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Neat work, Cuttlefish!

Well it looks like Mama Shun will make it out ok, and while the US soldier weren't all saints either, they were much less likely to 'put her out of her misery'.

ORIGINAL: gladiatt

ORIGINAL: NCSUforest

The Marines better be glad that Mama Shun was passed out when they found her.[:D]

i am much more anxious for Nanami: who know what could happen to a nice young women alone in a group of battered soldiers, even if of the same side ???

It's even worse than you think. The IJA was a much greater danger to the Okinawan civilians than the Americans were, especially during the last part of the campaign. There's reason to believe this is why the U.S. built major bases there after the war--the natives weren't nearly as resentful of the Yankees as happened on mainland Japan.

Mea culpa -- I was right about that blockhouse near the Shun cottage, but wrong that Granny Shun wouldn't get to use that Lebel![:-]

April 30, 1945

Location: 60 miles southwest of Marcus Island
Course: South
Attached to: TF 21
Mission: Surface combat
System Damage: 0
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 239

Orders: Proceed south and raid enemy shipping

---

Nanami Ariga is conditioned to trust and obey military personnel. Not only is it part of her culture but growing up with a Chief Petty Officer as a father has had an effect as well. But by her second evening with the retreating Japanese soldiers her illusions that they are here to help her and the other civilians are rapidly vanishing.

She is also beginning to have terrible suspicions about the nature of the help intended by the soldier dispatched to aid her grandmother. Nanami has listened in horror as families unable to keep up with the headlong withdrawal north were issued grenades and told to use them if necessary. Again and again it is emphasized that the Americans at their heels are little better than demons in human form, and the cruelties they will inflict on anyone they catch are related in detail.

The soldier sent to take care of her grandmother did not reappear. This seems to annoy but not surprise the lieutenant in charge. Other soldiers have lagged and been caught by the enemy or deserted. There is no time to worry about those who cannot keep up. Nanami thinks about what the missing soldier may have done and fear for her grandmother grows until she is nearly frantic.

It is by now quite dark. Soldiers and civilians alike are asleep, mere huddled shapes in the night. They can risk no light or fire. There are a few sentries out there, Nanami knows, but she is going to have to risk them. Silently she rises. She freezes a moment as the lieutenant, who is sleeping nearby, mutters something. The man seems to be talking in his sleep, however. Nanami waits tensely. The officer worries her more than all the others. Not only is he more ruthless but he has taken to keeping Nanami close and giving her looks she does not like.

He does not stir further, however, and Nanami nerves herself to creep out of camp. She evades the sentries and slips away into the night, a slender woman in a dirty and somewhat ragged kimono.

---

Near dawn, as she makes her way back towards her cottage, she hears a faint sound of weeping. It is coming from a narrow ravine that wends back up the hillside. Nanami hesitates, then makes her way up the draw. There is such a lost, forlorn sound to the weeping that she feels compelled to find its source.

She pushes through the brush to find a small, sheltered clearing. In the faint predawn light Nanami can see a ring of bodies. That they are dead is obvious and Nanami is glad the light is no better than it is. The weeping is very close now.

There are five of them. The wife and the children must have gathered close around the grenade their father held. Nearby is a sixth figure, and it is she who is crying. Nanami thinks that this is the eldest daughter, a girl only a few years younger than Nanami herself. She is lying near her dead mother, her hands wringing the trailing edge of her mother’s kimono. Shrapnel has torn her legs and chest.

Part of Nanami’s mind closes down in the face of this horror. Almost numbly she hurries to the girl and kneels next to her. The girl’s wounds are terrible and there is blood everywhere, ribbons of dark in the gray light. Nanami begins tearing strips of cloth from the shredded kimono to use as bandages. She has the foolish feeling that she should apologize to the dead woman for treating her garment so.

“Everyone is dead,” says the girl, becoming aware of her. “Everyone but me.” Nanami bites her lip and tries to tie bandages around the worst of the wounds.

“I know,” she says. There is so much blood.

“Please, is there any water?” the girl asks in a faint voice.

