Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 7

  “Of course, if all this meets with your approval.”

  Reardon continues to silently stare at him. After what seems to Pastwa to be an hour, but in actuality is closer to thirty seconds, he breaks his silence.

  “Yes, sounds like a sensible plan.” Reardon leans forward in his chair. “Listen, Chris, there have already been calls from some local reporters who heard about the discovery of a skeleton that might date back to WWII. One of those queries came from your old girlfriend Lani Gale. She’s pretty clever you know, so be certain there are no leaks and warn Clarke to be on the alert.”

  Pastwa winces at the mention of her name and the memory of their rather noisy breakup a couple years earlier.

  “I don’t want any leaks on this Commander, understand me? I do not want to read about this in a newspaper without first hearing from you.” Reardon points his right index finger directly at Pastwa.

  “This matter stays right here, with the Navy, until all of the facts are complete. I want no leaks, none! And tie up these God-damned loose ends. I hate loose ends and what you’ve presented me with is a tanker full of them!” His voice grows louder the longer he speaks. Pastwa, for his part, feels an urgency building within him to get on with the investigation. He knows, however, Reardon must run his course.

  He takes a long, deep drink of water and slowly calms down.

  “Unless you have any questions you can get on with it.” He looks at Pastwa, who quickly stands and responds: “No Sir, no questions.”

  Reardon watches him leave and turns to gaze through the window. He finds the tranquil waters of Pearl Harbor have no calming effect on his severely twitching right eye. “Damn this twitch,” he says out loud, though nobody’s within earshot.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A SUBMARINER’S LOGBOOK

  Yamura and Pastwa are each reading one of her translations of the ship’s log. Clarke is making himself busy by refilling their coffee cups for the fourth time, though it is only nine in the morning. He briefly considers whether he should interrupt them and ask if they would like some donuts, but thinks the better of it and decides to keep a low profile. Experience tells him when Pastwa is deep into a case it’s best to leave him alone as much as possible. Pastwa slowly lays what will be Reardon’s copy onto his desk and sits back, tilting his chair almost to the tipping point. Yamura sets copy number two on her lap while taking a sip of coffee.

  “This is really hard to swallow Karen. Have you received results from the dating tests on the log, or on anything?”

  Yamura takes another sip before she responds.

  “Preliminarily, the man we believe is Kamita has been dead a good seventy years, though the complete array of tests are not in. I can tell you the DNA of items in the locket are a match for Kamita. I can also tell you the materials used in the log, even the inks, match up with what was commonly available in Japan during the 1941 time period. There is some variation in the quality of the inks and that may have been due to material shortages that were starting to become common in Japan as the result of our embargo. It was not just gasoline they were running low on.”

  Yamura finishes her coffee before continuing.

  “The stopwatch is obviously Imperial Japanese Navy issue. The watches were of a brand common in Japan back then and favored by members of the navy. If this is a hoax, it was conceived a very long time ago. The extent of corrosion and rust on the metal box is consistent with having been buried for seventy-odd years. You can’t easily fake corrosion of this extent, but I‘m not saying it can’t be done. As for the clothing, Stephanie has not concluded much from that other than to say they are likely two separate uniforms. One of them has evidence of blood on it so it may have been Kamita’s.”

  Yamura pauses to let Pastwa take it all in before continuing.

  “Even the oil cloth appears bona-fide. Frankly, Chris, as far as I can determine everything appears to be legit. Let me add, again, until the final test results are complete there is always the outside chance we could be wrong. And by ‘outside chance,’ I mean we’re talking just about out of the ballpark type odds.”

  Pastwa swivels around and gazes towards the harbor. Both of them sit silently for about a minute before Pastwa swivels back to face her.

  “Reardon’s expecting me over at the Officer’s Club for lunch, but I think I’ll call and suggest he and I meet in his office instead because when he hears what I have to report, he’s not going to be pleased.” Pastwa pauses as he thinks about his pending meeting with Reardon.

