Captain Ruger dismissed Sergeant Gleason, who was gently led away by Mackensen. Once again, Ruger climbed on his rock.

"Men, I had Sergeant Gleason tell you his story for a reason. Our training is over, and we're now going back to camp and begin to pack and get organized to ship out. We've only a couple of days left before we're on a boat heading towards Japan. I want you to know I'm proud of you and the effort you've all put in. Let's get moving."

As the men trudged down the hill in a ragged column, Paul knew that he was more afraid of the unknown than he had ever been in his life. When he looked at the faces of his comrades, he could see that same fear reflected in theirs as well.

Dennis Chambers reveled in the unaccustomed delight of eating C rations and ignored Joe Nomura's laughing at him.

"If you don't mind," Joe said, "I'll stick with rice. I've had enough of government food to last a while."

Dennis sighed and munched on a cracker. He'd already devoured the meat portion- whatever it was had been a vast improvement on insects and the occasional rodent- and was saving both the chocolate bar and hard candy for dessert. He'd had to drink the instant coffee cold, but it was still wonderful, as was the powdered lemonade, which contained vitamin C. Already he could feel his gums getting better as his mild case of scurvy was defeated.

After the food, maybe the best part of the C-ration package was the toilet paper, although the cigarettes came in a close second. He never was a heavy smoker, but being able to wipe his behind with something soft was an incredible delight.

After only a couple of days, Dennis felt his strength and health truly returning. Joe had helped make a proper shelter against the weather, which had now turned rainy. It wasn't the Waldorf-Astoria, but it was much drier and warmer than what he'd had either in the POW camp or on the hill where he'd first hidden.

Dennis now knew that Joe had no intention of telling him where he went when he disappeared on his patrols, and he'd also not shown Dennis where the radio and other supplies were cached. That was fine. If captured, he couldn't divulge what he didn't know. Dennis did wonder if the Japs would believe his tale, under torture, of a one-armed Japanese American spying on them. He knew that Nomura had laid a good deal of his own safety and future on the line for a man he didn't really know.

For the foreseeable future, Dennis was content to be able to survive. From what Nomura told him and from what he'd heard before being shot down, the invasion of Japan would happen real soon. He would wait for that day and grow strong. He would return to Barb and they would live happily ever after, he thought with a laugh.

"Enough," said Joe. He wiped scraps of food from his face with his hand.

"How 'bout a drink?" asked Dennis.

"When I come back, but you help yourself, okay? Just don't get drunk."

Joe was right. When Dennis had first had a couple of swallows of the Scotch they'd taken from the Jap pilots, it had nearly knocked him out. "I'll wait." He grinned. "I never did like drinking alone."

Dennis again settled into the shrubs to wait. Something was happening down in the nearby camps, and Joe was trying to confirm it. Joe was upset enough that he didn't even mention what it was he'd noticed, although, upon reflection, Dennis thought it likely that it was something else Joe didn't want him to know about. It was, Dennis realized, just another mystery he would have to deal with.

General Anami had been drunk for a while. The other two senior officers, more recently arrived at the command bunker, were still relatively sober. The Americans were coming and it had reached the point where the generals and admirals could not prevent a landing. It would be up to the soldiers and sailors of Nippon to destroy the invaders. In a way it was a relief.

Anami waved his hand to get their attention as they gathered about the table in the safety of the bunker. His gesture was impolite, but the others ignored the breach of etiquette.

"Kyushu," the general said with only the hint of a slur in his voice. "It will be Kyushu. Of that there is no doubt."

General Anami did not necessarily see such confidence in his declaration in the eyes of the others. Admiral Toyoda was openly worried, and Field Marshal Sugiyama looked away when he heard the statement. They were all thinking the same thing: the right decision meant Japan had a chance of ultimate victory, but the wrong one would result in total disaster and an end to the Japan they revered. They had focused on defending the island of Kyushu, but now they had doubts.

"But what if we are wrong," Toyoda wondered aloud. "If the Americans choose to attack elsewhere, such as Korea, Shikoku, or, God forbid, the Kanto Plain outside Tokyo itself, we would be hard-pressed to stop them. Indeed, we would never stop them."

Anami slapped the table with the flat of his hand. The sharp noise made the others wince. "Kyushu. It will only be Kyushu! Nothing else makes sense. We know how the Americans fight. They are cowards who depend on the weight of their supplies to overwhelm us, instead of fighting at close range like warriors should. For this they need bases and air cover. For them to attack Shikoku or the Kanto Plain would be for them to ignore those needs. No, they will not attack Tokyo without supply depots and land-based air cover. Like us, the Americans are out of options."

Anami chuckled. "I recall that the late and revered Admiral Yamamoto liked to play the American game of poker, which he learned during his tour of duty at our embassy in Washington. I also recall that he taught it to us."

Admiral Toyoda smiled at the memory. "I lost a great deal of money to Yamamoto in a vain attempt to master that game."

Anami wondered what the great Yamamoto would have recommended they do in a situation such as this. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Yamamoto, the architect of the attack on Pearl Harbor, would have counseled surrender. Yamamoto was one of a number of commanders who had worn the cloak of Bushido lightly. It was as if his years in the United States had softened him. Perhaps it was better for their sacred cause that Yamamoto lived on only in memory.

Anami sighed. "To use another American saying, we must play the cards we've been dealt. We are in desperate straits, but we still have some good cards in our hand. First, they must come to us and fight on our homelands, which our military will defend with every drop of blood in their veins. Second, we know exactly what they will do and when they will do it."

The others nodded reluctant agreement. Their actions had been based on a briefing by the brilliant Maj. Eizo Hori of the General Staff. Hori, legendary as a result of his earlier assessments of American intentions, had forecasted the attacks on Iwo Jima, Saipan, and Okinawa with stunning clarity. Japan's tragedy was that she'd been unable to do anything to stop them.

This time would be different. Hori had determined that Kyushu, and only Kyushu, would be the target of the first American assault, and that the attack would occur after October, when the typhoon season was considered over. Hori had then traveled to Kyushu and interviewed

Lt. Gen. Isamu Yokoyama, the commander of the Sixteenth Military District, which comprised Kyushu. He had then hiked the paths and traveled over the stark beaches of the forbidding island.

Hori concluded that the Americans were going to attack in only three places, and that they would attack more than one of them at a time in an attempt to overwhelm the Japanese defenders. The three places were the west side of the Satsuma Peninsula, Ariake Bay on the east side of Kyushu, and the land south of the city of Miyazaki, which was also on the eastern part of the island. No other places made sense. America's goals would be to establish bases in the bays of Kagoshima and Ariake and use them to launch a final assault on the Kanto Plain. Once lodged on Kyushu, the Americans would be almost impossible to dislodge. Thus, it was absolutely essential that they be defeated before securing bases on Kyushu.