“I will see,” says Nanami gently. She rises and among the few possessions piled a short distance away finds an intact water skin with a little water in it. She takes it to the girl and tries to help her raise her head to take a drink. The girl’s head is limp and heavy and it takes Nanami a moment to realize she is dead.

Nanami drops the flask and slowly stands. Then blindly she stumbles out of the draw. Brush catches at her garments and she falls, then rises and stumbles on again. Behind her a faint glow of approaching daylight, red in the pall of smoke that hangs over the island, begins to outline the tops of the hills. Another day on Okinawa is about to begin.

Homeric I'd say.

May 1, 1945

Location: 60 miles southwest of Marcus Island
Course: South
Attached to: TF 21
Mission: Surface combat
System Damage: 0
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 475

Orders: Proceed south and raid enemy shipping

---

Four oilers and a trio of Matsu-class escorts rendezvous with Yamamoto’s task force as promised. The refueling goes slowly but smoothly, even though one destroyer has its bow swept sideways by a surprise wave which parts the fueling hose and makes an oily mess out of the ship's foredeck.

Captain Ishii is happy it is not his ship that has suffered this embarrassment. In fact it feels a bit like the old days, he thinks to himself. The combat ships are refueling before proceeding into enemy held waters while nearby a carrier force waits nearby. In fact, however, the four oilers and their meager escort probably represent the entire long-range refueling capacity of the Imperial Japanese Navy. And the carrier force consists of a single untested carrier. This rather puts the lie to the illusion that these are like the glory days of old.

Ishii chooses not to examine the facts too closely, however. There is a job to do and one must focus on it instead of on the state of the war. Tomorrow they will move south into the enemy’s sea lanes. Once there they must be prepared to encounter almost anything.

---

It has taken Nanami a full day to cover the last few kilometers to her home. She is behind American lines now and twice she has had to hide from patrols. She has long since been forced off the road and into the hills, and from there she can see many American troops along with trucks, a few tanks, and many odd-looking boxy cars moving north. There is even a little traffic moving south.

The American patrols do not confine themselves to the road, of course. But Nanami grew up in these hills and has so far been able to escape being seen. But her progress has been slow, agonizingly slow. And she is tired and hungry, though she has been able to find enough water, and heartsick with the horrors that she has seen.

Finally, however, she has reached the top of the hill overlooking the ruins of her father’s cottage. She peers down from a notch in the hilltop screened by brush , for she is too much her father’s daughter to skyline herself. She also knows that her white kimono is not good garb for sneaking around, even though it is dusty and filthy and spotted with dried blood. But shedding it seems to her to create more problems than it might solve.

She peers and down and is dismayed by what she sees. The shell of the cottage swarms with American soldiers. It seems to be some kind of command post. There are tables with maps and a radio and from somewhere the smell of cooking food wafts uphill on the onshore breeze. Nanami’s stomach growls so loudly she has the absurd fear that the soldiers walking to and fro below her might hear.

Unlike most of her countrymen Nanami does not regard all Americans as demons. She has met two of them and found them to be gentlemen, though the one named Jack obviously took approving note of her looks. And her husband has told her that in general they are trustworthy. Still, Nanami has few illusions about soldiers of any nation and what they are capable of when stressed by combat.

There is no one near the opening to the cellar. Nanami knows that getting there unseen will be very difficult but she has to take the chance. Despite her great fear she slowly begins to crawl downhill, using boulders and the thick brush for concealment.

She makes it almost halfway before she is seen. The marines below her are not careless men. The Japanese have eliminated the careless ones long since with Darwinian efficiency. While the real fighting is to the south there are enough snipers and infiltrators here to keep the men on their toes. One soldier calls out a warning as he raises his rifle and fires several shots up the slope.

A bullet clips twigs in front of Nanami’s face, another kicks dirt in her face, and a third grazes the top of her right shoulder. She cries out in fear and pain and scrambles behind a nearby boulder.

---

“Did you get him?” one soldier asks Turner, the man who fired the shots. Turner shrugs, not taking his eyes off the hillside.

