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6 The Demilitarization and Occupation of Japan Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, commander of the Pacific Ocean Areas, had invited Admiral Lockwood to attend the surrender ceremonies on the deck of Admiral William F. Halsey's flagship, the USS Missouri, and to designate a dozen submarines and the submarine tender USS Proteus to be present for the ceremony. Departing Guam immediately, 15 August 1945, and steaming steadily toward Tokyo at eighteen knots, Proteus from commodore to cabin steward was a hotbed of rumors. Nobody knew what Japanese forces still survived or what reception they, a proud people, were preparing for the American conqueror. An early intelligence bulletin told of diehards, particularly in the army, refusing to accept the surrender. There was not much we could plan on. Nobody could recall when a previous victor in war had occupied Japan. Commodore Matthew C. Perry and a small naval squadron had opened Japan to the West in 1853. His experience seemed totally remote. We were excited about setting foot on Japanese soil, but the cultural differences of East and West were extreme. We could only speculate on the response of this fanatical, even self-destructive people . That very morning we heard that rumors of Allied landings in western Japan caused terror-stricken women to flee to the hills, some carrying cyanide for use in emergency. Fifteen American airmen in prison in Fukuoka were taken out of their cells and beheaded. The submarine blockade of the Japanese home islands had reduced food supplies to starvation levels. At least one local plan to resist the American invasion called for the elderly to tum in all food stocks and commit suicide. We had few expectations of a serene welcome. On 21 August Proteus joined the Third Fleet south of Tokyo Bay. Even for the old hands the display of naval power was awesome. From one horizon to the other, fleets of flattops, battleships, cruisers, amphibious ships, destroyer squadrons, support forces, and ships of every description, so many as to stun comprehension, all headed for the most important rendezvous in U.S. naval history. On 27 August The Demilitarization of Japan 177 two 1-400 class submarines surrendered at sea and were brought into port. These were massive six-thousand-ton monsters, big as cruisers, three times the size of our subs. Each ship carried three seaplanes that could be launched from catapults. The Japanese had experimented with aircraft-carrying submarines since 1922; the idea still came as a surprise to naval intelligence. Designed to raid the U.S. coasts to drop bacteriological bombs on the populous cities, or to make hit-run raids on the Panama Canal, they came too late for use in these roles. An interesting sidelight occurred in bringing one of the submarines into port. The Japanese skipper, with charts of the minefields and a U.S. prize crew on board, refused to enter the Inland Sea unless a Japanese pilot conned his ship and another ship led the way. The next day, 31 August, Proteus moored in Yokohama Bay and Commodore Parks ordered a select crew ashore to take over the Yokosuka Naval Base. Leading the group were the two division commanders , Rob Roy MacGregor (who had tried to get me to sea with him after I left SterZet) and Bernard F. "Bernie" MacMahon, former CO of Drum, and I, backed by a dozen enlisted volunteers. We left Proteus in the late afternoon, in the rain. On the ten-mile trip to the naval base, we were soon drenched to the bone by heavy seas breaking over the bows of the launches. The only food the tender could scrounge up on short notice was a slice of Spam and an apple. The pot of coffee was soon a cold blend of polluted sea water. Nobody cared. Arriving alongside the ancient docks, everybody wanted to be the first ashore, but nobody wanted to scramble up the oily steps and trigger a booby trap. Once somebody stepped fully on a plank, the others immediately joined, then waited for the next brave man to try another step. We had no idea what to expect from the Japanese. The first people ashore, we tried to be ready for anything. The yard, pitch dark and gloomy, appeared to be abandoned. Somebody decided to build a fire while we contemplated the next step. Several oil-soaked rattan fenders, used to prevent damage to ships corning alongside a dock, were soon burning briskly. As we crowded around for warmth...

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