No Surrender Read Online Free Page B

Futamata, north of Hamamatsu.”
    That was all I could get out of him, but I could tell I was going to some sort of special unit.
    After our graduation ceremony on August 13, some of us went to say good-bye to Captain Shigetomi, who told us all, for the last time, to be good officers. He was almost tearful as he patted each of us on the back and wished us well.

    When I arrived at Futamata on August 16, I was told that training would not begin until September 1. I was directed to take a two-week leave in the meantime.
    I went to Tokyo, partly because I wanted to get a company officer’s sword belt from my oldest brother, who had been promoted to the rank of major and was now entitled to wear a field officer’s sword belt. My brother had been transferred to the Army Medical Administration in Tokyo and was living in Nakano, which was then on the outskirts of the city. He asked me about the outfit I was being assigned to; I told him the name of the squadron, adding that I had no idea what it did.
    My brother looked startled. “It’s this,” he said. He firststuck out the index and middle fingers of his right hand and then made a motion like that of pouring water into a teapot. I assumed he was being secretive because his wife was present. I merely nodded my understanding.
    Not that I understood completely. The pointed fingers meant a karate thrust into an opponent’s eyes, and the gesture of pouring tea suggested giving someone a dose—of poison. I took this to mean that I was to be engaged in some sort of spying, but I was not sure what sort. The idea that I might be assigned to intelligence work was not particularly surprising to me, because back in Nan-ch’ang Lieutenant Ōno had once said to me, “We are short of good people for the pacification squads. With your Chinese, when you finish officers’ training school, you ought to be given a job in that field.”
    â€œPacification squad” was the current term for units that infiltrated behind enemy lines and tried to break down defenses from within. They corresponded in many ways to what the Americans called “commando squadrons.”
    The next day my brother gave me the sword belt, and after I had gone to pay my respects before the imperial palace, Yasukuni Shrine and Meiji Shrine, I went to Wakayama to see the rest of my family.

    The training center I went to was properly called the Futamata Branch of the Nakano Military School, but the sign over the gate said only Futamata Army Training Squadron. It was no more than a small collection of decrepit army barracks, located a little more than a mile from Futamata railway station. The school was not far from a place on the TenryÅ« River that had once been used by the Third Engineer Corps from Nagoya as a practice area for army bridge builders.
    My group was the branch school’s first class, and on September 1 there was an opening ceremony. The commandant,Lieutenant Colonel Mamoru Kumagawa, addressed our class of 230 officers with words to the following effect: “The purpose of this branch school is to train you in secret warfare. For that reason, the real name of the school is to be kept absolutely secret. Furthermore, you yourselves are to discard any ideas you may have had of achieving military honors.”
    This came as no shock to me, because my brother had warned me in Tokyo, but the others looked at each other in amazement and anxiety. The anxiety only increased when one of the instructors, Lieutenant Sawayama, stood up and started shooting questions at us.
    â€œWhen you gentlemen arrived in Futamata, what impression did it make on you?” he asked. Then, without waiting for answers:
    â€œIf there were troops stationed here, how many battalions do you think there would be?
    â€œWhat is the principal industry here?
    â€œJust what kind of a town is this?
    â€œHow much food do you think the town could provide for army troops?
    â€œWhat is the