The Winter of Our Discontent
Tokyo, Japan
1965 February 13
2:19 PM JSTGeneral Kuribayashi Tadamichi listened to the elderly Prime Minister of Japan as he went on yet another rant about the Germans and their evil desire for world domination. Honestly, he'd heard the same rant on at least a dozen prior occasions, usually at briefings for the Emperor like this one. Tojo Hideki had been Prime Minister on and off for twenty four years, including for almost all of the Pacific War with the United States, but he was eighty years old now, and it showed. There were rumors in the General Staff Office that Tojo was becoming senile; Kuribayashi didn't exactly
encourage the rumors, but he
did more or less agree with them. Secretly, of course.
His Majesty the Emperor sat quietly at the head of the table, looking for all the world like a man who was totally engrossed in Tojo's rambling impromptu speech (or, at least, as impromptu as a speech written out on several pages got), but Kuribayashi knew the Emperor had heard it all far more often than he himself. Kuribayashi was the Chief of the Army General Staff, as he'd been since Tojo named him to that post in 1962 (something the Prime Minister had been able to do since the enactment of 1951's Military Control Law), but naturally Tojo had been around much longer.
Kuribayashi glanced at the admirals sitting on the other side of the table - Nagumo Chuichi, the Navy Minister; Mikawa Gunichi, the Chief of Naval Operations; and the venerable Yamamoto Isoroku, the Chief of the Navy General Staff - and realized with a start that the emperor was the
youngest man in the room. Kuribayashi himself was in his sixties, and yet was the youngest officer present. Because Tojo was concurrently serving as Army Minister, General Ushijima Mitsuru, the Chief of Army Operations, was the only member of the General Headquarters not present - the man was home sick with the flu - but he wasn't exactly young either. No, Tojo evidently wasn't looking for young talent; he was carefully crafting a gerentocracy centered on the so-called "heroes" of the Second World War.
As Kuribayashi completed this analysis, Tojo finished a sentence, and Admiral Nagumo spoke up. "Mr. Prime Minister," he said slowly, "Excuse me, but I distinctly remember this speech. I do believe you delivered it to this council just last week." Tojo bristled, but Nagumo wasn't finished. "In fact," he continued, "According to my notes, I believe the next line is, 'With the incessant danger presented by the German dogs, it is imperative that we continue to bolster our nuclear arsenal. There is otherwise nothing to stop the villains in Germany from wiping Japan from the face of the globe.' It was a powerful line last week, but I fear it will seem rather repetitive today."
Tojo glared at Nagumo, but then put down his speech, which was something. "I shall conclude my remarks, then," he said, a note of forced calm in his voice, "This is a dangerous world, and the Japanese people must-"
The Emperor abruptly stood up, and Tojo shut up at once. The other officers present rose to their feet as well, aside from Nagumo, who was wheelchair-bound. "We are thirsty," His Majesty said softly, "This meeting shall have a fifteen minute recess, beginning now." And with that, the Emperor left the room.
Tojo stood stock still, looking as if he'd been slapped. Nagumo and Mikawa resumed a conversation they had been engaged in when the meeting started twenty minutes earlier. Yamamoto met Kuribayashi's gaze, and nodded slightly at the door the Emperor had just used. Kuribayashi's eyes widened despite himself, and he nodded slowly in acknowledgement. Yamamoto strolled out of the room, and Kuribayashi followed. Once in the hall outside the council room, Yamamoto turned to face the younger general. Kuribayashi bowed in deference to his elder.
"Oh, stand up, General," the admiral said impatiently. Kuribayashi straightened immediately. "We likely do not have much time, so I will make this quick," Yamamoto continued, that same note of impatience remaining in his voice, "Tojo is endangering not just the Empire, but the world, with his rhetoric and his aggressive behavior. Surely you have noticed this."
Kuriyabashi said nothing. He wondered if Yamamoto, hero of Pearl Harbor, Midway, and the Coral Sea, was saying what he thought he was saying.
"He must be removed," the admiral went on, a touch of desperation joining the impatience in his tone, "He will become suspicious at our collective absence, so we will say nothing more at present. I will find you after; do not go too far."
"How do I know this is not just a ploy to expose disloyal officers?" Kuribayashi asked, breaking his silence at last, hardly able to believe his ears.
Yamamoto's eyes flashed dangerously. "I have heard rumors that you are trustworthy," he said, "That you are discontented with the present regime. If this is not true, I promise that I will deny anything you say about this discussion, and because I have seniority, you will not be believed."
"I merely wanted assurance that I was not walking into a trap," Kuribayashi said steadily, "I feel my concerns have now been addressed. Perhaps we-"
He broke off suddenly as the Emperor appeared around the corner at the end of the hall. The two senior military officers bowed deeply, but His Majesty merely gestured at the door into the conference room. Kuribayashi and Yamamoto glanced at each other. This would have to wait, then, until after the meeting concluded. There was nothing else for it.