The Twilight Warriors Part 12

DUCKS IN A GALLERY DUCKS IN A GALLERY EAST CHINA SEA

APRIL 7, 1945

Leading the last division of Intrepid Intrepid's Corsairs, Lt. (jg) Wes Hays was having trouble keeping Rawie's flight in sight. They had launched from the carrier at 1045, two and a half hours before, flying at 1,500 feet beneath a solid overcast. Now the cloud cover was getting worse. Seeking better visibility, Rawie had led the formation up through the layers in the clouds. It was a game of blindman's bluff, each division leader trying to keep the preceding division in sight as they groped through the murk.

Somewhere between cloud layers, Hays lost sight of Rawie. In fact, he'd lost sight of everyone. Hays and his three wingmen-Hollister, Carlisi, and Erickson-were on their own.

Wes Hays's military career was typical of the wartime Navy. From newly winged naval aviator in February 1943, he'd gone through training as a photo reconnaissance pilot, then put in a tour instructing in Corsairs at Green Cove Springs, where Will Rawie handpicked him for his newly formed Grim Reaper squadron. Hays came from the western outback of Texas, a one-stop town called Novice, where his wife and baby son were living.

Hays was listening to the babble on the radio, and it didn't give him a good feeling. The weather was lousy and getting lousier. Everyone was having trouble finding the j.a.p task force, including Will Rawie. The lead Avenger in Rawie's group had gotten a radar contact from 30 miles out. The only problem was, it wasn't a j.a.p s.h.i.+p. It was a reef in the East China Sea.

Now the strike group was dispersed, some low over the water and others flying between the cloud layers, dodging rain squalls, using only their eyeb.a.l.l.s to locate an enemy fleet. Fuel was becoming critical. They had only minutes left before they'd have to turn back to the s.h.i.+p.

According to the plotting board on Hays's lap, they had had to be near where the j.a.panese force was last reported. A dark layer of cloud enveloped the whole area. Hays signaled his flight to come together so they wouldn't lose sight of each other, then he took them down through the clouds until they had only one broken deck between them and the water. to be near where the j.a.panese force was last reported. A dark layer of cloud enveloped the whole area. Hays signaled his flight to come together so they wouldn't lose sight of each other, then he took them down through the clouds until they had only one broken deck between them and the water.

Hays was peering through the gloom, looking for something-anything-that resembled a j.a.panese s.h.i.+p, when he spotted the silhouette of an airplane off his left wing. Friend or foe? While he was still wondering, an anonymous voice crackled over the radio: "Corsairs, you're close. Stand by for my mark."

It was a plane from one of the other s.h.i.+ps, he realized, probably Yorktown Yorktown. Whoever the guy was, he knew the location of the enemy fleet. Hays snapped off a quick order to his wingmen: "Arm everything. Use your .50s." Besides dropping the 1,000-pounders, they'd be ready to strafe any target in sight.

Hays continued on his heading, waiting for the call. A minute later he heard, "Mark!" He shoved the Corsair's nose down through the cloud deck, praying that they were over water and not an island with a mountain on it. His wingmen stayed with him, descending through the thick cloud.

Hays peered through his winds.h.i.+eld, straining to see something, anything. They were in a blind dive toward the ocean.

Abruptly they popped through the bottom of the cloud deck. To Hays's astonishment, directly ahead of his nose sprawled a great gray object. It was a j.a.panese cruiser, and the pipper of his gun sight, as if positioned by some mysterious power, was superimposed on the sweet spot-precisely between the cruiser's center stacks and fantail.

And then he noticed something else. Black, oily puffs were erupting like mushrooms around him. Then he felt the turbulence. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were shooting at him.

Will Rawie, the strike leader, was approaching minimum fuel. He was about to turn back when he spotted a wake on the whitecapped surface below. When he dropped down to follow it, he saw the flash of gunfire. Then came more flashes, like twinkling lights in a fog.

