Page 38 of Daikon

“What we’re hearing from Nagasaki,” Onda was saying, “is that the bomb was detonated above the ground, like at Hiroshima. We have estimates of between 500 and 800 meters. What do you say to that, Sensei? I’m thinking we should detonate in that range.”

Kan didn’t know enough about the power of the bomb to come up with any sort of useful calculation. “That seems sensible,” he replied. “You may as well follow the Americans’ lead.”

“Why not detonate it close to the ground?” asked Yagi.

Kan shook his head. “That would excavate a large crater. Wasted energy, throwing up all that dirt. Detonating it above the ground would be more effective.”

“Coming in with some altitude will also make our task easier,” said Onda.

Kan became aware of a strange sensation, a sort of déjà vu. It felt odd talking so matter-of-factly about detonating an atomic bomb over an actual target. What would the island look like after? How many people would it kill? What nightmarish scenes would he be helping to create?

“And now,” said Onda, straightening up, “about the good news I mentioned. In addition to me as the pilot, we now have a copilot, a navigator, and a flight engineer. All first-rate men. That just leaves two positions still vacant.”

He paused, looking from Kan to Yagi. Something important was coming. This was confirmed by Onda’s formal tone when he resumed.

“Petty Officer Second Class Ryohei Yagi, as a representative of the Imperial Japanese Navy. And Dr. Keizo Kan, as a representative of Dai Nippon’s loyal civilian army.

You are hereby offered the opportunity to accompany me on this mission to destroy the Special Task Planes on Tinian Island, this glorious mission in defense of our homeland. ”

Yagi’s face hardened. He lowered his head.

Kan beside him seemed to wilt. He looked with dismay at Captain Onda, his mouth agape, his eyes wide. “But, Onda-tai-i,” he stammered. “One moment, please. This—I—I can’t—”

“Pardon me, Captain,” said Yagi, looking up. “I don’t know anything about aircraft. And I believe the Sensei’s knowledge is limited too.”

“Yes,” Kan quickly added. “I know nothing about planes.”

“No flying knowledge is needed,” said Onda. “You two will be responsible for the bomb. For the Daikon. No one knows it better, wouldn’t you say? You even gave it a name!”

He turned to Yagi. “Yagi-heisō, you’ll also man the tail gun when we make our final approach.

You mentioned having experience with an anti-aircraft gun aboard your ship.

You shot down a Hellcat! What better experience is there than that?

And with any luck we won’t need to use the guns at all.

Only if we encounter trouble—which I don’t think we will, flying at night and approaching the target at dawn.

So you’ll be able to spend almost the whole flight sitting beside the Sensei in the radio compartment.

To assist him. Only when we’re on our approach will I need you on the tail gun, to keep away any fighters that might attack us.

And when the final moment comes…” Onda turned to Kan.

“When that moment comes, Sensei, it will be your job to operate the trigger.”

Onda was smiling, as if he had just bestowed on them a precious gift. “It is Colonel Sagara’s particular wish,” he added, “that both of you be offered this honor in recognition of your service. May I inform him of your eager acceptance?”

“But…”

It was all Kan could get out. He cast a frantic look at Yagi. The petty officer was stone-faced, his mouth tightly closed.

“So may I inform the Colonel that you have volunteered?” pressed Onda. “That you have gratefully accepted this honor?”

Silence.

Onda’s smile faded.

He inclined his head toward Yagi and lowered his voice. “It really is a rare opportunity for you, Yagi-heisō. A chance to redeem the honor of the Navy after the loss of so many ships. After the loss of almost every ship, in fact.”

Anger came into Yagi’s face.

Onda kept pressing. “I’ve even heard Admiral Yonai referred to as the ‘Goldfish Minister,’?” he said. “I found that very offensive, a top admiral being insulted that way.”

The lines in Yagi’s forehead deepened. The muscles in his jaw stood out as he clenched his teeth.

“But a steady nerve is required. A special kind of courage. Courage that not everyone possesses.”

Yagi’s lips turned white as he pressed his mouth shut.

“If you don’t feel up to the task, however—”

“My duty!” Yagi blurted out, directing a glare at Onda. “Please thank the Colonel!”

“Excellent!”

Onda turned to Kan.

“Sensei?”

Kan met the eager gaze with a glassy look of panic, the frozen stare of an animal caught in a trap as the hunter approaches.

There was of course a way out. He did not have Yagi’s pride.

He could embrace his cowardice and refuse to volunteer and save himself.

But that would mean condemning Noriko. Colonel Sagara would see to it. This was his revenge.

He lowered his head. His shoulders sagged.

“Please thank Colonel Sagara for this honor,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

“I knew it!” exclaimed Onda, seizing Kan’s hand and shaking it hard, then doing the same to Yagi’s. “This is splendid! Together we’ll deliver a crushing blow to the Yankees!”

They stood in silence after Captain Onda left them, Kan overwhelmed by the chasm of terror that had opened before him. He was no kamikaze hero. He was only a weak civilian, a middle-aged man who could not keep his legs from shaking.

Yagi sprawled in the chair behind the desk, put up his feet, and casually lit a cigarette. He leaned back and started blowing smoke rings, unperturbed.

“What’s wrong with you!” snapped Kan, suddenly annoyed. “Don’t you know what just happened? Don’t you care? We’re going on a suicide mission!”

Yagi snorted smoke through his nose. “No, I don’t care. Because I won’t be going.”

“But we just volunteered!”

Yagi looked at Kan sharply, his mouth curling into a smirk. “You still haven’t figured it out?”

“Figured what out?”

“You can’t smell me?” Yagi rubbed his chin, which needed shaving. “Look at the stubble.”

“What are you talking about!”

Yagi lurched out of the chair and thrust his face into Kan’s, his eyes wild and wide. Then he hunched over like a monkey, arms out from his sides, and started hooting and hopping about.

“ Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh. Look at Yagi. Look at the hairy Korean. Yagi smells like garlic. Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh. Look at the dirty Korean.”

Kan took a step back. He knew the navy man was strange but now he seemed crazy.

Yagi straightened up and came at him again.

“I’m Korean! My name was Yang Byeong-il!

I was born in Keisho-do!” He threw his head back and spat out a laugh.

“Do you really think they’ll let a Korean go on their mission?

On their sacred mission? I’ll be bad luck!

Yamato race only! I’ll stink up the plane! ”

Yagi’s anger subsided. He picked up the cigarette he had dropped, thrust it between his lips, and started pacing about, Kan staying out of his way.

“You just watch,” Yagi continued. “There’ll be a scramble to get me replaced as soon as they find out. And then they’ll look like fools.”

He viciously ground his cigarette into the ashtray and turned to face Kan with a sneer.

“And you…” Yagi bobbed his head up and down, mockingly cringing.

“?‘Oh, thank you, Captain Onda. Thank you for releasing my wife.’?” He straightened up and glared.

“Do you really think he did that? Or that colonel? Do you really believe them? Wake up! Don’t be a fool! The bastards are lying to you!”

He stormed out of the office, leaving Kan feeling sick.