Edge of Valor (38 page)

Landa said quietly. “Damnation. I believe we have an international incident.”

Dezhnev's face grew red. He doubled his fists and then visibly relaxed and held out the Bell & Howell. The cameras were exchanged.

Radcliff, Peoples, Berne, and Hammer immediately closed ranks, standing shoulder to shoulder and making it difficult for Dezhnev to see, let alone take a shot. Dezhnev tried to move sideways, but Gunnery Sergeant Harper squeezed in with his Marines.

“Please,” said Dezhnev.

Harper turned, “Something wrong, Ivan?”

Blinde said, “Gentlemen, please.”

Radcliff said, “Take a hike, Benedict.” He caught Ingram's eye and they exchanged winks.
Justice
.

“Attention on deck.” A commander stood at the microphone.

Ingram checked his watch: 0900.

The chattering crowd fell silent and drew to attention. Their joking ceased. Faces became solemn and hard, registering retribution and revenge. To a man, their eyes were fixed on the table with the instruments of surrender laid out upon it.

The shrill whistle of a boatswain's pipe echoed from the accommodation ladder. The sideboys snapped to attention. A man in a top hat laboriously worked his way up the quarterdeck accommodation ladder. Proceeding with great difficulty, he finally gained the main deck.

“Who?” whispered White.

“Shhhh . . . it's Shigemitsu,” Landa replied softly as Japan's foreign minister limped with obvious difficulty across the deck.

Ingram pointed and whispered, “Amazing.”

“What?” rasped Landa.

“They're saluting.” Indeed all officers and enlisted in ranks were saluting the Japanese party as they crossed the main deck. The Japanese officers returned the salutes.

Shigemitsu hobbled to the veranda deck ladder and once again struggled to work his way up. At one point Col. Sydney Mashbir reached out to help, but Shigemitsu shrugged it off and finally stepped to the veranda deck on his own. He took a place ten feet before the great table and a Japanese general stepped up beside him. Two ranks of five and four Japanese delegates took positions behind them. Four of the delegates were in civilian attire; seven wore uniform with ribbons. No swords or any other weapons were in sight.

Landa said softly, “Alongside Mr. Shigemitsu is General Umezu, representing those friendly folks who brought you World War II.”

The ship's chaplain, a four-striper, stepped up to the microphone. The PA system echoed: “Let us bow our heads . . .” The chaplain said a prayer and then blessed the proceedings against a backdrop of clicking shutters, popping flashbulbs, and grinding movie cameras. Then he stepped away. The Americans snapped to attention as the national anthem rang through the ship.

There was an awkward silence. Seagulls squawked, waves slapped the
Missouri
's hull, an LCVP diesel growled down the port side, and aircraft droned in the distance. Then Gen. Douglas MacArthur, Fleet Adm. Chester W. Nimitz, and Adm. William F. Halsey Jr. stepped through a hatch and strode to the podium. They turned and faced forward. MacArthur was at the microphone, with Nimitz and Halsey just behind him. Halsey's expression was reminiscent of a cowhand ready for a barroom brawl.

General MacArthur raised a single page of notes and began, “We are gathered here today . . .”

Ingram was captivated by MacArthur's eloquence. It was almost as if he were on stage, his oration that of a Shakespearean actor. Further, it was how the general formed his sentences and how each phrase struck home efficiently and to the point. Ingram was particularly moved by the general's expressed desire to “conclude a solemn agreement whereby peace may be restored. The issues, involving divergent ideals and ideologies, have been determined on the battlefields of the world and hence are not for our discussion or our debate.”

Period. This man is not just some blundering footsoldier looking to grab headlines. He's telling us the Japanese are not to be tortured, or shot, or beheaded, or even pilloried. He's telling the onlookers to put aside their thirst for blood. There is great respect and tolerance here, almost as if they are signing a tariff or trade agreement
.

“It is my earnest hope,” MacArthur continued, “indeed the hope of all mankind—that from this solemn occasion a better world shall emerge out of the blood and carnage of the past, a world founded upon faith and understanding, a world dedicated to the dignity of man and the fulfillment of his most cherished wish for freedom, tolerance, and justice.”

MacArthur paused. A gust of wind whistled through the upperworks. Then, as if cued by a stagehand, the clouds parted and a shaft of sunlight broke through. The crowd drew a collective breath as the sun glinted off Mount Fuji in the distance.

At that, MacArthur continued, “I now invite the representatives of the emperor of Japan and the Japanese Imperial Headquarters to sign the instrument of surrender at the places indicated.”

Foreign Minister Shigemitsu hobbled forward. An aide pulled out the chair, and he sat. Then he picked up the pen and looked at the document . . . and looked at the document. Seconds passed and he kept looking . . . scanning, poring over the document.

“What the hell?” muttered Landa.

The crowd's mood darkened.
Is this guy reneging? Another Jap trick?
A few looked anxiously to the sky. Admiral Halsey looked furious, as if he were ready to walk over and throttle Shigemitsu.

“Sutherland,” MacArthur barked, “Show him where to sign.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

2 September 1945

USS
Missouri
(BB 63), Tokyo Bay, Japan

L
t. Gen. Richard Sutherland stepped from ranks and walked to the table, taking possibly some of the boldest and significant steps in the history of diplomacy. He leaned over and pointed to the spot where Minister Shigemitsu was to sign.

“Ah!” Shigemitsu jolted up as if he had been shocked but immediately bent over, lifted the pen, and scratched his signature on both copies.

The crowd exhaled.
Halfway there
.

