THE NEW RONIN By Kurt Saxon
Chapter Five: SUPPLY BASE THREE
The old priest was awakened by hammering and made his way
to the end of the tunnel. The young men had been roused at dawn by Takeo
and had gone to the dock. They returned with boards and beams from the
warehouses. Takeo had rummaged around in the hold of the launch and found
hammers, nails and saws. Kuwahara had anticipated every step in getting
to the cave in his years of planning.
Takeo was not a builder but his knowledge of physics and
mechanics made shoring up a tunnel an elementary task. He directed each
of his comrades in whatever job he was most capable of doing properly.
He relegated Yasuo to fetching and carrying lumber. Yasuo considered this
a privilege and enjoyed the scenery and fresh air. Nor did he linger at
the task but carried and dragged and sweated as he imagined himself rehearsing
the role of a common laborer.
By ten a.m. the ceiling of the tunnel was as secure as
necessary and the digging began again. After about six hours of digging
and more shoring, Saburo shouted that they had hit concrete. The old priest
pushed through and directed them to dig down the face of the large concrete
door to the rear entrance.
After a few more hours of digging to the original floor
of the cave, they had cleared about four feet of space in front of the
door. Saburo and Yoshi heaved their shoulders against the massive cement
door with no result.
Kuwahara stopped them. "My comrades sealed the door with
rubber stripping so no moisture could get in. We had planned it that way
in case we decided to leave the cave for some time. Obviously, they sealed
themselves in. By now it has bonded at the outer edges so we will have
to force it with the jack."
Takeo leaned a beam against the earthen backdrop. Then,
holding a shorter length of beam against its middle, he turned the jack
sideways, propped between the concrete door and the jutting beam. After
a few turns of the jack handle, the concrete door slowly gave way. There
was an audible "whoosh" as air streamed past them into the supply cave.
Then Takeo and Saburo put their shoulders against the
concrete door and pushed it open. It was slow-going, as the door weighed
over two tons. The others crowded in excitedly to help push and finally
the last of the rubber stripping was passed and the door suddenly swung
smoothly on its hinges and they all piled on the floor in the blackness
of the cave.
The old priest shined his light in over the floundering
figures. It revealed a rock hewn cavern, eight feet high, ten feet wide
and fifty feet long. Its middle was piled six feet high with wooden cartons
painted with Japanese military markings.
Near the door was a compact generator on wheels. Kuwahara
opened its fuel tank and filled it with gasoline. After two pulls of the
starting cord the generator purred to life. The old priest then plugged
its cord into a socket connected to a line running along the cavern's floor
and the chamber was flooded with light.
The young men were astonished. "Lights after forty years!",
exclaimed Saburo. "How can it be?"
"As you can see," said Kuwahara, "this place is as dry
as dust. The cave was well sealed. Even so, I notice pans with oil and
wicks were set out to burn up all the oxygen so that even the moisture
in the air was eliminated, for the most part. Since the cavern was hollowed
out of solid rock, it could have been virtually airless for eternity."
"Then everything you told us is true," said Yoshi. "Can
you forgive us for our doubts?"
"There is nothing to forgive, my boy. No one with intelligence
could have believed me completely, since I omitted the facts of the preservation
of these supplies. Your knowing spirits brought you here. Your intelligent
doubts, coupled with your curiosity, caused you to come and see for yourselves
whether there was something to my story or not.
"Now that you have proven yourselves to be young men of
faith, let me show you some of our treasures." After a moment's searching
among the cartons, he began working at the lid of one with a small pry
bar he had stuck in his belt.
As the old priest struggled with the carton's lid, Takeo
examined the generator intently. "Sir," he said, "they didn't have gasoline
generators this compact forty years ago."
"Of course not," grunted Kuwahara, still working away
at the lid. "Lieutenant Sakai designed and built it himself."
With a squawk of resisting nails the lid finally loosened.
Inside the carton were paper wrapped, grease covered Nambu pistols. After
unwrapping one, the old priest wiped the grease off with a rag he had been
using for a headband.
"Now what do you think of this?" he asked the wide-eyed
young men. "This is a Nambu 14, eight millimeter automatic pistol, never
fired. There are fifty of these pistols in this one box."
Saburo took it from his hand and, after examining it,
passed it around among the others. None of them had ever held a pistol
and now they were co-owners of a huge room full of every kind of World
War II Japanese weapon they were familiar with.
Kuwahara continued, "Last year it came to me strongly
that you would appear soon. I contacted an American collector and seller
of weapons and war souvenirs, based in Tokyo. Without telling him how many
I had or where they were, I asked him the cash money price for this model
pistol and various other items. My senses told me he was also a smuggler.
