"Now," the photographer said. A movie camera was set up alongside the still photographer. It had all been well rehearsed. The two leaders stood beside each other, close but not touching. They would not shake hands as such contact was repugnant to Japanese males. They smiled and appeared as equals while the cameras whirred and clicked. More pictures were taken of them bowing toward each other at a depth that signified utmost mutual respect. Most Americans had little idea that a Japanese bow was filled with meaning. Too deep a bow and one signified subservience to the other; too shallow and it indicated dominance over the other. The bow had to be just right to convey the proper message of equality.

Several more pictures were taken while the light and the view remained. Halsey looked about nervously. If he could see the mountain, the Jap pilots could see the Midway. Granted the skies were filled with scores of American fighters and radar indicated nothing hostile in the area, but he remembered what happened to the Augusta and MacArthur. Halsey didn't want to go down in history as the admiral who lost the president of the United States. If the little Jap standing beside Truman got shot up, well, that was okay, but not the president of the United States.

"That's it," Truman said. "We have enough pictures and I'm freezing my butt off."

Grew translated the comment to Hirohito, who grinned and nodded. Truman wondered just how literal the translation had been and whether the emperor was a little less of a stick-in-the-mud than he appeared.

The executive officer of the carrier ran out onto the flight deck to intercept the group of men. He looked at all the assembled rank and directed his statement to Truman.

"Sir, we're receiving a broadcast from Tokyo. It says that Anami has been overthrown and that Admiral Ozawa and General Homma are now in charge. They're also saying they want to talk peace."

Chapter 78

A Jap attack on Round Top could come from three directions. It could come from over the hill known as Mt. Ugly, or around either side of it. Because of the poor visibility caused by the rotten weather, a series of two-man listening posts had been established at each of the three points, with a fourth outpost coordinating and commanding the three.

Sergeant Collins had been in the command-outpost foxhole for several hours and longed for his watch to end. Along with being wet, cold, hungry, and miserable, the situation was scary. The weather remained bad, it was night, and he couldn't see more than a hundred feet in front. The thought that Japs could be just out of his view was unnerving at best.

But that, of course, was why he and Private First Class Hanks, his radioman, were in the hole. It was far better that he and the others in the outposts be overrun by a horde of Japs than that the entire company suffer that fate. It had sounded faintly heroic when it had been discussed back on Round Top. Now it sounded foolish and downright stupid.

Small, wireless walkie-talkies connected the four outposts to each other. As the closest to Round Top, Collins also had the luxury of a field phone connecting him with the rest of the company. Phones were not considered good ideas for the three forward outposts because the wires could be cut or even stumbled upon by the Japs and used to trace back to an outpost itself.

Communications with the three posts were limited to clicks, not words. Collins's command post would send one click out, and a one-click response meant everything was okay. The command post would then send one back as confirmation that the signal had been received. In case of possible danger, the men in an outpost would click twice and withdraw from their exposed position. They didn't have to wait for a response. A series of three or more clicks meant that everybody should run like hell. The posts were to respond to the clicks from Collins every few minutes. It was hoped that the discreet and muffled sounds would not carry.

The system was far from perfect. Several false alarms had led to precipitous retreats back to Round Top. These had been followed by sheepish crawls back to their positions by the men who'd just run from them. Lieutenant Morrell hadn't chewed out anyone for his actions, but the continued unnecessary alerts caused stress and fatigue. Collins chewed his gum and wished for a cigarette. Why the hell wouldn't the Japs come and get it over with?

It had been several minutes since the last outpost check. "Hit 'em, Hanks," he whispered.

Hanks grunted, crouched over the walkie-talkie, and made a clicking noise with his mouth. A few seconds later he looked up. "One reports okay, Sarge." He returned to his task. Then there was a pause. "Nothing from two."

"Do three." Two was at the crest of Mt. Ugly, while the others were on the lower ground flanking it.

"Three's okay. Should I try two again?"

"Of course." Collins's mind raced. Was something wrong? A delay in responding had happened before, and he'd chewed ass for it. People were supposed to pay attention, not scare him half to death.

Hanks looked up from his crouch, concern on his face. "Still nothing."

They tried a third time and again no response. Outpost two was a little more than a quarter mile away and well within the range of the handheld radios. Were they malfunctioning? No, in that case either of the two men would have realized they hadn't heard from Collins in a while and used the backup set each group had. Kerns and Fellows were good guys and wouldn't just be sitting there with their thumbs up their asses.

Shit.

Collins's next alternative was to crawl out there and find them, which he dreaded. It was bad enough that he had to take the men out there when their shift started and return to get them when it ended. At least then he had their replacements with him and wasn't alone. Maybe he should get some help from Lieutenant Morrell? Under any circumstances, he would have to notify Morrell of the problem. The situation was the stuff of nightmares and his fears were as normal as the next guy's. Christ, if only he could see!

The wind swirled and he thought he picked up movement in the distance, maybe a couple of hundred yards away. It couldn't be Kerns and Fellows, it was too broad a sensation.

But it couldn't be the Japs because they always began their attacks with yells and all kinds of noise to inspire them.

His mind raced. It couldn't be the Japs, could it?

Then he realized the cold truth: the Japs weren't yelling!

"They're coming," Collins blurted to Hanks, who immediately began making clicking sounds as fast as he could. Kerns and Fellows hadn't answered because they were dead. Now he had to recall his other men and get the hell back to Round Top. There was no time for a phone call to warn Morrell and the others. The Japs might be right on top of him in seconds. He simply began firing into the air. With all need for secrecy gone, the approaching Japanese began to scream and howl like a chorus of devils.