  “Reardon’s likely to go absolutely over the top when he reads Yokoyama’s description of torpedoing the Oklahoma. And when he learns how they slipped ashore to meld into the Japanese/Hawaiian population,” he pauses and lets out a long sigh before continuing.

  “I think his eyes might just burst out of his head. He really has a hard-on for anything regarding the Pearl Harbor attack.”

  Pastwa has a pained expression on his face while Yamura is thankful she’s not the one breaking the news to Reardon.

  “Shit! Reardon’s going to just shit! All I can do is hope I’m not sitting underneath him when he does!” Pastwa exclaims.

  Yamura shakes her head, feeling sorry for him and doubly relieved reporting to Reardon is not her job.

  “I don’t envy you Chris, but I don’t understand Reardon’s keen interest in the Pearl Harbor attack after all these years. He wasn’t even alive back then.”

  Yamura smiles as she rises to leave. “Why don’t you stop over at my place later for a drink? I’ll be up pretty late and can put together some sushi. We can enjoy some wine, rehash things and by then I’ll likely have more test results back. Besides, it’s been a tough week already and we need a little down time.”

  Pastwa considers her invitation, smiles and replies: “I’ll most definitely see you later, Karen. You can count on it.”

  Yamura slowly walks to the door, which appears to open on its own. She smiles as she discovers Clarke’s about to bring in a tray with a pot of coffee and several donuts.

  “Oh, Ma’am, sorry, I was just about to knock.”

  Yamura smiles. “Thanks Clarke. I’m fairly certain the Commander could use a little sugar and caffeine rush before he sees the Admiral.” She slips around Clarke and disappears through the doorway as he continues into Pastwa’s office.

  “Sir, how about some fresh Kauai coffee and a couple of donuts?” Pastwa smiles and thinks to himself Clarke is right this time.

  “You must’ve read my mind as it’s definitely time for a break. Please leave everything on my desk then call over to Admiral Reardon’s office and ask if I can see him. Let him know I have the document we discussed yesterday.”

  “Yes Sir, consider it taken care of. Enjoy the donuts.” Clarke quickly returns to his desk. He glances at the few donuts remaining under the glass cake holder he keeps on top of one of his file cabinets and says to himself: “Donut now, or donut after I call the Admiral?” Staring at the donuts, he decides he better phone the Admiral first.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A LONG FUSE BURNING

  Pastwa’s been nervously sitting across from Reardon for nearly thirty minutes while he reviews the translated logbook. From time to time he pauses, glances in the direction of the harbor and frowns. Pastwa has been here before and he fears Reardon’s painfully long fuse may be burning down.

  Finally, after to what Pastwa seems to be a short lifetime, Reardon lightly tosses the translated logbook onto the desk. He takes a slow drink of water before turning his attention to Pastwa.

  “Commander, this is easily the most astonishing thing I‘ve ever read.” Reardon pauses for effect, as is his habit.

  “You say Lieutenant Yamura tentatively dates this log to be accurate for the December, 1941, time period?”

  Pastwa is quick to respond.

  “Yes Sir. She and Lieutenant Ferguson haven’t completed all the dating tests yet. It’s too soon for some of the more complicated testing, but it’s their joint opinion that
everything is looking pretty darned authentic. Let me add there’s still a remote possibility this is an enormously elaborate hoax. However, that particular likelihood appears to be a more than a long shot and I believe we must move forward on the assumption this is definitely not bogus. If later we find out otherwise, then no real harm done.”

  Reardon stands and walks over to one of the shelves on the wall where he picks up a model of a WII Japanese submarine, sets it onto the middle of his desk then sits on the edge of his chair.

  “See this model?” He points with his right index finger. “This is the I-16 and she’s set up the way it was configured when she delivered her cargo outside Pearl that day. Her cargo, of course, was the midget submarine skippered by our new friend, Lieutenant Yokoyama.”

  Reardon takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, almost as if a sigh.

