glorious and successful, had now nearly brought an end to Japan.

Hirohito winced in surprise at another sharp burst of gunfire, this one close by. Whatever his and Japan 's future would be was going to be determined in a short time.

The shelter's door flung open and an army colonel stood silhouetted by the smoke and light behind him. He wore the uniform of the Imperial Guards, but with a white sash about his waist. He looked young for his rank, probably in his early thirties, but he carried himself like a grim-faced veteran. He was covered with dust, and blood from a cut on his forehead had carved a path down his face. Hirohito did not know him and did not speak.

The officer entered and bowed deeply. "Your Excellency, I am here to take you to a place of safety."

"Do you have a name, Colonel?"

The colonel flushed. In his haste he had forgotten the courtesy and respect due his emperor. "Forgive me, Your Excellency. I am Col. Tadashi Sakei and I am on the staff of the Twelfth Area Army, which is responsible for the safety of the city of Tokyo."

Hirohito declined to look directly on Sakei. "And this place of safety, where is it and why should I accompany you? Am I your prisoner or your emperor, and what is the significance of the white sash you wear?"

"Your refuge will be away from Tokyo, Excellency. Here we fear that your life is in danger from more than just American bombs. More I am not at liberty to say. As to your other questions, you are my emperor. The sash signifies that I am one of those who are your protectors. Your enemies wear no sash." Sakei again bowed deeply, reverently.

"And what does General Anami know of your actions?" The man still had not said which side he was on. The term protector meant nothing. Protection from whom? Would there be blessed peace or the continuation of death?

The colonel raised himself proudly to full height. He was quite tall for a Japanese, and the blood drying on his face made him look barbarically fierce. "General Anami," he said with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, "has finally condoned the actions of men of honor who wish to preserve Japan and keep her safe from her enemies. He now supports us and honors us with his leadership."

Hirohito began to grieve inside for his beloved nation, but did not let his disappointment show. General Anami, once his friend, had betrayed him.

"It does not matter that you have me. My message will go forth without me," Hirohito said proudly.

Colonel Sakei smiled tightly. He left the room for a moment and returned with two small packages wrapped with string and brown paper. "Do you mean these? The treasonous message your traitorous advisers forced you to make and record for broadcast to the world?"

Now it was all Hirohito could do to keep from sobbing in his dismay and frustration. His enemies had both himself and the recordings of the royal rescript. His voice calling for peace would not go forth to the people of Japan. There would be no end to the war. The killing would go on. And on. And on.

"Do you have any idea what you are doing?" Hirohito gasped.

"Saving Japan," Sakei snapped.

"By destroying her? Why don't you kill me?" Hirohito asked sadly. "The shame of your foolishness is too much to endure. Get it over with and then depart and return to your misguided comrades." Hirohito shook his head in dismissal. Colonel Sakei was now beneath his contempt.

Sakei reacted as if slapped. A couple of white-sashed soldiers who had peered into the room gasped and darted away. If the angry colonel had seen them in his shame, he would have had them beaten to a pulp, perhaps killed. That was the way discipline was maintained in the Japanese army.

"Excellency," Sakei said in a strained voice, "you are a living symbol of Japan, her living god. Your presence and your pronouncements will add credence to our efforts to defend the home islands from invasion by the Americans."

Proclamations would be issued in his name, but by the hand of Anami and officers like Sakei. On the other hand it seemed obvious that he was the only member of the royal family who had been taken, and that the twelve-year-old Crown Prince Akihito was elsewhere and safe, as were the emperor's two younger brothers. If he, Hirohito, was assassinated, then Akihito would become emperor. With Hirohito alive, any comments that might be made on behalf of or by Prince Akihito would have no weight. It was a small ray of hope, but he grasped it. Most important, his only and well-loved son was alive and apparently safe, if only for the moment.

"Why would you extend this battle?" Hirohito asked. "The Americans will drop more atomic bombs on our cities and then invade our few islands. Our lands are already surrounded by their warships, and their planes fly overhead without opposition. If you persist, all Japan will be destroyed because of your misguided stubbornness."