“Maybe,” he says. Several men spread out and start up the hill, weapons at the ready.

“Him?” says another man. “That sounded like a woman to me. Wearing white, too. What kind of Jap soldier wears white?”

“Good way to get shot,” agrees Turner. He begins to worry a little. Anyone creeping up on them like that has got to be an enemy, which means shoot first and ask questions later. But that did sound like a woman’s scream, or a girl’s. He too starts up the hill.

Two men cover the boulder from in front while others begin to carefully work their way around the flanks. Turner comes up alongside the two men in front.

“Come on out,” he yells. “Come out with your hands in the air!”

“Hell, just toss a grenade back there,” grumbles one of the other men.

“Shut up,” says Turner amiably. He is a big man. The other marine shuts up.

“Hello,” comes a woman’s voice from behind the boulder. “How are you today?” This, though the marines don’t know it, is one of the few English phrases Riku had time to teach Nanami. The voice is high and clear even though the person behind it is obviously frightened.

“I’ll be damned,” says the man who suggested tossing the grenade. He surreptitiously hangs the grenade he has been holding back on his belt.

“I am fine,” calls Turner amiably. “How are you?” There is a pause.

“My name is Nanami Ariga,” comes the voice. “Do you think it will rain?” There are a few chuckles from the assembled marines and weapons are lowered, though not put away.

“She doesn’t understand a damned thing I’m saying,” guesses Turner, accurately. The voice makes him think of his own younger sisters. “Someone go and get Hayakawa.” Hayakawa, a Japanese American from Hawaii, is the unit’s interpreter.

It takes time for Hayakawa to get there and more time to coax the young woman out from behind the rock. In the days and weeks to come Turner and the others will see far too many dead civilians. At particularly bad times they will sometimes think of the pretty young girl they saved, the one who came out from behind a boulder with her hands raised, chin lifted bravely though she was obviously frightened, the one who said in clear although heavily accented English, “Never draw to an inside straight! May I pour you some tea?”

“Never draw to an inside straight! May I pour you some tea?”

[:D]

Outstanding!

“My name is Nanami Ariga,” comes the voice. “Do you think it will rain?” There are a few chuckles from the assembled marines and weapons are lowered, though not put away.

Yay--Nanami is now likely to survive the war. But Hibiki's fate is still very much in the balance.

Phew!
(Wipes sweat off forehead)

May 2, 1945

Location: 300 miles southwest of Marcus Island
Course: South
Attached to: TF 21
Mission: Surface combat
System Damage: 1
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 439

Orders: Proceed south and raid enemy shipping

---


“Well, here we are,” says Lieutenant Sugiyura, the OOD. “If our information is correct every American ship heading to or from the combat zone passes right through here. And not a target in sight.” Captain Ishii looks up from his chair.

“No enemy search planes, either,” he says. “Perhaps our intelligence is correct and this is a seam in their patrol arcs. If we are spotted we may find more enemy ships and planes than we care to. Patience, Lieutenant. This is the open ocean, not the Inland Sea in peacetime. If we wait long enough you will have some targets.”

“Yes sir,” says Sugiyura. “I know. It’s just that we have been targets for too long. I’m looking forward…” He has not taken his eyes off he ocean and now notes the task force making its next turn as they maintain position in slow, easy circles. “Helm, make your course three-oh-five,” he says.

“Three-oh-five, yes sir,” says the helmsman.

Captain Ishii considers reminding Sugiyura that they may well end up as targets before this mission is over but decides that this is nothing the bridge crew needs to hear. Let the men enjoy being hunters for a change, he thinks.

“Our own submarines are all around and we have our own search planes out,” he says. “When the enemy shows up we will know about it. But it may take a few days.”

“I can wait, sir,” says Sugiyura cheerfully. “And so can my torpedoes, though there are times I can hear them whispering to me in their tubes, telling me that they are eager to seek the hulls of enemy ships.”

“Lieutenant, torpedoes don’t whisper,” says Ishii judiciously.

