Operation Sleeping Dragon

By Peter Krebs

In the dying days of World War II, the Japanese High Command devise a final and desperate plan to prevent inevitable defeat.

That plan was code-named: Operation Sleeping Dragon.

However, even the best-laid plans can go horribly wrong.

Now, over 50 years after the end of the war, a recent dis

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Krebs
• Release date: Jul 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645190410

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast:

and they worshipped the beast, saying,

Who is like unto the beast?

who is able to make war with him?

REVELATION - 13-4

Siebert now remembered why he always hated funerals in the past. It was not so much the anxious wait, and the wailing relatives, or even the emotion-charged eulogies, but it was the fact that it reminded him of his eventual mortality and how little he felt he had achieved in his life. The recent years had flown past so quickly, he thought, as he stood outside the cold and windy terminal of Canberra Airport looking older than his forty-something years. He casually leant on the wire fence, watching as members of the military honour guard adjusted their caps and checked each other's uniform. It was a cold day in Canberra, customary for this time of year. The intermittent gusts of wind would send the occasional cap spiralling into the air to be chased by the irate soldier who lost it.

Siebert straightened up and tucked in the belt of his trench coat as he watched an older man walking in the distance, looking down at the ground as if in deep contemplation. They had been waiting for hours now and still no sign of the aircraft that was carrying the mortal remains of a long-lost hero. He slowly walked back towards the terminal, glancing back uneasily as he decided to let the older man have some privacy. Inside he picked up a newspaper, grabbed a cup of coffee, and sat down, glad to be out of the cold. He briefly read the first few pages before he gave up, and folding the paper, he slumped down in the seat and stared out the window in a daze.

Siebert was a man with a lot on his mind. He had worked in the intelligence service for many years and had learned a lot. However, nothing prepared him for what had happened to him in the past few weeks. His past, present, and future all seemed to suddenly and violently collide. He let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair and tried to formulate in his mind his final report to his superiors on the whole affair, carefully considering where to start and, more importantly, what matters he should perhaps, leave out.

'Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end; then stop.' So commanded the King to the White Rabbit in Lewis Carroll's classic tale Alice in Wonderland. Siebert smiled when he remembered that he had read that very book just recently in quarantine. He straightened up in his seat and decided that is precisely where he would begin.

As far as Siebert was concerned, it all started back in Japanese occupied Manchuria in about the middle of July 1945 towards the end of the war. In his mind, he could imagine Major Tadatomo Shiba of the Japanese Imperial Army standing at the end of the runway about a few hundred metres away from the main hangars. Appearing eager with anticipation at the arrival of an aircraft, Shiba was perhaps reminiscing about when he first saw an aeroplane as a small boy back in the Japanese fishing village where he was born.

It was not so much the aircraft that was the focus of Shiba's attention. It was its cargo. White rabbits of the laboratory kind, for intents and purposes.

It would be another hot day with clear skies, Shiba thought as he looked towards the blue and rusty coloured mountain ranges in the far distance. Suddenly the faint hum of engines could be heard in the distance as he strained his eyes and saw the rapidly approaching aircraft as it began its final descent. The Japanese Military Transport Aircraft gently touched down along the dusty airstrip, throwing up dust clouds as it raced along the runway.

The olive-green aircraft with the red circle insignia of the Japanese rising sun taxied up to the hangars until the pilot could see the groundsman signalling him to swing the aircraft towards him and park it just opposite the main hangar and cut the engines. Shiba, who was by himself, walked the short distance to the aircraft with his hands clasped behind his back as if taking a stroll in a park.

Siebert had learnt that this aircraft had just arrived at the most secret military base in what now remained of the once-powerful and proud Japanese empire. The base was officially known as the 'Epidemic Prevention and Water Supply Unit of the Japanese Kwantung Army'. That seemed harmless enough, but its real purpose, unknown to the Allies and even most Japanese at the time, was to research biological and chemical warfare. It became known after the war as the infamous Unit 731.

Siebert knew that back in July 1945, things weren't going too well for the Japs. Their army was being forced back on all fronts, and they had suffered grievous losses at the hands of the Allied Forces. Their navy, which before the war was the third most powerful in the world, now had most of its battleships and aircraft carriers sunk in recent months. And on the home front, things were worse. American B-29 heavy bombers were striking Japanese cities at will, systematically pounding them to rubble and creating firestorms that killed tens of thousands of people at a time. Those left alive were facing the real prospect of starving to death in the next few months. Defeat was staring them in the face, and it was only a question of time, or so it seemed until Siebert's recent discovery.

