1945

Marshall was prepared. "Sir, while only the Sixth Army under General Krueger is currently active in Kyushu, the First and Eighth armies are preparing to invade Honshu, near Tokyo. Put together, you have an army group, and General Bradley has extensive experience at that command level having led one in Europe."

Truman had read his mind. "What about yourself?"

Marshall smiled. "Other than the fact that you wouldn't let me go, I have to admit that I can serve the war effort better here in Washington than I could over there."

Truman concurred but was insistent. "Then what about Patton, or Eichelberger, or even General Krueger, for that matter?"

"Sir, General Patton is the wrong type of commander for this war. The very aggressiveness that made him successful against the Nazis would hinder him in Japan. Kyushu represents a grinding type of assault and not the war of motion and maneuver that is Patton's specialty. I'm afraid the result would be still more casualties and little gained from it.

"Generals Eichelberger and Krueger are fine men, but they suffer from two flaws. First, neither has commanded at the army group level, and it is not time to experiment or train someone. Second, neither Eichelberger nor Krueger are reconizable names to the American public. The death of MacArthur is a terrible shock, and in order to keep the confidence of the American public, that shock must be countered by naming someone of great stature and high regard to replace him. By all aspects, General Omar Bradley is the best- no, the only- choice."

"Agreed," Truman said softly. Marshall was right on both counts, particularly the second. Marshall's political acumen and sense of what the nation wanted did not surprise him. It reinforced his opinion that Marshall might be an excellent replacement for Byrnes at State. Byrnes's health had begun to fail, and at sixty-six he wasn't getting any younger. Hell, Truman snorted, who was?

"Sir, I've included General Bradley on everything about Olympic and the subsequent plans for Coronet for more than a month now. He is as well prepared as he possibly could be."

Truman was surprised and wondered why he felt that way. Marshall was always doing these things. The man was incredible. "And why, may I ask, did you presume to do that?"

"Mr. President, I had no idea that General MacArthur would be killed. I did, however, have serious concerns that he might not be physically or emotionally up to the monumental task before him. I was worried that he might have problems that would require him to be replaced very quickly, and I made certain that General Bradley was well groomed to succeed him in the event that occurred."

Truman smiled. "God, you are a coldhearted bastard. But I'm damned glad you're on our side and not theirs, and I'm even more glad you did what you did, distasteful though I find it."

"General Bradley found it distasteful as well, but I prevailed on his sense of duty and he agreed to spend his time boning up on Downfall. I am confident that he is as knowledgeable as he could be without actually being there."

"When can he be ready to leave for Japan?"

Marshall checked his watch. "General Bradley is packed and ready to depart at a moment's notice. Planes are ready to begin relaying him across the country and then across the Pacific. If all goes well, he could be with Nimitz on Guam or Okinawa in twenty-four to thirty-six hours."

Truman was pleased. "Where is he now? I would like to make an announcement of his appointment, and he should be standing beside me when I do it."

Marshall again smiled. "Sir, he's waiting in the next room."

CHAPTER 43

Joe Nomura pedaled carefully through the narrow and littered streets of the squalid camp. It wasn't easy to maneuver the bike with only one arm, and the dirt paths between the hundreds of tents were filled with hordes of displaced humanity. The areas between the rough living quarters were strewn with trash, a most un-Japanese phenomenon. To Joe it meant that the fabric of Japanese civilization was unraveling.

It amused him to watch the reactions on the faces of the Japanese civilians. Their eyes immediately went to the kempei armband and they moved out of the way as quickly as possible to let him pass. Don't stop here, they silently told him. No one wanted to be on the kempei shit list, he decided. From what he'd heard about the kempei's more recent methods of punishment and extracting information, he couldn't blame them. The kempei had not always been overly brutal, but the desperation of the times was driving them to it.

Joe found a policeman and harshly ordered him to direct him to the kempei field office. Joe had almost asked him politely, but recalled that Japanese officers habitually treated those of lesser rank and stature with cold contempt. His rudeness was expected and in keeping with his position.