And to most Americans in the weapons business, governments are poor blind
things. No one will know of our dealings. He told me such a pistol, mint
and unfired, would bring nearly $l,000.00 American in the U. S. and he
would give me $300.00 each for all I could get."
"That's $15,000 for the the contents of this one box,"
said Takeo.
"Yes, and there are many such boxes. Rifles, helmets,
uniforms, mortars, machine guns, grenades; and what do you think of this?"
said the old priest, opening a large carton of light wood. In it were a
dozen or more pure silk kimonos of the most beautiful patterns and range
of colors.
"Even the geisha, based with our armies of occupation
were provided for. These will bring a fortune in Tokyo shops."
Yasuo was thrilled as he ran his hands over the rich fabrics
and examined the designs. "Now, this is the most dynamic," he said, holding
up one with a black background. "Notice how the green stems and the ferns
set off the blood red of the roses and the canary yellow chrysanthemums.
A masterpiece of design. I envy the artist who created this."
"Yes," said the old priest. "That one is the most beautiful."
"Then what say we reward Takeo for his greater share of
the work. Don't you think Kemiko would look lovely in this Takeo?" said
Yasuo.
Takeo shook his head. "That would bring a lot of money.
Besides, Kemiko knows I couldn't afford such a present. Also, my effort
deserves no special reward."
Kuwahara then folded the kimono and pushed it toward Takeo.
"Nonsense, my boy. The highest price we could get for all these kimonos
would be as nothing compared to the wealth we have here. Just tell Kemiko
an old man rewarded you with a family treasure for some service. And by
the way, any of you are welcome to take a share of anything which is legal
to own."
Takeo then took the kimono after expressing a simple "Thank
you."
"We are truly wealthy," said Saburo. "It's like a dream.
But it somehow seems familiar."
"To me, it also seems familiar," said Yasuo. "I've had
a recurrent dream of this place since childhood." He then burst into tears
and wept softly.
"There he goes again," said Minoru, disgustedly, wiping
his own eyes. "But enough of this emotionalism. Let's get down to business.
This is a lot, for us. But it will soon be gone. So we should form a corporation
and invest the proceeds so we can finance our master's mission. Even I
know there is a higher purpose in all this."
That was the first time either of the young men had referred
to the old priest as their master. Not a flick of an eyelash showed that
any of them say the term as unusual.
As he resealed the lid on the carton of kimonos, Kuwahara
said, "Good thinking, Minoru. This is indeed a bequest from Heaven, so
must be managed with all the skills your studies have given to you. But
you are mistaken in thinking that this you see here is all there is."
When the lid was secure he made his way to the end of
the chamber and forced open a wooden door. It led to a corridor five feet
wide and eight feet high. The flashlights showed no end to it. Every few
feet, the flashlights showed similar doors.
Kuwahara purposefully marched down the corridor, going
from one side of the corridor to the other, throwing open doors. The flashlights
showed dimly, compartment after compartment piled high with goods of all
descriptions. "There are over two hundred such chambers," said the old
priest. The cynical Tadashi quietly pounded his head on the corridor wall.
As the rest proceeded down the corridor with the fuel
can, Kuwahara continued, "We were assigned to this island in 1938 when
the High Command had plans to garrison the entire Pacific Theater. Since
all installations had to be designed according to differing terrains, most
of the various project heads were allotted building materials and labor
crews with little or no supervision from the mainland.
"This was true in our case and we just kept tunneling
and hollowing out like a gang of moles. Ours was designated as 'Supply
Base Three'. In all the requisitions, invoices and bills of lading, I never
saw one reference to bases One or Two. Such was the secrecy of the military,
although I'm certain there was a Base One and Two, I have no idea how many
more there were, if any."
As they neared the end of the corridor, the old priest
pushed open another door and instructed Yoshi to put only about a quart
of gasoline in the fuel tank of a second generator. When the lights in
this chamber flashed on he said, "Takeo, I thought you might be interested
in our workshop. Actually, it was Lieutenant Sakai's workshop but occasionally
he would let us play with his toys."
Takeo's jaw dropped as he gazed with wonder at what could
have passed as a modern, or even futuristic, machine shop. Kuwahara went
over to a chain hoist to which was attached the engine of a Zero fighter
plane. He reached out and with his little finger, touched the chain pull.
The massive engine rose off the floor. "With this hoist a tiny child could
lift up to eight tons. Designed by Lieutenant Sakai. This engine was his
last project. He made new pistons on that lathe over there, again of his
own design, and completely reworked the engine. He got it going and it
made little noise. He tested it with his meters and such and said it would
make the plane fly about a hundred miles per hour faster, using only one-third
the fuel.