  “Listen to me carefully Chris. There are a lot of folks out there who’ve made a pretty good case that Lieutenant Yokoyama was clever enough to navigate into Pearl in the dark and under the anti-torpedo nets we had serving double duty as anti-sub nets. They make a solid case to the effect he fired two torpedoes. One torpedo likely bounced off the West Virginia while the second torpedo struck and no doubt caused the capsizing of the Oklahoma, precisely as described in this logbook.” Reardon pounds his fist onto the translated log, which significantly raises Pastwa’s anxiety level.

  Before continuing, he takes a large gulp of water.

  “There’s been some solid evidence to collaborate that story and there’s been much ado made of a photo many people claim depicts a midget sub shortly after releasing two torpedoes. One torpedo’s heading at the West Virginia and one is tracking directly at the Oklahoma, exactly as Yokoyama describes.

  A lot of folks want to disbelieve that photo, but tell me, what’s the best way to spot a submarine in shallow water? From an airplane of course! That photo is focused on the midget submarine and not on battleship row. That damn Jap photographer snapped the photo for the sole reason he had spotted the sub. Too bad his notes, if he made any, were lost at Midway where many of the Pearl Harbor pilots bought their lunch when we sunk four of their big flat tops.” Reardon pauses to allow time for Pastwa to consider the facts.

  “Realistically, the reason for taking the photo had to be because the pilot spotted one of their midget subs. Sometimes the obvious is too painful for historians to admit, but like it or not, this photo serves as excellent evidence of our midget man’s success. I could go on about that photo and efforts to disprove the existence of the submarine, but now it’s all beside the point.” He picks up the I-16 model and looks it over a few moments before carefully placing it back on the desk.

  “The Oklahoma would never have rolled over, but for an intervening act. You know your history so you know all our battlewagons had their watertight doors open that day as the result of weekend inspections. She did have a bit of a list to port and, like the West Virginia and California, she was settling to the bottom. But when that ‘Long Lance’ torpedo struck her, it ripped a hole about 38 feet wide right through her armored torpedo belt and below the water line. With that much water rushing in, representing scores of tons of weight, there was no chance to counter-flood and over she went.” He shakes his head as he contemplates the crewmen of the Oklahoma who were trapped below decks when she rolled over.

  “To top it off, Admiral Nimitz himself reported the discovery of an unexploded ‘Long Lance’ torpedo near the West Virginia. We just chose the easy route which was to stuff our heads up our collective butts and pretend no submarines could have penetrated Pearl, let alone successfully launch any torpedoes. Really, that they penetrated should not have been a complete surprise. The prior year a German U-boat slipped into the British fleet’s main base at Scapa Flow and sunk one of their battlewagons. There was precedent, just as there was precedence for an aerial torpedo attack at Pearl. It was a matter that we fooled ourselves into believing no submarine could penetrate the harbor.”

  Reardon abruptly pushes his chair away from the desk.

  “This is like another kick in the gut only this time it’s more than seventy years after the fact!”

  Reardon picks up his glass and nervously swishes the water around while Pastwa remains quiet, his own mind racing ahead as he plans a course of action. At this point Pastwa is also growing anxious to get back to work, but Reardon’s not finished and Pastwa knows it.

  “Frankly, this logbook should be no big shock. That two of those midget submariners made it into the population should also be no dramatic revelation. Hell, there are two other midget submariners who could have made it ashore.”

  “Damned, for all I know this could even be nothing more than a truly elaborate hoax put together many years ago by some fanatics trying to prove the Japanese midget subs were successful. The burial site is not exactly in an out-of-the-way location and if someone wanted to pull off a hoax they would have chosen a place that would likely be developed in some manner at some future point in time. A site exactly like this one.”

  Reardon takes a few moments to consider the situation. He takes another drink of water, finding little solace in the knowledge that later this evening he’ll be replacing the water with some Johnny Walker Blue and a prodigious quantity of ice.

  “No, Commander, I know this is just wishful thinking on my part. We must proceed on the basis the log is the real McCoy. The hoax theory is a long shot and should be tabled just as you said. So here are your orders.”