Ahead Rawie made out the dark silhouettes of s.h.i.+ps-three smaller vessels and one very large one that had the profile of a battles.h.i.+p. A sporadic barrage of gunfire was coming from the big s.h.i.+p. Rawie saw that it was slightly down at the stern, listing to starboard. It had to be the Yamato Yamato.

As strike leader, Rawie was supposed to coordinate the attacks of his warplanes. Now it seemed like a joke. His strike group was scattered, all dodging and weaving to avoid the antiaircraft fire, trying to get into position to attack. The only ones he could see besides his own flight of four Corsairs were the Torp.e.c.k.e.rs-the Avenger torpedo planes. He called for them to swing to the left, to set up for an attack from the north. Everybody else should take any target he could find.

Through the clouds Rawie spotted what looked like a cruiser. As he led his flight in a dive through a hole in the clouds, he nearly collided with a flight of h.e.l.ldiver dive-bombers. They were all plunging through the same hole. Rawie pulled up in a tight circle, his wingmen in trail, then rolled back in for another try at the cruiser.

This time Rawie held his dive until the target filled his gun sight. He jabbed the release b.u.t.ton, feeling the Corsair shed its thousand-pound load, and pulled out of the dive.

Grunting against the force of the pull out, Rawie peered back over his shoulder. Explosions were erupting from below the cruiser's decks. It looked like the cruiser was about to break up.

From his station on Yamato Yamato's top deck, Lt. Naoyos.h.i.+ Is.h.i.+da saw how wrong they had been about the weather. They had thought that the rain squalls and low clouds would hide them. Instead, it was providing cover for the American warplanes. Yamato Yamato's gunners were finding it almost impossible to track the blurred shapes as they came plummeting down from the cloud deck.

Despite the hatred Is.h.i.+da had for the Americans, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of admiration. Unquestionably, they were brave. They were diving so low, firing their guns until the last moment, that Is.h.i.+da could see their faces in the c.o.c.kpits.

Watching the battle go against them, Is.h.i.+da wrestled with his emotions. He hadn't expected that they would win this fight, but he also hadn't thought the Yamato Yamato could be so quickly damaged. Is.h.i.+da was a product of the Meiji generation, the older cla.s.s of professional naval officers imbued with an unquestioning willingness to die in battle. could be so quickly damaged. Is.h.i.+da was a product of the Meiji generation, the older cla.s.s of professional naval officers imbued with an unquestioning willingness to die in battle.

Despite his bus.h.i.+do bus.h.i.+do feelings, Is.h.i.+da couldn't push from his mind the image of his wife and infant son. Without him, they would be alone to face an uncertain future. It was not the way a warrior was supposed to think in the midst of battle. feelings, Is.h.i.+da couldn't push from his mind the image of his wife and infant son. Without him, they would be alone to face an uncertain future. It was not the way a warrior was supposed to think in the midst of battle.

Things were happening too fast for Erickson. He'd barely had time to arm his bomb and guns. Now he was desperately trying to stay with Hays, who was diving on a cruiser beneath his nose. Erickson was hugging Hays's left wing while the second section-Hollister and Carlisi-hung on to Hays's right wing. Wherever Hays was going, they were going with him.

Erickson picked out the gray shape of the target. And he saw something else, a few hundred yards beyond the cruiser they were attacking-an even bigger s.h.i.+p, probably the Yamato Yamato. Every gun on every wars.h.i.+p seemed to be firing at him. It didn't seem possible that they could all miss.

There was no time to think about it. With the airspeed building up, the target filling his gun sight, Erickson punched the release b.u.t.ton. He felt the hard lurch of the half-ton bomb departing his airplane, and he saw the bombs dropping away from the other Corsairs.

Four thousand pounds of high explosives were plunging down on the enemy s.h.i.+p. Still in their dives, all four Corsairs opened fire with their .50-caliber machine guns. Erickson could see crewmen scurrying on the deck, their bodies being riddled by the hail of machine gun fire.

