Operation Storm: Japan's Top Secret Submarines and Its Plan to Change the Course of World War II (56 page)

As lights from the
Pisces IV
abruptly illuminate the sub’s bow, Kerby spots a launch ramp. A few minutes later he’s identified the hydraulic crane used to lift the sub’s
Seiran
. You can also see where the plane’s pontoons were stored between the catapult rails. Clearly, he’s discovered one of the
Sen-toku
subs, but which one? It’s hard to tell in what passes for day at 2,600 feet.

As Kerby flies farther down the sub, he soon makes a surprising discovery. The sub is broken in two just short of the sail, robbing him of a chance to identify which of the three
Sen-toku
subs he’s found. The section where the bow has separated looks like the worst sort of industrial accident. Piles of tangled metal litter the bottom some 30 feet high, suggesting the destructive forces at work. The torpedoes that sunk the sub have broken her in two. It’s almost painful to see.

Kerby enters the debris field to see where it leads him. A piece of deck section, with its triple-mount antiaircraft gun intact, appears in his viewport. There’s some marine growth on the barrels, otherwise they’re easily recognizable. As Kerby moves in for a closer look, one of his thrusters raises a cloud of sediment, obscuring his view. To the novice, it looks like
Pisces IV
is in trouble. There are lots of jagged pieces to damage a submersible, so Kerby backs away, giving the sandstorm time to disperse. As he later notes, “It’s always important to know where safe water is.”

The next big surprise comes when Kerby discovers the sub’s aircraft hangar. Separated from the rest of the hull, it’s planted in the ocean bottom like a javelin. You can barely make out its giant door buried in the sand. The rest of the hangar stands upright at a slight angle.

At some point during Kerby’s inspection, Cremer reports from the
Pisces V
that he’s found another sub east of his position.

“I think you’ve found this sub’s stern,” Kerby responds.

Submersible pilots don’t talk much. Motivated by the spirit of exploration, they’re sober minded in the driver’s seat. They don’t leap to conclusions, since the last thing they want is to make a scientific claim they can’t support. Kerby cautions Cremer to watch out for obstructions and then continues through the debris field.
Both men sound professional, though Cremer can’t quite keep the enthusiasm from infecting his voice. Aside from the clicking and whirring of machinery, the submersibles are quiet.

Once Cremer begins flying down the stern section, he can see that the hatches were left open to assist her sinking. An occasional shrimp attracted by the lights swims into view, and a ray can be seen gliding across the aft deck. The teak planks have long since rotted away, leaving only the metal cross braces, which could easily snag the skids on the
Pisces V
if Cremer gets too close.

When the boat’s 5.5-inch deck gun comes into view, there is surprisingly little marine growth, save for two sea fans on its barrel. The juxtaposition is almost funny. Unfortunately, the gun can’t identify the sub, since virtually all Japanese fleet boats carried the same weapon. HURL will have to proceed further if it hopes to make a positive identification.

Finally, as the
Pisces V
passes the sub’s midsection, video footage shows what appears to be her sail rising from the darkness. It’s speckled with yellow and red marine growth that looks surprisingly vibrant against the dark hull. The rungs of a ladder can be seen climbing up the outside just below where the sub’s designation should be. The laser dot triangle of the
Pisces
’s rangefinger shines against the plating like an alien targeting system.

As the high-def camera begins to pan, the characters “
I-4
” come into view. Part of the sail’s plating has peeled away, however, obscuring the rest of the ID. Which sub has HURL found? Is it the
I-400
or the
I-401
? A long-legged crab clinging to the hull tries skittering out of view. When the
Pisces
maneuvers to get a better angle, the lights finally illuminate what’s been hiding behind twisted steel. HURL has found Ariizumi’s flagship.

Incredibly, the single white “I” character followed by three numerals can still be read 59 years later. The boat’s designation was most likely painted by Americans, since the Japanese would not have drawn such a sloppy “I.” Nevertheless, there is no doubt this is Nambu’s sub, the same sub that he captained on the Storm mission and that the USS
Segundo
persuaded to surrender.

