Solitary Vigilance

The hatch door to the torpedo room opened suddenly with a resounding clang. A brilliant shaft of light blinded me and I blinked rapidly, desperately willing for my eyes to adjust from the darkness that had surrounded me for so long. I recognized the outline of a Japanese Lieutenant, walking hurriedly through the door towards me. His uniform was crisp, clean and easily recognizable. He stopped directly in front of me, knelt down, and silently began to unlock my handcuffs. After the cuffs fell away, he turned his attention to the locks and chains on my ankles. For a month, those cold steel bonds had held me prisoner in this rear compartment of a Japanese submarine. I heaved a shaky sigh of relief now that the bonds were off. The stern face of the Lieutenant told me he was especially upset as he impatiently motioned for me to stand. I had lain in this awkward position for weeks, so it was very difficult for me to even move, let alone stand. Nevertheless, I gathered my legs beneath me and prepared to defend myself from an expected execution. When I rose, the Lieutenant placed his hand on his pistol, but he did not remove it from its leather holster. Instead, he gave me a belligerent shove toward the door, where another Japanese sailor awaited us. I stepped through the narrow hatch with an initial feeling of relief, but I remained on guard as we proceeded down the small corridor.

I was astonished when I saw ten or more Japanese sailors lined up at attention on the left side of the narrow passageway. All of the enemy sailors were looking at me. I could see their hate for me in their eyes and in their body stance. As I walked forward, with the Lieutenant directly behind me, several of the sailors cursed at me in Japanese and spat on my face.

We paused near the sub’s conning tower for a short moment as the Lieutenant and the sub’s Captain conferred in a seemingly calm but debating tone. The Japanese crew was not aware of my training in Japanese linguistics and that I understood their conversations throughout my entire internment. As a result, I was able to read the sub’s depth gauges and clearly understand the discussion between the Lieutenant and the Captain. The two Jap officers concluded their brief conversation, bowed to each other, with neither man looking in my direction. The Captain made it clear he wanted me released but the Lieutenant was clearly against it. My fate was in debate, I did not know what my outcome would be. I could sense the sub rising rapidly. We would soon be breaking the surface of the water and exiting the sub. My mind raced, my heart began to beat even faster.

After a few minutes passed, a Japanese sailor proceeded up the conning tower ladder to open the outer hatch. I watched him intently as he turned the dial and slowly opened it. A sudden rush of cool air met my face, a stark contrast to the humidity I had endured during my time in the sub. Saltwater dripped in, splashing all over me. Bright rays of sunshine lit up the interior of the sub, and I squinted, looking up at a brilliant blue sky. The Captain pushed me from behind and briskly motioned for me to proceed up the ladder after the Japanese Lieutenant. Even though the Captain had ordered me released, I remained on guard to defend myself, in the event they had any last minute ideas of shooting me and throwing me overboard.

During the last month, as a prisoner of the Japanese, I had heard various conversations that revealed to me that the United States had unleashed two atomic weapons over the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. My capture by the Japanese near Nagasaki linked me to those events. I exited the sub and took a deep breath of fresh air. My eyes continued to adjust, temporarily blinded by the sunlight. The Captain exited behind me and motioned me to the rear of the sub. I started toward the rear, still expecting the worst to happen. I knew I could take out both Jap officers if it came to that. This red-blooded American was not going to die without taking them with me.