The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun. Dirk van den Boom

central naval bases of Nippon Kaigun, the navy of the Empire of Greater Japan, whose proud member Aritomo had been since the age of 17.

      Just this one mission, his superiors had told him, and the promotion to Kaigun Daii, full lieutenant, was imminent. Aritomo’s ambition was not excessive. He didn’t dream of the admiral’s staff, only of his own command. And he would already achieve this with the rank of a lieutenant, because the division of the fleet in which he was employed offered ideal conditions for a career. Lieutenants had already been appointed commanding officers, and Aritomo himself would now serve as first officer. There were not many who could claim that at such a young age.

      It was quite possible in Japan’s small but ever growing submarine fleet.

      His papers were thoroughly examined when he got off the bus, and that although the officer on watch was a familiar comrade of his; he exchanged a few kind words with him. It was already dark, when Aritomo had finally reached his quarters, a small room only sparsely lit by a gas lamp, spartanly furnished.

      Despite the long trip, he felt a certain restlessness that wouldn’t let him sleep. He stowed his luggage as far as it was necessary in view of his imminent departure. As a second lieutenant, he enjoyed the privilege of sharing a room with just one comrade, and at the moment the second bed was empty. A room for himself, that was something that irritated him. He had none at home, he had not enjoyed any during training, and he would serve on a submarine that barely gave him his own berth. Aritomo wasn’t used to privacy. It made him restless.

      He therefore decided to give his mind some rest by taking a walk in the calmness of the evening. As he stepped outside, he unconsciously steered his steps toward the harbor, where Navy ships were moored. He marched past the mighty units, ignoring them until he came to that guarded area where the small submarine fleet of the Empire was to be found. His face was known, yet his papers were re-examined thoroughly. Then he was let into the locked district, which was so well guarded because Aritomo’s boat was stationed here.

      He wandered the black shadows of the small Holland boats that still formed the backbone of the tiny fleet and where he had served at the beginning of his career. He liked to think back to that time, despite the very cramped conditions aboard the units, and the fact that these American designs were constantly struggling with all sorts of technical issues that severely affected their operational readiness and range. Aritomo had in the end served as helmsman on one of those cramped, thick-bellied boats, one of only eight crew members, and it had been a torture. But the need to build a submarine force hadn’t been ignored by the Admiralty, and so they turned to the British – who built the Holland licensee – and looked around for improvements.

      Aritomo’s eyes fell on the very peripheral construction hall, half on land, half in the water. It was particularly secure, with additional guards, and he wouldn’t gain access at this time, though he would be the first officer in the vehicle to wait for its maiden voyage tomorrow morning.

      A big secret, but not one that would be kept as such for a long time. Aritomo felt a deep satisfaction that he was allowed to participate in this historic moment. If everything went well, he would make his nation and his parents proud, and if he increased his experience as a submarine officer by doing so, his own command was just a formality. His goal to train new officers at the Naval Academy would sooner or later be realized. He liked to teach and he liked to learn. A career as an instructor, in addition to his own command, was the central goal of his ambitions.

      It looked good.

      Everything in his life had developed wonderfully.

      “Can’t sleep?”

      Aritomo turned to see Yuto Sarukazaki in the twilight. The Ittoheiso was the oldest member of his crew, the highest non-commissioned officer and at the same time the chief engineer of their boat. At almost forty, he was a formidable figure. Aritomo liked the pragmatic and effective man, and he liked to listen to his advice. This put him in sharp contrast to the captain and joint superior, Lieutenant Inugami, who insisted that the sharp line between officers and the rest couldn’t be transgressed by informal behavior and exaggerated camaraderie. Why did he insist on such things in the oppressive narrowness of a submarine? Here, where a cordial cooperation between all soldiers was necessary, one didn’t want to get on someone’s nerves quickly. Aritomo didn’t understand. For him, submarine people were a special kind, for which some of the very rigid rules prevailing in the Navy didn’t apply. Locked in a metal can, threatened by a particularly cruel death, this shared destiny – the real and the potential – should make a different kind of personal connection possible.

      Inugami had probably never really gotten used to this idea. But the difficult superior would remain an episode, something to endure on a path that would take Aritomo past it.

      “I’m not tired yet,” Aritomo replied, tilting his head toward the factory floor. “I can’t wait.”

      “I understand you well. But it doesn’t seem like everything will go as planned tomorrow.”

      Aritomo looked up. “What happened?”

      Sarukazaki had a cigarette in his hand, its red glow well visible in the darkness.

      “While you were on vacation, plans have changed. I don’t know any details; so far only Inugami has been informed. But he looked so happy and pleased that an important announcement must be imminent.”

      Sarukazaki apparently wanted to add something, but then thought better of it and said nothing. Anyway, Aritomo guessed what he had meant to say – anything that pleased his stern commander didn’t necessarily have to be positive for the rest of the crew. Inugami was far more ambitious than his first officer and ready to give anything to position himself in the right light. Aritomo knew that some of the crew members called him “Lieutenant Taisho” behind his back, hinting to the man’s clear aim to rise to Admiralty rank as quickly and effectively as possible.

      Aritomo always pretended he didn’t hear those remarks. He didn’t like the man, but to obey was his duty. After all, Inugami was only a year older, and therefore it wasn’t so natural for him to beat Aritomo if he didn’t quite do what the commander had asked him to. With the other crew members, perhaps with the exception of the much older boatswain, he dealt liberally with corporal punishment. Blows in the face were not uncommon. Aritomo didn’t belong to the faction among Navy officers who considered this tradition to be meaningful. He didn’t employ beatings, as was his freedom of choice as an officer.

      But who was he to fundamentally question the traditions? That was indeed the job of an admiral.

      “No rumors? Normally, lower ranks know more about everything than we do,” Aritomo insisted.

      Sarukazaki grinned, showing his immaculate white teeth, which Aritomo secretly envied. He took a last drag from his cigarette before dropping the shimmering rest to the floor and putting it out with the heel of his shoe. As a smoker, it was difficult for him to forgo his addiction for weeks while confined in a submarine, aside from those spells they stayed above water.

      “Security measures have been stepped up, there are extra guards, and our commander is dripping with joy – I suspect we expect a really high visit to celebrate our maiden voyage. Probably someone from the highest ranks of Admiralty, if you ask me.”

      Aritomo nodded. This supposition did indeed fit well with his own speculations. “Then we should be ready,” he said, taking in the cool evening air before turning around. “I’ll try to find sleep now. I suggest you do as well, Ittoheiso Sarukazaki.”

      The man stood tight and saluted with a smile. “Yes, Sir.” With that he turned away and disappeared in the darkness.

      Aritomo paused a moment longer before following his own advice. If it was true what the man had told him – and that something was in the works there was no doubt –, he would need all his energy tomorrow in order to make the necessary preparations.

      And to endure the slimy anticipation of his commander.

      If he liked it or not, now was time to endure some privacy.

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