"Incidentally, one of the chambers holds replacement parts
ferried out here, from which at least twenty complete Zeros could be assembled.
They would fly, too. Each would be worth over a million U. S. dollars.
Or you could assemble and arm them with the munitions stored here and start
your own war. I'm joking, of course."
Takeo was barely listening as he went from one machine
to the other, turning them on. In a few minutes they were all on and humming
and purring with no noise as is heard in the average machine shop.
"It might also interest you to know that this whole machine
shop will run at least a full hour on only one quart of fuel in the generator,"
said Kuwahara.
"Master," said Saburo, "why wasn't this technology incorporated
into the war effort?"
The old priest chuckled. "You must have Tadashi give you
lessons in bureaucracy. Much of Japan's modern technology was developed
during the war but not implemented until years later under private enterprise.
Besides, war is chaos. Before the war, those preparing for it were organized.
But once the shooting started and the bombs began to fall, little wartime
technology could be put into effect.
"Also, Lieutenant Sakai resented the war. He resented
people. He seldom talked. Aside from his job, which he did well, he had
no other activity except for his machines. From a small shop out there
he moved in here and worked up to sixteen hours a day on a project. A few
hours sleep, his duties, and back he'd come. In slack periods he often
took his meals and slept here."
Takeo caught snatches of this and thought Lieutenant Sakai
would have been one of the few men he could have related to. As Takeo examined
the lathe, the finest and most precise he had ever seen, Saburo questioned
Kuwahara more about the functions of Supply Base Three.
"We had thousands of boats on the mainland, from schooners
to fishing trawlers, which were of little use in battle and of relatively
short rang. They could carry from a few tons to a few hundred tons of supplies.
Our government requisitioned the services of these boats, on a temporary
basis, to ferry light armaments, parts and other supplies out here. The
heavier equipment, such as trucks and tanks, were shipped directly from
the mainland to the war zones by freighters. The use of smaller vessels
released many freighters to go back and forth between the island supply
bases and the battle zones without having to return to the mainland.
"The High Command of our sector would make requisitions
to the mainland for supplies to be ferried out here. We would then load
them aboard freighters to be taken to our Pacific combat zones. We also
sent back requisitions from ship captains covering amenities and anything
else the High Command neglected to ask for.
"After the Battle of Midway, when we learned from ship
captains that our cause was lost, we feared an eventual invasion and occupation
of the mainland. Our purpose then was to store up supplies for the resistance.
It was then that we accelerated and filled these chambers with as much
war material as we could manage. This was material slated for ships which
never arrived to pick it up. Rather than let it weather away on the dock,
or send it back and thus cause bureaucratic confusion, we just stored it.
"Needless to say, every ship that docked here for supplies
was given all its captain asked for, and more. We even plied the ship captains
with luxuries, of which we had plenty, so they would make regular exchanges
of laborers. In this way, we had a steady turnover in work crews so that
no one on Supply Base Three, besides ourselves, had any idea of the actual
extent of our operations. Each crew was told it was digging a bomb shelter.
The long corridor and some doors meant nothing to simple infantrymen and
laborers.
"Besides, we worked them like animals, poor fellows, so
they were too exhausted to question anything. And after each crew completed
a chamber, we rewarded them with combat duty. So I doubt if anyone ever
knew what we were up to.
"Takeo, come along now. You will have plenty of time later
to play with the machines."
Takeo followed sullenly as the old priest shut off the
generator and led them the few paces to the dock end of the corridor. That
end had been cemented closed, hiding and sealing the collapsed entrance
to the complex.
Kuwahara then opened the last door on the right into a
larger chamber, twenty by fifty feet. Their flashlights revealed a three
foot wide corridor running thirty feet to another door.
"Bring the gasoline," said the old priest. "The other
generator is in here."
When the generator was started, Kuwahara turned on the
lights, revealing the living quarters of the supply officers. There were
four, eight by seventeen feet, well appointed apartments for two men each.
"These were our quarters where we lived and did our work.
As you can see, they were well furnished. And it is true we had the finest
of food and drink. Our constant company was ship captains, Army officers
and others who could keep us informed with the latest, uncensored news
from home and the battle fronts. For our pleasure, we had the companionship
of all the comfort girls off-loaded here on their way to entertain the
troops.
"We were all from good samurai families. So these amenities
made up in a small way for our bitterness at not being privileged to fall
in battle for our Emperor. But it is only fair to admit that we had all
a grateful country had to offer her soldiers.
