A Bridge Of Magpies

26 February 1936

New York Times
report: 'The Japanese army, led by revolutionary elements, has taken over the government of Japan. The situation is confused, and shooting is reported from the centre of Tokyo and around the Imperial Palace. Violence and assassination seem to have been directed principally at members of the Cabinet and holders of prominent offices of state close to the Emperor. Among those reported to have been marked out for elimination are the Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal;
the
Grand Chamberlain to the Emperor; the Emperor's closest adviser and Japan's most honoured elder statesman, Prince Kinmochi Saionji; as well
as
other traditional hereditary office-bearers, some of whose titles date back many centuries .

27 February 106

Red Army Fourth Bureau, Intelligence, Moscow. Receipt of urgent dispatch from Head, Far East spy ring, Tokyo: 'Sorge to Fourth Bureau. Motivations for the 2/26 Incident are complex and the murder of hereditary office-bearers close to the Emperor requires careful study. Only one person was observed by
agents
to have passed through the army cordons surrounding the Imperial Palace during the first twenty-four hours of the coup. He was a young naval ensign in full uniform. He was seen to be carrying a small, well-wrapped parcel and was admitted–apparently by prior arrangement –at a small secret side door of the Palace. Because of a snowstorm, identification was impossible. He re-emerged a short time afterwards still carrying the same parcel. It is not known what his purpose was in visiting the Palace and it seems unlikely that such a junior officer would be admitted to audience with the Emperor.

'The ensign successfully re-negotiated the cordons – probably due to his uniform–and was traced to
a
small central Tokyo hotel.
He came
away from
it
dressed in civilian clothes, then made his way to the docks. Here he boarded a cargo
7

ship, the
Brazil-man.,
due to sail on the next tide for Cape Town, South Africa. The significance of this incident is obscure, but, because of its link with the Imperial Palace, is given in some detail.'

1 June 1943

Signal intercepted
by
code-breakers at United States Combat Intelligence HQ, Pearl Harbour: 'Japanese Fleet HQ to
Befehlshaber der Unterseebote
(C-in-C U-boats).
U-160,
now refitting Japanese base at Penang, Malaya, assigned to carry out pick-up mission at Bridge of Magpies, South West Africa. Your agent code-named Swakop will be landed and our man Tsushima will be brought off. Suggest active operations by
U-
160
against Allied shipping be banned in view of importance of mission.'

2 June 1943

BdU to Japanese Fleet
HQ:
'Mission agreed.
Kapitan
zur
See
Schlebusch to command. Schlebusch experienced in Cape waters, served in wolf-packs
Gruppe Eisbar
and
Seehund.
Cannot agree to restriction hostile operations.
U-160
will, however, confine attacks to unescorted ships out of convoy; or warships.'

7 July 1943

Signal received by escort commander of convoy bound from Walvis Bay to Cape Town: 'Most immediate. C-in-C South Atlantic to commodore convoy WV.5BX. Strong enemy D /F bearings reported Possession Island area. Probably U-boat'

Commodore WV.5BX to C-in-C South Atlantic: 'Convoy turned away 240 degrees. Sound heavy guns down-horizon vicinity Possession. Proceeding utmost dispatch in frigate
Gousblom
to investigate'

Liner
City of Baroda
to C-in-C: 'SSSS . . . SSSS ... am being attacked by U-boat . . . Possession Island area . , . SSSS .

20.15 hours

U-160
to BdU: 'British liner
City of Baroda
8,000 tons, hit by two of quadruple spread torpedoes position Grid Merten P6 Lat. 27° oo'S., Long. 15° 1

Possession Channel.'

8

20.30 hours

Frigate
Gousblom
to C-in-C: 'Strong U-boat contact Possession Channel. Eight depth charges dropped. Continuing attack.
City of Banda
seriously damaged, attempting to beach,'

20.40 hours

C-in-C to Convoy WV.5BX: 'Corvettes
Vygie
and
Aandblom
to proceed maximum speed to assist
Gousblom:
21.15 hours

U-160
to BdU: 'Attacked by frigate Flower
elms.
Blew up following two hits ex stern tubes.
U-160's main
ballast pumps damaged by attack, unable to dive. Jettisoned eight
mines.
Proceeding seawards partly submerged. Will signal position 06.00 hours dawn tomorrow,'

22.15 hours

Corvette
Vygie to
C-in-C: 'Unable to enter Possession Channel due to presence drifting mines and rising gale. No U-boat contact but sighted oil slick.
City of Baroda
ashore at Bridge of Magpies.
Gousblom
presumed sunk:

8 July 1943

06.30 hours

BdU to
U-160:
'Report your position immediately.'

10.00 hours

BdU to
U-160: 'Report
your position immediately.
Repeat,
report your position immediately. Repeat, report your position immediately • . 9

`Master of the Equinoxes, Lord of the Solstice! The splendidsounding title is engraved on one face of the blade of a knife which lies on my desk as I write. It is dark and discoloured. It is an unusual weapon: a thin, pointed blade, widening abruptly at the hilt, which is very flat and hammered out of copper. A design has been tooled into the metal: a seascape about three inches long and half an inch broad, showing a setting sun, and ships sinking after battle. On the reverse side of the blade are scribbled the last words the Master wrote with the lead tip of a Taisho pistol bullet, using it like a pencil, after he had plucked the knife from his side
'
Mei fa tzu! –
ìt is fate!' These words underwrite not only his own fate, but add a strange and awesome new dimension
to
two of the great decisive naval victories of the twentieth century: Pearl Harbour and Tsushima.