Pulling out of the dive, the Corsairs jinked and weaved, desperately trying to avoid the storm of fire coming at them. Erickson glimpsed the ma.s.sive bow of Yamato Yamato swelling in front of him. The battles.h.i.+p seemed to be moving slowly, less than 10 knots, in a left turn. The s.h.i.+ps of her screen were in a protective circle around her. swelling in front of him. The battles.h.i.+p seemed to be moving slowly, less than 10 knots, in a left turn. The s.h.i.+ps of her screen were in a protective circle around her.

As he flashed past the battles.h.i.+p, Erickson saw what looked like bra.s.s wires extending upward from the s.h.i.+p. It took him a moment to realize what they were: tracers. For every tracer, there were five or more invisible bullets coming at him. More than 150 j.a.panese guns were shooting at him.

Black flak bursts were erupting on either side and directly ahead. Erickson felt the Corsair being slammed by the concussions. He could smell the sickly odor of the explosives. There seemed to be no chance he could avoid being hit.

An unwanted thought inserted itself in his mind. Aboard Intrepid Intrepid he had watched the task force antiaircraft guns knocking kamikazes out of the sky like ducks in a gallery. Now the roles were reversed. He was one of the ducks. he had watched the task force antiaircraft guns knocking kamikazes out of the sky like ducks in a gallery. Now the roles were reversed. He was one of the ducks.

Something caught Mitsuru Yos.h.i.+da's eye as he stood on the bridge. Something red. One of Yamato Yamato's screening destroyers on the port outer edge of the formation, Hamakaze Hamakaze, had just showed her crimson-painted belly. In the next moment her stern seemed to levitate straight out of the water.

Yos.h.i.+da stared at the stricken destroyer. As in slow motion, Hamakaze Hamakaze dropped back into the sea and rolled over. In less than half a minute the destroyer was gone, leaving in her place a sheet of white foam. dropped back into the sea and rolled over. In less than half a minute the destroyer was gone, leaving in her place a sheet of white foam.

It took Yos.h.i.+da's brain several seconds to process what he had just seen. A torpedo had struck Hamakaze's Hamakaze's stern, blowing away the rudder. At almost the same time, a string of bombs landed one after the other on her deck. The combined effect was like smas.h.i.+ng a beetle with a hammer. stern, blowing away the rudder. At almost the same time, a string of bombs landed one after the other on her deck. The combined effect was like smas.h.i.+ng a beetle with a hammer.

A few of Hamakaze's Hamakaze's crew had been blown into the sea before the shattered hulk sank. Now Yos.h.i.+da could see their heads bobbing in the bubbling foam where the destroyer had been. No one was stopping to pick them up. crew had been blown into the sea before the shattered hulk sank. Now Yos.h.i.+da could see their heads bobbing in the bubbling foam where the destroyer had been. No one was stopping to pick them up.

A similar fate had already befallen the unlucky similar fate had already befallen the unlucky Asas.h.i.+mo Asas.h.i.+mo. Just as Admiral Ito had feared, the straggling destroyer was an easy target. After falling behind the task force when it turned south, Asas.h.i.+mo Asas.h.i.+mo was bringing up the rear. She was 5 miles behind the main force when the strike group from the carrier was bringing up the rear. She was 5 miles behind the main force when the strike group from the carrier San Jacinto San Jacinto found her. found her.

First went the fighters-six h.e.l.lcats and one older F4F Wildcat. All dropped 500-pound bombs, then came back to strafe with their machine guns. Asas.h.i.+mo Asas.h.i.+mo fought back, putting up a stream of defensive fire and causing damage to some of the fighters. After several pa.s.ses her deck was aflame and her hull was ruptured from bomb near misses. An ominous black oil slick surrounded the destroyer as she went nearly dead in the water. fought back, putting up a stream of defensive fire and causing damage to some of the fighters. After several pa.s.ses her deck was aflame and her hull was ruptured from bomb near misses. An ominous black oil slick surrounded the destroyer as she went nearly dead in the water.