“You are of course correct, sir,” says Sugiyura. He grins a wolfish kind of grin. “They roar.”

they do indeed roar

Just surfacing from lurk mode to say I'm still on board and still loving it! [&o]

CF,
 
Another lurker forced to the surface.  Well thought out and well written.
 
Thanks,
T Rav

bump

May 3, 1945

Location: 300 miles southwest of Marcus Island
Course: South
Attached to: TF 21
Mission: Surface combat
System Damage: 1
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 410

Orders: Proceed south and raid enemy shipping

---

The Japanese continue to hold position in what seems to be an empty ocean. No enemy ships are detected, no patrol planes seen, no periscopes or sonar contacts reported. They have seen nothing, nor have they been seen.

At least, not as far as they know. If some enemy plane or submarine has spotted them and transmitted their position undetected then the first sign of the enemy they are likely to see are waves of carrier planes. If they are indeed undetected then chance will determine what enemy ships sail into their net.

Either way there is nothing to do now but wait.

May 4, 1945

Location: 300 miles southwest of Marcus Island
Course: South
Attached to: TF 21
Mission: Surface combat
System Damage: 1
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 474

Orders: Proceed south and raid enemy shipping

---

Taiki comes off watch and goes up on deck for some air. It grows stiflingly hot in the radar room. Not like in the engine spaces, true, but still hot. Taiki is glad Hibiki was not fitted with radar during the long months the ship spent in the tropics.

On the fantail he comes across Riku, who is sitting a writing a letter.

“Petty Officer Takahashi,” says Riku with a nod.

“Seaman Ariga,” acknowledges Taiki laconically. “Writing to your wife?”

Riku nods. “I do not know when these letters will ever reach her, but it helps to write.”

“I understand,” says Taiki. He feels sympathy for Riku, who does not know what might happen to Nanami should Okinawa be invaded. For all they know the invasion might have already taken place. Either way the enemy’s air and sea blockade of the island is so tight that no one is going to risk precious cargo space on a transport plane getting mail in or out to civilians.

He watches Riku write for a moment. His friend’s face is somber and there are lines of worry around his eyes, lines that never really go away. Taiki thinks back to the start of the war and to the Riku he knew in those days. Back then all Riku worried about was how to get out of as many work details as possible, a man who was dedicated to cards, women and his money-making schemes. The man Taiki is looking at now is a better man, in some ways a very good man, but Taiki suddenly misses the boisterous humor and ready laugh of the old Riku.

“Three boys and three girls,” Taiki says suddenly. Riku looks up.

“You and Nanami would live long and happy lives together and have six children,” says Taiki, smiling. “That’s what the old fortune teller said, wasn’t it?” Riku looks confused for a moment, then his face clears and he smiles.

“Yes, Petty Officer,” he says. “That is what he said.” Taiki sits down beside Riku.

“Remember the first time we met her?” he says. “In Osaka? And how you were struck speechless and Shun came up and we learned that he was her father? Shun was so angry to see us talking to her that I thought he would burst a vein.” Riku laughs.

“I remember,” he says. “And then when his mother explained it was all right he tried to smile and that was such a frightening sight we ran away from there like scared children.”

The two men talk about old times for a while. Riku becomes more animated and there is much laughing. By the time Taiki finally gets up to leave some of the lines are gone from Riku’s face, at least for the moment.

May 5, 1945

Location: 540 miles east of Tinian
Course: South
Attached to: TF 21
Mission: Surface combat
System Damage: 2
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 421

Orders: Proceed south and raid enemy shipping

---

Rear Admiral Yamamoto, perhaps growing impatient, decides that his task force needs to penetrate deeper into enemy waters. As soon as night falls his force is headed further south. It is risky move, based on nothing but a hunch, but so is sitting for days on the edge of the enemy’s detection radius.

It is a dark night. The waning moon is in its last quarter and is at times obscured by the partial cloud cover. The sea is fairly calm. At 0120 hours Japanese radar detects a large force of ships coming straight at them from the west.