Looking back on it, the Greek island of Santorin, on the Mediterranean tourist cruise belt about sixty miles north of Crete, was an improbable curtain-raiser for the desperate events half a world away on the Sperrgebiet, or forbidden diamond
coast
of South West Africa, which ended the Master's eight-hundred-year-old reign of influence. Had I been able even to guess at them I would have dismissed them as
being as
unreal as a nightmare, that soft late afternoon when I sailed my boat into Santorin's great lagoon in the sunset and headed towards the landing-place at Thera.
The
town's whitewashed houses on the cliff-top were still brilliantly spotlighted by the sun although the bay nearly
a
thousand feet below was darkening and taking on those unbelievable sapphires, blues, reds and golds which drive tour-, ists and artists ecstatic. I had really meant to tie up off the villa of Oia situated at the northern tip of the thirty-sevenmile crescent which constitutes the spectacular bay of Santwin. Thera is another three miles away; if I had carried out my first intention the odds are that I would never have received the summons which was waiting for me or, by the time I had, it would have been too out of date to be acted upon. What really switched me on to sail those extra miles was the prospect of a bottle of Thera's subtly sweet wine, because I'd had a blistering hot sail from Athens to Santorin on the
meltemi
or prevailing north wind. There is a bar on Thera's jetty, too, within
easy
reach of a mooring shelf of rock, compared with the mere offshore buoy at Oia. There is
no
regular
steamer service to Santorin, only an intermittent cruise liner. Its berth was unoccupied on this occasion, which meant I'd have the bar virtually to myself. These were the small things which decided me in favour of Thera. Clad in my old jeans
I
splashed up to the knees in the warm Mediterranean water to make the
Orga
fast, while the sun projected its last theatrical effects on to the knife-edged cliffs soaring to the white town perched high above. I waded ashore to the jetty. The bar was built out of wine barrels, the lower ones full and the top ones empty, with-a canvas awning for a roof and a bright blue curtain across the back. The barrels creaked like a ship from the lift of the floating jetty. It was a good place to rinse from ones mouth, with wine, the salt of a hard sail, and to have the sea and your boat right there at your back, a spit away, if you got drunk.

'A bottle of Merovigli, Gigi.'

'My name's Annette, not

'You look like Gigi to me, Annette.'

'You get stoned again tonight, mister?'

'This is plain honest thirst, Gigi.
It
was bloody hot coming from Athens.'

She was dark, pretty, half Greek
and half Alexandrian
French. At twenty she could have
been ravishing,
properly made up; at forty she would be a hag. Her untidy blouse was too tight, and showed a tantalizing curve of white breast in the half-dark of the bar. Like me, she was barefoot. She placed the bottle of wine in front of me. The first taste made that extra sail across the bay worthwhile.

'Does Professor Cacouris know you drink so much, mister?' `

What the hell's eating you tonight, Gigi?'

'I just wonder whether the professor knows, that's all. All those precious vases and things he gives you
to
take to Athens in your boat'

'The best stuff doesn't go with me. I carry only the secondraters.'

12

'That's not what I hear, mister; '

Call me Struan.'

'I can't say it. It's a horrid name.' '

Good. Scots.'

-'

It'shorrid because she must have used it!

'Who's she?'

'The girl you ran away from. To Santorin.'

'For crying out! You're letting your imagination run away with you. Okay, then, if you're going to be unfriendly, stick to Mister Weddell.'

She leaned over the plank bar top. I'm not unfriendly; I'm only concerned:

'Good. Then you're falling in love'

'I would like to, but there's too much going on inside you. You would like me only for a little while in your bed. Then you'd be tired of me and I would be unhappy.'

'Let's stick to ancient vases and the prof's excavations. That way there'll be no emotional spin-off.'

'You don't want to talk about yourself, mister. You want the wine to talk.'

'In that case you'd better bring another bottle. Skates, this time. Good, strong rough Maros'

'Your hair is much too long. It is long and blonde like a woman's.'

'There's no one to see it at sea.'

'You need a shave. Your shirt is dirty.'

'For Crissake, Gigi, put a sock in it!'

'A woman would be good for
you,
mister.'

'When I want a woman I know where I can get one.' '

It's not that sort of woman you
want,
You want – a
real
woman.'

'Listen, Gigi, I could have stopped off at Oia if I'd wanted. I came here for a friendly bottle of wine, not
a
load of bitching.'

'You came because you're frightened of being alone, mister. You could just as well have gone on to the excavation site.'

Barbed wire, pumice dust, a spooky old place which blew up and killed everyone 3,500 years ago! No thanks!'

She
was
right, of course. Professor Cacouris was busy excavating an ancient Minoan city, on the southern horn of Santorin's bay, which was destroyed in one of the great natural disasters of antiquity. It ranks as one of the archaeo13 logical finds of the century. The principal treasures have been the superb frescoes which surpass any found elsewhere in the Mediterranean, including the famous ones from Knossos. There were also hundreds of pots, amphorae and vases; these provided me with profitable cargoes for the Archaeological Museum in Athens. The site was so valuable that it had been strongly fenced