Eight Avenger torpedo bombers swept in to finish the kill. As the torpedoes. .h.i.t the water and headed in a perfect spread for the destroyer, her captain, Lt. Cmdr. Yos.h.i.+ro Sugihara, turned the slow-moving destroyer to starboard, trying to parallel the wakes of the torpedoes. He dodged the first two, and several others swept by the stern.

Then a torpedo took her amids.h.i.+ps, directly below the bridge. Seconds later, another exploded into the engine room.

It was the end of Asas.h.i.+mo Asas.h.i.+mo. Her bow pitched upward, and she slid stern first into the sea. Another explosion under the surface blew the bow back above water, and it disintegrated. When the pieces had finished falling back onto the sea, nothing was left but an oil slick. None of Asas.h.i.+mo Asas.h.i.+mo's 326 crewmen survived the attack.

While Will Rawie was darting in and out of clouds, trying to pull his strike group together, the leader of Yorktown Yorktown's forty-three-plane strike group, Lt. Cmdr. Herb Houck, had a better view of the action. Houck was a thirty-year-old Minnesotan who had joined the Navy in 1936. He had already shot down six j.a.panese airplanes and won two Navy Crosses. That day he would add another.

Technically, Houck shouldn't have been there. The engine in his F6F-5 h.e.l.lcat had been cutting out during the long flight from Yorktown Yorktown because of an air leak in the line from the fighter's auxiliary belly tank. Unwilling to turn back, Houck kept nursing the engine, switching the fuel feed from tank to tank, running his fuel boost pump to keep gas flowing to the big radial engine. He'd made it, finally managing to suck most of the fuel from the troublesome belly tank. because of an air leak in the line from the fighter's auxiliary belly tank. Unwilling to turn back, Houck kept nursing the engine, switching the fuel feed from tank to tank, running his fuel boost pump to keep gas flowing to the big radial engine. He'd made it, finally managing to suck most of the fuel from the troublesome belly tank.

Now Houck was over the task group at 1,000 feet. His twenty h.e.l.lcat fighters each carried a single 500-pound bomb, which he knew would make hardly a dent in Yamato Yamato's thick armor. He ordered the h.e.l.lcats to go in ahead of the torpedo planes, strafing with their six .50-calibers to deflect the j.a.panese guns from the vulnerable torpedo planes.

Houck still had his own 500-pound bomb, and he was saving it for the right target. He spotted it while the Torp.e.c.k.e.rs were still setting up their attack on Yamato Yamato. Ahead, trailing smoke but still very much alive, was a destroyer, the Isokaze Isokaze. The j.a.panese tin can had just blown a Yorktown Yorktown h.e.l.ldiver out of the sky, killing Lt. Harry Worley and his gunner, Earl Ward. h.e.l.ldiver out of the sky, killing Lt. Harry Worley and his gunner, Earl Ward.

Houck went after the destroyer. Placing the pipper of his gun sight on the midsection of the destroyer, he released the 500-pounder. As he pulled out of his dive, he saw over his shoulder a pillar of flame leaping from the destroyer's mid-deck. Within minutes she was sinking.

Houck wasn't finished. He could see Isokaze Isokaze's survivors flailing in the oil-slickened water. He dove again, this time blazing away with his .50-calibers. The other h.e.l.lcat pilots, bombs now expended, followed him, strafing the bobbing heads in the water.

It was the compa.s.sionless rationale of the Pacific war, and it was applied by both sides. The enemy deserved no mercy. The more you killed, the sooner the war would be over.

The h.e.l.lcats kept strafing, frothing the water with machine gun fire, until their ammunition was gone.