Historically, Siebert could not find out much about Unit 731 and its personnel. He had to dig out most of the information himself. The unit's research complex at Pingfan was in the most isolated and least populated area of Northern China. Shiba was initially sent there when it was established in the early thirties, just after the Japanese Army invaded Northern China and established a sovereign state of Manchukuo. Sensibly, they chose that location not only from a security point of view but also in the event of an accidental release of contagion. No significant population centre could be threatened.

However, like the Manhattan Project, which developed the atom bomb and other research centres, both Allied and Axis, secrecy was of paramount concern at Pingfan. But it was no secret that biological and chemical warfare was banned by the Geneva Protocol of 1925 due to the aftermath of the First World War. It was also no secret that most major world powers carried out high-level research into it anyway.

As the American scientists worked on developing nuclear weapons throughout the war years, Japanese scientists like Shiba worked quietly and intensely at Pingfan on biological weapons. They carried out experiments with anthrax, botulism, cholera, typhus, bubonic plague, diphtheria, encephalitis and a range of other biological agents, mainly on live human beings. The human guinea pigs used in the facility were routinely referred to by the personnel as maruta–a Japanese word for a wood log. A reference to something only useful for a specific purpose and, in any event, cheap, abundant, and easily disposable. It had an important de-humanising effect. Unit 731 primarily used Chinese peasants or sometimes Russians, who would have been accused of some minor indiscretion to the Japanese authorities and subsequently rounded up by the kenpeitai–the Japanese secret police.

Upon arrival at the complex, the unfortunate prisoners were subjected to an extensive medical examination and had to answer detailed questionnaires about their medical history and parentage. From there, they were placed in isolation rooms to await their eventual use by the scientists at the facility. They were given good quality food and saved from the usual privations that the Japanese authorities inflicted on those who offended them.

After their evaluation, they were sent to a specific research section in the complex, and it is from there, the nightmare of their last days of life would begin. They would be subjected to a whole host of experiments and vivisection. They would be exposed to the whole range of diseases and toxins, with their last agonising moments of life recorded by the Japanese scientists and technicians observing them quietly and efficiently without any pity or remorse for the suffering they imposed. The maruta could be exposed to the plague, frostbite, gas gangrene, or placed in a pressure chamber until their lungs exploded. They died in their thousands inside this complex, all in the name of the emperor and the greater glory of Japan. After they had died, their bodies were piled anonymously into a crematorium. Their ashes used as fertiliser on the rows of beautiful cherry blossom trees that lined the main road up to the administration block of the complex.

How many Shiba had killed in the pursuit of scientific research, he did not know anymore. He had stopped counting some years ago. But didn't his research help discover effective methods for treating the tens of thousands of wounded Japanese service members suffering from various injuries, ailments, and diseases resulting from active service? This was Shiba's justification for this part of the work at the facility, and as for the germ warfare section, wasn't the enemy also engaged in such research?

Even though life was good for the Japanese at Pingfan at this time, with plenty to eat and safety from the Allied bombs which were raining down on Japan, there was the constant fear that the Soviet Union, which at that stage had not declared war on Japan, was about to attack any day now. Reports came in about Soviet forces building up along the border of Manchuria, and all Japanese Army divisions remaining in Manchuria were placed on high alert. The rumours of a possible Soviet attack had been circulating since Germany's defeat in May, but the rumours which were doing the rounds were not about the Soviets. It was something else, something far more critical.

One of the sections had made a startling breakthrough. Despite that secrecy was supposed to be observed in all areas of the complex, with each section operating independently of the other and not knowing what the other was doing, information or gossip as it always does, flowed discreetly from one section to the other. Not much was known of the supposed breakthrough, but it was of such importance it warranted a visit from Tokyo by a very important person to meet with the complex's senior personnel.

Around this time, it was well known that a particular request had been sent for seven Allied prisoners of war of Anglo-Saxon origin, preferably airmen, to be escorted to the facility for special purposes. It was these very men, the maruta, white rabbits or future victims that were on board the transport plane that had just landed.