Yamamoto does not hesitate. He turns his own ships to meet the unknown enemy. The Japanese form up in three parallel columns. On each flank is a light cruiser, a heavy cruiser, and four destroyers while the center column has one light cruiser, two heavy cruisers, and six destroyers. The two forces are just over thirty kilometers apart and now begin to close at forty knots. It will not be long before contact is made.

---

Captain Ishii is on the bridge less than a minute after combat stations are ordered.

“What do we have, Exec?” he asks Lieutenant Miharu.

“Enemy ships closing with us from the west, sir,” responds Miharu. “It looks like a large force, composition unknown. We have been ordered to close with them.” Ishii turns to Lieutenant Kuwaki.

“I’ll take the conn,” he says.

“The conn is yours, sir,” Kuwaki responds.

For the next fifteen minutes there is quiet on the bridge except for murmured reports that various stations are manned and ready. Ishii leans forward and speaks into a voice tube.

“What do you see, radar?” Petty Officer Takahashi’s voice comes back up the tube.

“It looks like the enemy is in two columns, sir,” comes the reply. “Large ships, I estimate their speed at fifteen knots. Between ten and twenty ships, I think.”

Ishii glances across the darkened bridge at Lieutenant Miharu. “That’s too fast for freighters or troop transports,” he comments.*

“It could be almost anything,” says the lieutenant. After that they wait as the distance closes; the enemy does not alter course or speed. Finally, at 14,000 meters, Yamamoto orders his cruisers to open fire. Star shells burst over the enemy force as the cruiser’s 8” turrets roar and fling their first volley at the oncoming ships.

---

Fortune has placed the Japanese in front of a worthy prize; fourteen unescorted tankers, eastbound from Tinian. Yamamoto would perhaps have preferred to catch them westbound and full of fuel, but he is not inclined to complain. In fact it is some time before the lack of return fire finally convinces him there are no enemy warships present. By this time two of the tankers have been hit and the rest are scattering in every direction in lumbering, ungainly flight.

Yamamoto releases the ships in his two flank columns to operate independently while his main column continues ahead. Hibiki, the second ship in the starboard column, races into the night looking for a target.

---

“Range 4000 meters,” comes the report as Hibiki’s searchlight probes across the water and illuminates a fleeing ship.

“Helm, change course twenty degrees starboard,” says Ishii. “Lieutenant Kuwaki, open fire. Lieutenant Sugiyura, are you ready to launch torpedoes?”

“Yes sir!” replies Sugiyura. “If I can’t hit a target like that I’ll eat my stripes.” Ishii grins.

“Launch torpedoes,” he says. The destroyer’s four 5” guns are already finding the range a moment later when the ship rocks as a spread of torpedoes leap from their tubes and churn towards the tanker.

Their target, though no one aboard Hibiki knows it, is the somewhat awkwardly named Agwiworld. Launched in 1920, the 6771 ton tanker has operated in the Pacific since the start of the war. Now, however, she is about to become Hibiki’s latest and largest victim.

Two torpedoes strike the tanker on her starboard side, one amidships and one about forty feet behind the bow. The force of the explosions lifts the bow so high that the stern is nearly left awash. Flames are already erupting as she ship settles back, stricken.

This is not a target Hibiki’s gunners can miss. Shell after shell rips into the tanker, which is soon ablaze from one end to the other. Destroyer Akigumo comes up and adds her firepower to the attack but it is hardly needed. The tanker is obviously doomed.

Burning and sinking tankers dot the ocean. In the chaos perhaps half the tankers have slipped away. Yamamoto is not concerned; the enemy ships can’t get far and when the sun rises Ikoma’s air groups can hunt down the survivors. He collects his ships. It takes some time to resume formation in the darkness and it is approaching dawn before the Japanese task force turns back to the north. Behind them they leave sinking ships, an ocean fouled with patches of burning oil and other debris, and lifeboats filled with shocked survivors.

---

*In this Ishii is mistaken; he does not know that the newer American merchant ships, such as the Victory ships, are capable of cruising at 15 knots.

Hibiki (unlabeled, but that's her) beginning her attack on TK Agwiworld:

The art of aesthetic miniaturization of trees!!!!!!!!!!!

Good show!