22

THERE SHE BLOWS THERE SHE BLOWS EAST CHINA SEA

3022N; 12804E

APRIL 7, 1945

Yamato was listing to port. The system of pumps and valves that flooded the stabilizing compartments and had corrected the earlier list was no longer working. The all-important aft water control center had taken a torpedo strike and a direct bomb hit. was listing to port. The system of pumps and valves that flooded the stabilizing compartments and had corrected the earlier list was no longer working. The all-important aft water control center had taken a torpedo strike and a direct bomb hit.

Watching the inclinometer go from 15 degrees to 20 degrees, Rear Admiral Ariga reached an agonizing decision. He would have to flood the starboard outer engine room. Flooding the s.p.a.ce would help correct the list, but it would reduce Yamato Yamato's available power. It would also mean certain death for the three hundred men in the starboard engine compartments.

In a choking voice, Ariga gave the order. The valves were opened. Seconds later the violent implosion of seawater snuffed out the life of every man in the flooded engineering rooms.

The desperate tactic worked, but only for a while. At 1410 Ariga felt another torpedo slam into Yamato Yamato's stern, jamming her big main rudder hard to port.

Yamato's death was now certain. The s.h.i.+p was uncontrollable. The list to port worsened quickly, rolling toward 35 degrees. With her port rail nearly submerged, the s.h.i.+p was locked in a counterclockwise turn. The lofty bridge tower was leaning so steeply over the water that the men in the uppermost decks had to cling to rails and stanchions for support.

Captain Nomura, the executive officer, clambered up the ladder to Ariga's command station. There was no chance of correcting Yamato Yamato's list, he told the captain. Ariga seemed to be detached from what was happening. He appeared not to notice that the s.h.i.+p's public address system had already been destroyed. He kept repeating, as if his crew could hear him, "Don't lose heart!"

Nomura shouted at him, "The s.h.i.+p is sinking!" Nomura wanted Ariga's permission to give the abandon-s.h.i.+p order. Ariga stared back at him, seeming not to comprehend. Most of Yamato Yamato's guns were silent now. There was only the isolated chatter of a few surviving machine guns.

Nomura kept shouting. Finally Ariga nodded his understanding. Yes, Nomura could give the abandon-s.h.i.+p order. And Nomura should join them, the captain added. Someone had to survive in order to tell the story.

There was no time to spare. Nomura sent messengers from the bridge to spread the word belowdecks: "Abandon s.h.i.+p!" Yamato Yamato was going fast. was going fast.

Still in his command chair on the sixth deck of the bridge tower, the commander in chief, Vice Adm. Seiichi Ito, received the same report. Yamato Yamato was doomed. Until now the admiral had remained stiff and silent, aloof from the blow-by-blow events of the battle. From the beginning he had been opposed to what he thought was a senseless sacrifice. Now it was coming to the very end he had predicted. was doomed. Until now the admiral had remained stiff and silent, aloof from the blow-by-blow events of the battle. From the beginning he had been opposed to what he thought was a senseless sacrifice. Now it was coming to the very end he had predicted.

Ito climbed out of his chair. For a moment he braced himself against the binocular stand, staring out ahead of the sinking s.h.i.+p. Then he issued his one and only direct command since the battle began. "Stop the operation," the admiral ordered. "Turn back after rescuing the men."

With that, Ito turned to salute the surviving members of his staff. Together they had endured nearly two hours of bombings, torpedoings, and relentless machine gun fire. Ito shook each man's hand, then descended the ladder to his sea cabin one deck below. It was the last anyone saw of Seiichi Ito.

On the top bridge deck at the captain's command station, a messenger was helping Ariga tie himself to the compa.s.s binnacle. Ariga intended to go with his s.h.i.+p, and he was taking no chances that his body would wash to the surface. He was having trouble because the linoleum deck was slippery with blood. As the s.h.i.+p shuddered from another internal blast, Ariga shouted that someone had to save the emperor's portrait.

The a.s.sistant gunnery officer, Lieutenant Hattori, carried out Ariga's order, after a fas.h.i.+on. Hattori made his way down to the wardroom, where the picture was mounted on the bulkhead. Instead of retrieving the portrait, he simply locked the door. At least the enemy would not recover it.