"You will notice we were a little cramped for space. We
could each have had a whole chamber to himself. However, we felt a show
of some austerity was in order as a concession to the war."
In each compartment were two desks. On each desk was a
diary with the name of its owner written on the cover. The old priest picked
up one and said, "This was my diary, which I will take with me. I will
give you each the diary of the man I consider most like you. We never read
each other's diaries and it is still up to you to decide if you want to
share the contents of the ones I give you."
He picked up Captain Anoka's diary and handed it to Saburo.
To Hideki he handed Sergeant Saito's diary. Yoshi reverently accepted Sergeant
Ohnishi's. To Tadashi he handed Lieutenant Genda's; to Takeo, Lieutenant
Sakai's; to Minoru, Sergeant Kozono's and to Yasuo, Sergeant Tanaka's.
For several minutes they each read excerpts from the diaries
to themselves. For the most part, they were filled with day-to-day reminders
of work to be done and already done. Also, there were accounts of incidents
occurring on the island. Most important, however, were the personal reflections
of the eight supply officers on their thoughts concerning the war, their
comrades and their hoped-for futures.
Of most interest were the last entries. Saburo spoke up
after reading Captain Anoka's final entry. "Master, this concerns you.
'September 4, 1945. The inventory of all the supplies has been completed
and handed in. Genda's was the last report. Except for Sakai, all the men
busied themselves at this fruitless task. Sakai still refuses to come out
of his shop. Three weeks, now. I told him through the door this morning
that the others are disappointed in him. He doesn't care. I lost patience
and shouted for him to come out. He said he would if I gave him a proper
military order or suggested something sensible to him. So I suppose he'll
die of old age in there.
'How we miss Kuwahara. For some reason I can't understand,
he was the glue that held us together. No matter how discouraged or bored
we became, he could always bring our morale up with the idea that our work
was directed toward a higher purpose. Now that he is gone we can't see
it that way.
'Often I have wished I had left with him. He is presumed
dead and therefore most fortunate. Tanaka believes him to be alive and
still with us in spirit. I cannot sense it but feel a kind of peaceful
resignation whenever I think of him.
"Radio reports have killed all hopes of resistance. Without
Kuwahara, our supplies must wait for a future time. It was he who gave
us the zeal to store it all. Thinking back, it seems like it was his idea
in the first place. Or perhaps he just waited for me to come up with a
random thought and then congratulated me on my brilliance, using such a
thought to keep us busy. Or maybe he did see a high purpose in it'"
"Was it your idea, Master?" asked Minoru.
"No," replied Kuwahara. "But I'll admit I did adopt it
with all the enthusiasm I had in me. The supplies were piling up on the
dock and the paperwork in having them ferried back in the privately owned
boats unloading more supplies would have caused a nightmare. And most of
it would have been pilfered on the way back. Storing it was a logical way
out of the problem. It did keep us going and as I did then, I still believe
the idea was inspired."
He then opened the drawers of the desk which had been
used in life by Captain Anoka. The second drawer held a neatly bound ledger
of all the men's inventories of every carton in every chamber. A random
glance showed 10,139 grenades, 342 cases of brandy, 156,500 rounds of 7.7-mm
rifle and machine gun ammo, 3,930 uniforms by size, rank and style, 480
mortars,etc. It was also indexed and cross-indexed by Sergeant Ohnishi,
showing the location of every item by chamber and chamber section.
"This will save us from rummaging around for things, won't
it?" said Tadashi, for lack of anything better to say.
All the young men but Takeo and Yasuo were taking some
time to absorb the enormity of their good fortune, added to by the inventorying.
But Yasuo was still lost in the poetic musings of Sergeant Tanaka. Lieutenant
Sakai had made few notes concerning his duties or day-to-day experiences.
Instead, he filled his diary with diagrams and notes on experiments and
detailed explanations of all his methods of improving his machinery.
To Takeo, this was a treasure far more valuable than the
contents of the chambers. As he leafed to the end of Lieutenant Sakai's
diary, including the transposed notes of his activities during his three
week sulk, he came upon the final entry. "September 5, 1945. It is over.
We are a militarily defeated people. We have paid the price for being backward.
"We did not lose to better ideas, greater courage or rightness
of cause. We were defeated by superior technology. The only thing that
sets Man apart from the lower animals is his tools. Until our people realize
this, we will never be above war."
As Takeo pondered how a dead soldier could have so completely
shared his thoughts, Kuwahara led them out of the apartment complex and
back into its corridor. Then he hesitated outside an ornately carved wood
door.
"In here will be the final resting place of my comrades.
It was our place of meditation and our shrine."
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