In subsequent video footage, one of the
Pisces
approaches the
I-401
’s bridge for closer inspection. The first thing you notice is that the sub’s periscope, a shiny sliver of silver, is fully extended. It positively gleams in the underwater lights; not a trace of corrosion mars its shaft. You can also see that the bridge hatch is open. Part of a ladder leading into the conning tower can be seen disappearing into the darkness. The bridge compass is missing, but a set of pressure-proof binoculars remains, ready to spot enemy ships on the horizon. You can also make out the voice tubes where Nambu would have shouted his orders while navigating on the surface.

After several hours inspecting the sub, it’s time for the
Pisces
to head upward. As they begin their one-hour ascent, they leave the
I-401
in darkness. It’s the same darkness that envelops Ariizumi on the other side of the world. In both cases, it’s a suitable resting place.

A
T THE START OF THE
G
REAT
P
ACIFIC
W
AR, THE
I
MPERIAL
J
APANESE
Navy had one of the best submarine forces in the world. The Sixth Fleet’s approximately 60 submarines were on par with many of the latest U.S. fleet boats.
^*
As the war progressed, the Japanese built an additional 126 boats, for a total of nearly 200 submarines.
¹
Yet by August 1945, the Sixth Fleet had only 50 subs left, and most of them were obsolete, damaged, or inoperable.
²
The Japanese lost at least 127 submarines during the war, including the unlucky
I-33
, which, after being sunk and refloated, was sunk a second time.
^†
3
By comparison, the U.S. Navy lost 52 subs.
⁴
The casualty rate for U.S. sub crews might have been the highest of any U.S. military branch,
⁵
but the number of Sixth Fleet deaths was staggering by comparison.

Western historians point to these statistics when dismissing the Sixth Fleet as ineffective. And though it’s true the IJN made glaring errors in administering its sub force, the courage and resolve of
Sixth Fleet crews was impressive, as were their accomplishments in the face of declining resources, poor management, and a resourceful enemy. Certainly, Japanese sub technology did not keep pace with the United States. Despite this drawback, the Sixth Fleet managed to produce the
I-201
, one of the world’s fastest submarines, as well as the
I-400
s, suggesting that a touch of not-invented-here syndrome colors the historical assessment.

The Japanese sub force ultimately failed for a number of reasons. Subservience to the surface fleet, midwar deployment as cargo carriers, and the IJN High Command’s almost total lack of adaptation when it came to changing circumstances all played a role. Failure to listen to the hard-won knowledge of Sixth Fleet sub captains combined with a penchant for back seat driving also didn’t help. The greatest failure however, was the IJN’s inability to fully utilize the submarine as a combat weapon, making Japanese sub crews (as one Sixth Fleet sub captain put it) “just so much human ammunition.”
⁶

All five members of the
I-401
’s boarding party received the Bronze Star with combat V (for valor), including Lt. John E. Balson. After the war, Balson remained in the navy, became captain of another Balao-class sub, and retired as commander in 1961. He enjoyed a career at Electric Boat in Groton, Connecticut, as a quality control officer inspecting newly constructed submarines. As of this writing, he is retired and lives in Florida with his wife.

Capt. Stephen Lobdell Johnson received the Legion of Merit with combat V, “for exceptionally meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding services.” His citation states that “as Commanding Officer of the USS
Segundo
[he] contact[ed the] Japanese submarine
I-401
[and] accepted the hostile ship’s formal surrender and brought it safe to port.”
⁷

Clearly, Johnson’s firm hand and quick thinking saved both
the
Segundo
and the
I-401
. Lt. (jg) Victor Horgan and Lt. (jg) Rod Johnson weren’t alone in sharing this conviction—the crew did as well. Though Johnson’s naval career would include the occasional stumble, no one could deny he’d earned the Legion of Merit.