Yorktown air group commander Herb Houck was still on station, directing his strike group from his h.e.l.lcat fighter. He had already a.s.signed his twelve Avenger torpedo planes, led by Lt. Cmdr. Tom Stetson, to finish off the cruiser air group commander Herb Houck was still on station, directing his strike group from his h.e.l.lcat fighter. He had already a.s.signed his twelve Avenger torpedo planes, led by Lt. Cmdr. Tom Stetson, to finish off the cruiser Yahagi Yahagi.

Stetson had just gotten a good look at the Yamato Yamato. She appeared to be listing badly, showing her belly. He told Houck he wanted to split his group and go after the Yamato Yamato with six of his Avengers. with six of his Avengers.

Houck concurred, but he told Stetson to change the torpedo running depth from 10 feet to 20. The 10-foot depth had been preset to hit a cruiser's hull. Going to 20 feet would put the fish below Yamato Yamato's thicker armor plate and right into her exposed lower hull.

It was easier said than done. In the back of his Avenger, tail gunner Charles Fries had the job of resetting the depth setting on their Mark 13 torpedo. It meant that he had to crawl into the bomb bay, pull wires inside the torpedo, and turn the indicator with a wrench. If Fries got it wrong, the airstream coming through the bomb bay could actually arm the torpedo.

The Torp.e.c.k.e.rs took their time getting into position. One of the pilots, Lt. (jg) John Carter, was in the last section. He watched Stetson's first four Avengers go in low and fast, dropping their torpedoes in a spread on Yamato Yamato's beam. "As luck would have it," he recalled, "the big s.h.i.+p was turning to port, thereby exposing the full broadside expanse of her enormous hull to the converging torpedoes." Carter saw at least three of the torpedoes explode into Yamato Yamato's hull from amids.h.i.+ps to the bow. Two hit so close they looked like a single huge explosion.

The dreadnought was still fighting back. Her gunners were putting out a sporadic barrage of antiaircraft fire, frothing the water and hammering the Avengers with the concussion of the bursts. As Carter began his own run from aft of the battles.h.i.+p, he could see tracers arcing toward his Avenger. He launched his torpedo across Yamato Yamato's curving wake. Pulling away from the target, he tried to shrink into the metal frame of his seat. He could feel the ping and clatter of shrapnel hitting the Avenger's skin. He saw that his torpedo had run true, cutting inside Yamato Yamato's swerving turn and exploding into the battles.h.i.+p's port quarter.

Yamato's tower bridge was leaning at a precarious angle. Mitsuru Yos.h.i.+da couldn't help thinking about the irony of the situation. It was the Imperial j.a.panese Navy who had taught the world how to destroy surface wars.h.i.+ps with airpower. They had done it at Pearl Harbor, and two days later they repeated the lesson off Malaya by sinking the British battles.h.i.+p tower bridge was leaning at a precarious angle. Mitsuru Yos.h.i.+da couldn't help thinking about the irony of the situation. It was the Imperial j.a.panese Navy who had taught the world how to destroy surface wars.h.i.+ps with airpower. They had done it at Pearl Harbor, and two days later they repeated the lesson off Malaya by sinking the British battles.h.i.+p Prince of Wales Prince of Wales and the battle cruiser and the battle cruiser Repulse Repulse. The British commander, Admiral Sir Tom Phillips, had made the fatal mistake of taking his surface force into battle without air cover.

The j.a.panese had just made the same mistake.

Watching the American warplanes, Yos.h.i.+da wondered about the men in the c.o.c.kpits. They seemed undaunted by the wall of flak thrown up by the task force. Several had been hit, bursting into flame and cras.h.i.+ng into the sea.

But none were emulating the j.a.panese tokko tokko airmen. Not one American pilot had crashed his airplane into an enemy s.h.i.+p. To Yos.h.i.+da, this single fact more than anything else revealed the chasm between their cultures. airmen. Not one American pilot had crashed his airplane into an enemy s.h.i.+p. To Yos.h.i.+da, this single fact more than anything else revealed the chasm between their cultures.