After the plane had cut its engines, a canvas-covered army truck raced up to the side of the aircraft, quickly followed by a staff car. Four Japanese soldiers jumped from the back of the truck and made their way to the rear hatch of the aircraft as ground personnel placed a stairway against the hatch. Shiba walked over to the staff car, leaned on the side, and watched as he casually lit up a cigarette. The hatch was slowly opened. A Japanese lieutenant on board the plane walked down the stairway from the aircraft and curiously looked around. He had a puzzled expression on his face as he looked for the person in charge. None of the soldiers outside had any insignia on their uniforms that indicated rank. Finally, Shiba alighting from the staff car, approached the officer announcing that he was the major in charge and would take custody of the prisoners. The Japanese lieutenant gave an uneasy salute to Shiba. Not used to such military formality, Shiba gave a wave in return and then ordered his men to lead the Allied prisoners from the aircraft. The prisoners were led off the aircraft one by one, each escorted down by a soldier. They were all blindfolded, and their hands were bound together at the front, making it difficult for them to negotiate the narrow hatch and stairs leading down from the aircraft. They were all wearing the respective uniforms of their countries, which Shiba noticed with approval, confirming they were all Allied airmen.

The first ones to come down the stairs were Americans, the only four surviving members of a crew of a Liberator bomber that had been shot down whilst attacking a Japanese convoy near Okinawa. Next off the aircraft were two Britons, the crew of a Mosquito Bomber, shot down by anti-aircraft fire whilst strafing ground positions in Burma. The final prisoner taken off the aircraft was an Australian, who had the misfortune to have an engine failure in his Spitfire whilst on a high-altitude photo-reconnaissance flight over Japanese-held territory in Borneo. He had successfully evaded capture for two weeks, living with friendly natives until a Japanese patrol finally discovered him. In reprisal for not immediately handing him over to them, the Japanese burned the village to the ground and executed most of the villagers.

With all seven prisoners now standing in a row in silence, their escorts scurried back on board the aircraft when ordered by their lieutenant. Major Shiba casually signed some forms and handed them to the lieutenant, who quickly boarded the aircraft behind his men as if he was in a hurry to get out of there. An assistant handed Shiba a clipboard. He then walked up the line looking at each of the men in turn from head to toe, a passive expression on his face as if examining livestock. When he was satisfied each man was in reasonable condition, he nodded his head in the direction of a truck. The prisoners were immediately lead in that direction and helped into the back by soldiers.

The aircraft immediately started its engines as the stairway was quickly removed from its side. The engines roared to life, throwing up clouds of dust as the plane began its taxi to the end of the runway for take-off. Japanese soldiers who were carrying rifles then boarded the back of the truck behind the prisoners as the aircraft roared down the runway and climbed back into the clear morning sky.

The truck's engine started. There was some shouting in Japanese outside. The canopy at the back of the truck was pulled down and secured, engulfing those inside in total darkness. The truck slowly turned around and then roared off in a cloud of dust down the road past the hangars and then turned left out the main gate which led to the airfield. It rumbled past the sentry post with Major Shiba's staff car close behind it, then turned right onto a sealed road leading to the Pingfan facility. The truck came to the main gates of the facility and slowed down at the main checkpoint. After a brief stop, the barrier was raised, and the truck and staff car proceeded through. The convoy rumbled down the main thoroughfare for some distance before any buildings became visible. It eventually passed a group of multi-story brick buildings on both sides, which seemed to be offices, until the convoy came to a large intersection. Appearing before them was an installation that looked like a Petro-chemical plant with steel pipes interconnecting with reactor vessels of varying dimensions, going off in different directions along the side of the road. Along the way, the convoy passed several technicians in white lab coats on bicycles going to work at the various laboratories scattered around the facility. As they drove along, the men in the back of the truck could suddenly smell a mild putrid stench like sour milk emanating from the chimneys of one of the buildings.

At an intersection, the truck turned right and headed towards a large four-storey red brick building that strangely had no windows, while the staff car carrying Major Shiba turned left and headed towards the two-story administration block. As they approached the administration block, the road was adorned on both sides with cherry blossom trees in full bloom at this time of the year. The roadway was covered with pink and white flower petals, which stirred up into the air as the staff car passed by them.