Stephen Johnson captained the
Segundo
until February 1946, when he was replaced by Cdr. H. M. Lytle. Two years later he was assigned command of the USS
Bergall
(SS 320), where he earned his second nickname, “Screaming” Steve Johnson, for surfacing under a tuna boat in 1949. Contrary to regulations, the tuna boat had been operating in a restricted area near Barber’s Point. Ironically, it was the same area where the
I-401
had been sunk by the U.S. Navy two years earlier. The tuna boat was drifting with its engines turned off, which might have been why the
Bergall
failed to pick her up on sonar. While Johnson was surfacing his sub, he called “Up scope!” immediately followed by “Holy shit!” and an emergency dive order.
⁸

The tuna boat sheared off the
Bergall
’s periscope, causing water to pour into the conning tower. Fortunately, the sub’s pumps took care of the flooding and no real damage was done.
⁹
It was the kind of mistake that either costs a sub captain his command, leads to court martial, or both. But it didn’t hurt Johnson’s career any. Having an admiral in the family must have helped.

The self-admitted nonstudent later went on to earn a master’s degree in international relations from American University and was awarded France’s National Order of Merit for his service as naval attaché at the U.S. embassy in Paris. Johnson retired from the navy in 1969 and died in Virginia Beach, Virginia, in April 2000.

Cdr. J. D. Fulp’s distinguished naval career lasted a total of 30 years. His final posting was as base commander of the U.S. naval station on Kodiak Island in the Gulf of Alaska. When a tsunami driven by a 9.2 earthquake destroyed Kodiak City in March 1964, Fulp was instrumental in aiding its recovery. After retiring from the navy, he took a job in the private sector and died of a sudden heart attack in 1979.

Lt. Victor Horgan and Lt. Rod Johnson, childhood pals from
Portland, Oregon, went their separate ways after the war but kept in touch. Horgan had a successful career as an executive in the fish canning industry. He eventually sold his company but continued traveling the world, returning to Japan, which he’d first visited aboard the
Segundo
. He died in Seattle, where he lived with his second wife, Mary Lee, shortly before this book was completed.

QM3c Carlo Carlucci returned to his former construction job after being honorably discharged. He married and raised a family and is currently living in New Jersey. Carlucci won the Bronze Star for his time aboard the
I-401
. Sixty-four years later he proudly notes, “I didn’t get it for washing dishes.”
¹⁰
Surprisingly, the
Segundo
’s prize crew received their Bronze Stars through the mail rather than in a formal ceremony,
¹¹
which seems understated considering what they accomplished.

As for the
Segundo
herself, she returned to Pearl Harbor after Japan’s surrender. Two of her crew managed to get arrested for taking a post office motorcycle for a joyride during their stay.
¹²
The sub sailed for Seattle shortly afterward and then took a victory cruise down the west coast.

The
Segundo
received four battle stars for her World War II service and was eventually assigned to SubRon 3 in San Diego. She was modernized in 1951 in the San Francisco Naval Shipyard, where she was equipped with a snorkel—which Ariizumi would have appreciated. She served numerous tours in the Far East and saw action during the Korean War. Finally, after 26 years of duty, the
Segundo
was found “unfit for naval service” and sunk during target practice on August 8, 1970.
¹³

Having spent 1,380 days fighting in the Pacific,
¹⁴
the
I-401
’s captain, Lt. Cdr. Nobukiyo Nambu, struggled to make a living after the war. Trained to serve a navy that no longer existed, Nambu’s life became so grim he couldn’t feed his growing family. At one
point, he even took in boarders to make ends meet, yet still insisted on bringing former naval officers home for dinner, much to his wife’s annoyance.
¹⁵

Nambu continued to be questioned by occupation authorities about his former squadron commander but was never charged with any crime.
¹⁶
When the predecessor to today’s Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force (JMSDF) was reconstituted in 1952, Nambu joined up. He moved from Kure to Maizuru, close to where the
I-401
had undergone her final training, and eventually became superintendent of the JMSDF Submarine School; he retired as a rear admiral in 1965.
¹⁷
Like Yamamoto, Nambu enjoyed writing poetry and in 1963 was awarded a prize for his efforts by Emperor Hirohito.
¹⁸
As of this writing, he lives in an assisted living facility outside Tokyo. Even at age 97, the captain of the
Sen-toku
subs’ flagship remains unstooped with a sharp mind and crisp salute, though his hearing isn’t what it used to be.