Pushing on his cane, Shigemitsu rose and hobbled back to his place at the head of the Japanese delegates.

The crowd drew another breath as stiffly, General Yoshijiro Umezu stepped up to the table. Ignoring the proffered chair, he leaned over and signed his name on both documents.

Done
. Another sigh whispered across the ship as the entire company exhaled. Some looked around. Halsey seemed a bit less peevish. Ingram and Landa exchanged glances.
History
.

General Umezu stepped back into ranks.

General MacArthur, now flanked by Gen. Jonathan Wainwright and Lieutenant-General Arthur Percival, stepped up, sat at the table, and signed the documents as supreme commander of the Allied Powers. General Sutherland stood just behind them. Ingram spotted General Willoughby and Otis DeWitt among a number of American admirals and generals standing two rows back.

Ingram was shocked by Wainwright's appearance. He was famously thin—his nickname was “Skinny”—but this man looked positively shriveled. His skin was yellow, and his weight could not have been above 110 pounds. Percival didn't look that much better, a testament to the cruelty of Japanese imprisonment for more than three years. It was a wonder either man could stand at all.
Yet, both remained braced to attention as the supreme commander of the Allied Powers used five fountain pens to ink his name. He passed the first two pens to Wainwright and Percival; of the others, one would go to West Point, one to the Naval Academy, and the last was for his wife, Jean.

MacArthur stood and Nimitz took his place. Halsey and Adm. Forrest Sherman moved up behind him, and Nimitz signed for the United States of America.

One by one, representatives of the rest of the Allies signed, beginning with General Hsu Yung-Chang for China. Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser signed for the United Kingdom. After that, Lieutenant-General Kuzma Nikolayevich Derevyanko stepped from the front row, sat, and penned his name for the Soviet Union.

On the veranda deck below, Dezhnev stepped from the ranks, dropped to a knee, and took his photos.

“Jerk,” said Radcliff. “How'd he get there?”

“Wonder if we can shove a chair down on his head?” asked Landa.

A Navy captain seated in the row before them turned. “Sssssst! These are our friends.”

“Not as of two weeks ago,” said Ingram.

The captain turned in his chair. “Young man, what is your name and unit?”

Landa said, “May I introduce Commander Pigshit of the USS
Hoghumper
.”

The captain stood and looked Landa up and down. “And you are . . . ?”

The crowd quieted. Some of the flag officers looked up to the commotion as General Sir Thomas Blamey sat and signed for Australia. Otis DeWitt looked up wearing a perturbed expression as General Blamey rose and gave the seat to Colonel Moore-Cosgrove, who sat, picked up the pen, and signed for Canada.

The two captains stood face-to-face; Ingram and Landa took in the man's collar tab: supply corps. Landa said, “Sit, pork chop, before you piss off every flag officer in the western Pacific.”

“I . . .” The supply officer looked down to see Otis DeWitt staring right at him. Toliver too.

“Too late, loser.” Landa pointed. “See that BG down there? That's Otis DeWitt. He works for General MacArthur. By sundown he will have pulled enough strings to make sure the Navy Department busts you to ensign. For the next five years you'll be counting toilet paper rolls in Barstow, California. Now sit!”

The man sat.

Peoples snickered.

Landa scowled.

General Jacques Leclerc finished signing for France, and Admiral C. E. L. Helfrich signed for the Netherlands with a flourish. Last to step up to the table was Air Vice-Marshal Sir L. M. Isitt, who signed for New Zealand.

Isitt stood and resumed his place in ranks. The ship remained silent as General MacArthur stepped back to the mike and paused. A gull squawked; a
51-foot personnel boat growled down the port side. High above, at the yardarm, the flags of MacArthur, Nimitz, and Halsey fluttered as a zephyr lifted them. Above them, at the top of the foremast, the Stars and Stripes stiffened.

General MacArthur said, “Let us pray that peace now be restored and that God will preserve it always. These proceedings are now closed.”

Sutherland fussed with the folios then handed Shigemitsu his copy. The Japanese turned, and Colonel Mashbir led them back toward the ladder to the main deck. A great rumbling arose to the east. The noise grew louder and louder. Everyone looked up. Ingram shaded his eyes as he counted at least twenty B-29s approaching in formation with more on the way, their great Wright R-3350 engines hammering the sky.

“Holy cow,” said Landa.

B-29s, tens of them. Following behind were hundreds of carrier planes: Corsairs, Hellcats, Avengers, and Helldivers, most of them in tight formations, swooping in from the east like Vulcan's thunder. Ingram felt the noise through his feet as the armor-plated deck vibrated beneath him.

“Hell of a show,” said White.

Berne stood fast, his camera grinding. Ingram looked down to see Dezhnev clicking away on the veranda deck. The crowd was breaking up as men headed for the gangway and their boats. The Japanese were lined up at the accommodation ladder and headed down to their boat waiting below. Once again he saw the sideboys and officers at the quarterdeck saluting the Japanese. And once again the Japanese returned the salutes.

Tubby White looked at him, “Military courtesy?”

Ingram nodded. “Strange,” he said, “what the stroke of a pen can do.”

Men gathered in groups on the 01 deck and chatted as they awaited their turn to descend the ladder to the main deck. The officers seated before Ingram's group rose and turned to head down the turret ladders. The supply captain made to step past Landa. “Excuse me.”

“Of course, Ensign. Don't forget to wash your underwear.”

The man gave Landa a sour look but moved on.

Ingram followed Landa down the ladder and said, “Jerry, you really know how to make friends. I am so happy to serve under your mentorship and influence. What would we all do without you?”