  Pastwa immediately tenses up and appears as if he’s standing at attention while still sitting.

  “First, make absolutely certain this entire business remains Top Secret. This is a Navy matter, plain and simple and I want to keep it that way for at least the near term.”

  “I’d like you to inform Lieutenants Yamura and Ferguson in no uncertain terms they are to guard their work on this project as if their next promotion and every promotion following depend on it.”

  “Second, I want you to do everything possible to find out what became of Lieutenant Commander Yokoyama.”

  Reardon notices a puzzled look on Pastwa’s face at the mention of ‘Lieutenant Commander.’

  “Oh, I see you aren’t aware the Imperial Japanese Navy made this man, and eight other midget submariners, not just Demi-Gods, but gave them all double promotions in rank for good measure. Likely the Japanese High Command assumed they would never need to make good on the pay raises is my guess. If Yokoyama survived they owe him a submarine load of back pay!” Reardon laughs at his own joke, before again growing serious.

  “Hell, Commander, as I recall there were Buddhist monks in Japan who raised money for the war effort by manufacturing prayer coins with the likeness of Yokoyama on them. They really promoted the guy, pretty much the way we promoted our own heroes during the war. What the hell, we captured one of the midget subs the next day and sent it across the country on a war bond sale. I’m pretty sure it’s still on display over in Fredericksburg, Texas. Back in ’42 we cut holes in the sides so that the crowds could peek in and have a look-see. So you really can’t blame the Japanese for trying to capitalize on Yokohama as much as possible.” Reardon pauses to allow Pastwa a few moments respite.

  “Here is something else you likely didn’t know. A few years back one of the Jap midget subs was found just offshore in only about sixty or so feet of water. It was not the I-16-tou either and the hatch was open. Those hatches opened up, not down, and there was nobody home inside, though we did discover they left their uniforms behind which lends credence to the possibility they swam ashore.” Reardon again pauses, this time more to get his breath than for effect.

  “So it should come as no surprise that some pretty well respected people here on Oahu believe those two midget submariners popped the cork on their sub, swam ashore and disappeared into the population. Back then the Japanese presence here was in the neighborhood of one third of the total island population. Many of them didn’t even speak English or spoke very poor English
.”

  “Speaking of English, if any of the midget submariners chosen for the Pearl Harbor mission didn’t already speak it, they were given a crash course. Some of them knew English better than a lot of the Japanese population here. It was always part of the Japanese battle plan that, if necessary, the crews would scuttle their little subs and swim ashore to seek out friendly Japanese. Each crew was provided a detailed map of Oahu and a list of safe houses. In fact, my bet is the house where you found the remains was associated in some way with the one of those lists.”

  “Bear in mind, Yokoyama, as it happens, was the most likely candidate to have been able to pull off a successful harbor defense penetration and attack. He came from a military background, was multi linguistic and was considered by his superior officers to be the cream of the men chosen for the mission. He was also considered to be charismatic, a trait that likely served him well when he came ashore here. One of his commanding officers once said that when Yokoyama smiled, he looked as if he were an angelic child. That, Commander, is a trait which would come in handy in a big way if he found himself needing to meld into an unfriendly environment.”

  “I see you noticed I used the word “chosen” earlier. That’s right, those Japanese midget submariners were hand-picked by the Imperial Japanese Navy. Everyone knew the mission was highly dangerous, but it was not the intention of the Japanese Navy that they be suicidal. In fact, my recollection is Admiral Yamamoto himself sought assurances there were reasonable precautions taken to make survival a distinct possibility. And think of the importance a debriefing of the crews afterwards would have been. It would have provided invaluable information the Japanese could have used for future attacks.”

  “Considering Yokoyama, we are dealing with an individual who was under orders to return to the fleet to report on his efforts and who had the requisite background and resolve to do just that. So whatever you do, don’t discount this man in any way. Assume he was a natural survivor and fully capable of pulling this off!”