The abandon-s.h.i.+p order was being yelled by messengers throughout the s.h.i.+p. It was time for Yos.h.i.+da to leave the bridge. Yamato Yamato's list was now 80 degrees. The s.h.i.+p was capsizing.

Kazuhiro f.u.k.u.moto heard the crash of the bombs and the booming of the guns. The sounds were coming from directly above him. He and the rest of his damage control unit beneath the middle section of the starboard weather deck were waiting to be sent to a stricken area of the s.h.i.+p. The suspense was nerve-wracking. f.u.k.u.moto envied the men up there shooting the guns. They were so busy they had no time to think about where the next bomb would hit.

At about 1400 f.u.k.u.moto's unit finally received orders. They were needed down on the lowest and second-lowest decks. They split up, with f.u.k.u.moto and three others going to the second-lowest deck, while two officers were to inspect damage on the lowest deck.

Just as they closed the hatch behind them, a torpedo exploded into the starboard hull. Within seconds every man on the lowest deck was killed by the avalanche of seawater. The lights extinguished in the s.p.a.ce where f.u.k.u.moto stood, and water came surging up from below. In the pitch blackness, feeling the water closing around him, the young sailor fought against the panic that swelled up in him.

The air pressure in the rapidly filling compartment built up, blowing open an overhead hatch. A tiny stream of light burst into the flooded compartment, and the terrified sailors swam toward it. They were barely able to enter the compartment above before the flood of water came surging up behind them. They battened down the hatch, but the relentless pressure kept seawater gus.h.i.+ng up through the cracks, threatening to blow the hatch.

More torpedoes slammed into Yamato Yamato. The battles.h.i.+p was listing severely to port. f.u.k.u.moto and his stranded s.h.i.+pmates swam through one compartment after another, making their way toward the stern. They finally arrived at a small hatch that opened to the aft deck.

f.u.k.u.moto was so exhausted from the effort he had to be pulled through the hatch by his division officer. Standing on the stern, he got his first look at the carnage topside. Dead gunners were sprawled across the deck next to their gun mounts. f.u.k.u.moto recognized one of his friends, a sailor named Yos.h.i.+fuji who was no more than sixteen years old. Yos.h.i.+fuji's head was split open, and blood pumped out each time he took a breath. The dying sailor moaned, "Long live the emperor."

The battle was almost over for Yamato Yamato. The s.h.i.+p was nearly capsized, listing so steeply that one of the main gun turrets was already submerged. The crew's bus.h.i.+do bus.h.i.+do spirit had been replaced with the survival instinct. f.u.k.u.moto's division officer gave the order to toss into the sea everything that would float-wooden timbers, logs, judo mats, hammocks. spirit had been replaced with the survival instinct. f.u.k.u.moto's division officer gave the order to toss into the sea everything that would float-wooden timbers, logs, judo mats, hammocks.

The sailors crawled up the nearly vertical deck to the starboard hull. It was wet and slick. With nothing to cling to, sailors were sliding and jumping into the sea.

Yos.h.i.+da wriggled up through the lookout port and clung to the starboard bulkhead of the bridge tower, which was nearly submerged. Rear Admiral Ariga, lashed to his compa.s.s binnacle, had already vanished beneath the water. So had the navigation officer and his a.s.sistant, who also had tied themselves to their stations. Yos.h.i.+da could see dozens of crewmen perched like stranded rats on the rust-colored belly of the battles.h.i.+p.

The sea rose from beneath them. As water engulfed the s.h.i.+p, men disappeared into the yawning eddies and whirlpools around the sinking hull. Yos.h.i.+da drew a deep breath and rolled himself up in a ball. For what seemed an eternity, he churned inside the snarling whirlpool, unable to escape, feeling that each of his limbs was being torn from his body.