Black Wind Read Free Page B

interior.
    Naval authority on submarines was notably relaxed, even in the Japanese Navy, and operations on the I-403 were no different. Officers and enlisted crew mixed easily, sharing the same meals and suffering the same miseries aboard the cramped vessel. The I-403 had survived depth charge attacks on three different occasions and the near-death experiences had bonded the crew tightly together. They were survivors in a deadly game of cat and mouse and felt the I-403 was a lucky ship that could defy the enemy.
    On the fourteenth night, the I-403 surfaced near the Aleutian island of Amchitka and quickly found the supply ship Morioka anchored in a small cove. Ogawa gently brought his vessel alongside the surface ship and mooring lines were tossed across. As diesel fuel was pumped into the submarine’s reservoir tanks, crewmen on each vessel bantered back and forth in the freezing cold.
    â€œAren’t you a little cramped in that anchovy tin?” asked a bundled yeoman at the ship’s rail.
    â€œNo, we’ve got plenty of room for our canned fruit, chestnuts, and sake!” yelled back a submariner, boastful of the superior food the undersea services were provided.
    The refueling operation was completed in less than three hours. One of the submarine’s crewmen, diagnosed as suffering an acute bout of appendicitis, was transferred to the ship for medical attention. After rewarding the supply ship crew with a box of hard candies, the I-403 cast off on an eastward tack toward North America. The skies gradually turned black and the gray-green ocean waters frothed with spray as the I-403 found herself sailing into the teeth of an early winter storm. The sub was tossed violently for three nights as waves flooded across the low deck and crashed into the conning tower as the sub attempted to recharge its batteries. A lookout was nearly washed overboard into the icy seas on one occasion, and many of the experienced crew succumbed to bouts of seasickness. Strong westerly winds aided the voyage, however, pushing the sub briskly through the swells and quickening its trek east.
    Gradually, the winds began to ease and the seas flattened. Ogawa was pleased to find his vessel had survived Mother Nature’s buffeting with no damage. The battered crew regained their sea legs and their fighting morale as the seas stabilized and the submarine neared the enemy’s homeland.
    â€œCaptain, I have a final plot to the coast,” Seiji Kakishita remarked as he unrolled a chart of the northeast Pacific Ocean in front of Ogawa. The I-403 ’s navigator had ceased shaving, like many crewmen upon leaving port, and sported a straggly tuft of hair from his chin that created a cartoonish look about him.
    â€œWhat is our present position?” Ogawa inquired as he studied the map.
    â€œRight here,” Kakishita replied as he pointed to a spot on the map with a pair of dividers. “Approximately two hundred kilometers west of Vancouver Island. We have two more hours of darkness for surface running, which will bring us to within 150 kilometers of land by daybreak on our current heading.”
    Ogawa studied the chart intently for a few moments before speaking. “We are too far north. I wish to launch the attack from a point central to the four targets in order to minimize flight time. Bring us south and we’ll approach the coastline here,” he said, stubbing his finger at the map. Beneath his fingertip lay the northwest tip of Washington State, an angular peak of land that jutted into the Pacific Ocean like the snout of a hungry dog. Just to the north lay the Strait of Juan de Fuca, which created a natural border channel with British Columbia and was the main thoroughfare for maritime traffic from Vancouver and Seattle into the Pacific Ocean.
    Kakishita hurriedly plotted a new route on the map and recalculated the distances. “Sir, I compute that we can arrive at a position fifteen kilometers offshore