Major Shiba ordered the driver to take him to the front office, and upon arrival, he alighted smartly from the vehicle and entered the building. He walked quickly along the main corridor and nodded to a bored junior lieutenant who was seated at a desk and then went towards a set of double doors leading to the conference room and the private residence of the Unit's Commanding Officer. As he approached, one of the two guards posted on either side of the entrance opened the door, and Shiba paused for a moment as he smoothed down his uniform and slicked back his hair before walking inside. Entering the room, Shiba looked around a large empty table covered with top-secret documents and was surprised that no one was inside. He stood there for a moment in silence and suddenly heard faint voices at the far end of the room. Shiba then walked towards the glass doors that opened onto a balcony and approached the table outside and to the left, where two very important men were seated. Upon approaching the table, Shiba bowed submissively. Both men silently looked at him with curiosity. Seated at the table was His Royal Highness Prince Tasuda, a cousin of Emperor Hirohito. Prince Tasuda was dressed in the standard dress uniform of the time and was gingerly sipping tea from a small white porcelain cup. On his right, seated at the table, was General Hiro Ishibashi, physician, scientist, and supreme commander of the Pingfan complex.

Ishibashi was the main man in this saga as far as Siebert was concerned, a Japanese version of Doctor Mengele, better known as the Angel of Death of the Nazi death camps. Siebert now knew pretty much all there was to know about him. So much so that he could have written his CV. Physically, he was a tall man for a Japanese. About six-foot-tall, slim build and would have been about forty-five years old at the time.

Like his official third in command Shiba, Ishibashi had graduated from university with degrees in science and medicine. Ishibashi's father had been a doctor, but he had no desire to lead a country doctor's quiet life as his father had done. Instead, he joined the Imperial Guards as an army surgeon immediately after graduating from medical school. Ishibashi was an extremely ambitious man and early in his career saw an opportunity to make a name for himself in the army's chemical and biological warfare section. Travelling to Europe in the late twenties, he departed armed with letters of introduction from the military attachés in the various Japanese embassies that only ever mentioned he was an army surgeon interested in disease control. He visited many research establishments both in Europe and the United States of America. It was easy then, for Japan had been on the side of the victorious Allies during the First World War, and as a fellow scientist, he found that he was welcomed with open arms wherever he went. However, what gave Ishibashi the edge was that he spoke English fluently, having started to learn it at an early age at his father's insistence. His father knew that fluency in English in years to come would give his son a competitive advantage over his colleagues. Primarily by having the capacity to read medical and scientific journals from the United States and Britain, which were the sources of major scientific breakthroughs in medicine.

After his return from his overseas fact-finding mission, Ishibashi became convinced that biological warfare would be the key to victory in any future war. Along with his long-time friend Shiba, he became a staunch advocate for its research and development. Still, no matter how hard he tried to obtain even rudimentary facilities to carry out research, he was always met with opposition from his superiors, concerned his ideas for biological warfare were not in keeping with the Japanese code of bushido and ideals of the Samurai warrior.

His window of opportunity finally came when called upon to help in an encephalitis outbreak on the Japanese island of Shikoku. At the time, Ishibashi was only a relatively junior officer but proved his worth in the events that followed. The disease, which had a mortality rate of seventy per cent, was spreading at an alarming rate. However, Ishibashi and his team were able to identify the transmission vector and put in place epidemic prevention procedures that effectively controlled and eliminated the disease.

For his work, Ishibashi was promoted to colonel and eventually elevated to major general. More importantly, he obtained vital sponsorship and support from the more powerful and influential people in the military and government, people with no scruples about the use of biological warfare, so long as it led to victory.

In the early thirties and after many requests, he eventually got permission to establish the Pingfan facility after the Japanese invasion of Manchuria, now Northern China, and set about carrying out experiments in the most northern and remote parts of the province. These experiments, of course, would, in time, lead to the use of live human subjects.

Throughout his years at Pingfan, he experimented with the more well-known diseases such as plague, typhus, and cholera. He subjected live humans to a wide range of medical experiments in freezing, inflicting gun-shot wounds and introducing infections to evaluate clinical methods for treating war wounds. His facility also researched ways to spread the various contagion behind enemy lines, but a fool-proof method of doing it had eluded him until recently. There had been a series of experiments with high-altitude balloons filled with plague bacteria and released from Japanese-occupied Pacific Islands and carried by the trade winds to the North-Western coast of America. Still, much to his disappointment, it was never known if the balloons had ever reached their destination. Similar balloons filled with high explosives were also released and reported to have caused forest fires in the heavily wooded and lightly populated areas of Washington State. However, with the Japanese retreat from the Pacific Islands, the experiments were discontinued; the bases from which these had been conducted eventually surrendered to Allied Forces.

General Ishibashi, like Major Shiba, had long grown immune to the suffering he inflicted in the pursuit of his research, to a point where he found it difficult to accept that others found it very distasteful or even immoral. Ishibashi may have been the top man at Pingfan, but his authority was of little significance compared to the man sitting opposite him. Prince Tasuda was about the same age as Ishibashi, but he looked some years older. During the war years, he played the role of trouble-shooter and peace-maker between the various factions that made up the Japanese military machine in both the army and navy. His Royal connections ensured obedience and co-operation from all, and as Ishibashi knew all too well, he was the perfect man to have on your side if you needed to cut through the red tape.

Prince Tasuda was one of the few people who knew about the existence of the Pingfan facility. When Ishibashi personally informed him of the new discovery, he immediately made arrangements to check it out personally. Ishibashi motioned Shiba to sit down. After the introductions, Ishibashi picked up a porcelain teapot and poured his guests some tea as he commenced discussions about the new arrivals.

'The maruta have arrived, haven't they?' asked Ishibashi as he casually poured Shiba some tea.

'Yes, they have. All seven of them,' replied Shiba nervously, somewhat ill-at-ease in the prince's presence.

'All in good health, I hope? Not like the last ones that were sent to us,' said Ishibashi with a sigh, recollecting the pathetic sick and starving Allied prisoners that were sent to him some weeks before from Changi. He had ordered these men to be immediately euthanised with a cyanide injection and then cremated after he realised that they were no use to him and perhaps posed a health risk to his staff by their mere presence.

'I made a cursory examination,' said Shiba as he lifted the small porcelain cup and took a sip of tea, 'And they all look fit and healthy to me,' he added firmly.

'I insisted on them sending me airman who had recently been captured,' said Ishibashi as he leant over slightly to Prince Tasuda as if telling him a secret. 'They have to pass more stringent physical requirements before they are allowed to fly and hence they tend to be perfect specimens'.

Shiba suddenly looked up at Ishibashi and then lowered his head uncomfortably as Prince Tasuda nodded in agreement and took another sip of his tea. An orderly appeared, bringing a tray of refreshments and placed it on the table.

'Some more tea,' ordered Ishibashi before the man left with a polite bow.

'When will we know the results of the experiment?' asked Prince Tasuda casually as he looked at what was on the tray. Ishibashi looked at Shiba and raised his eyes.

'Your Highness, the maruta, I mean the prisoners are being prepared now,' stuttered Shiba nervously. ' This will take a few hours because we must make a thorough medical examination of each man before the exposure and after, for it to set in ...'

'Yes, Major,' interrupted the prince impatiently, 'I know all that, but how long until we know its successful on them?' he demanded as he picked up some food from the tray and looked at Shiba with some impatience.

'All up, thirty-six hours, Your Highness,' Shiba answered quickly.

'Very well then,' replied the prince with a deep sigh as he considered the situation. 'I want to be in Tokyo about lunchtime tomorrow to advise the war ministry personally of your discovery and perhaps suggest some possible applications of it to our war effort. But before that, I would appreciate maybe a tour to see the facility for myself. If that is not too much trouble?'

Both Shiba and Ishibashi glanced at each other in surprise and then nodded their reluctant consent. They had not expected such a request.

'But Your Highness, we won't know the results by then!' advised Ishibashi.

'You can inform me by telephone then. I will contact you in due course to let you know the views of the war ministry,' the prince said as he yawned and straightened his back.

Ishibashi nodded his head and lifted his cup of tea before taking another sip and looking around him. It was a beautiful summers morning in Manchuria, with robins singing in the cherry blossom trees that surrounded them in the beautifully maintained traditional Japanese garden.

'I am here to give you whatever assistance you may need, General. Is there anything that you need in particular?' offered the prince after a few moments of silence.

Ishibashi looked at Shiba for any suggestions, as there were none that he could think of off the top of his head.

'Not at the moment, but if we do ...' he said hesitantly as he sat upright.

'Then do not hesitate to contact me,' finished the prince as he looked straight at Ishibashi.

'If this discovery lives up to your expectations, gentlemen, and I hope it does for everyone's sake,' he said sternly, 'we may be able to put an end to this war with a guaranteed victory for Japan. I hope,' said the prince as he wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin.

Sweat appeared on Ishibashi's face. As he looked up at the blue sky, he considered the apocalypse that would follow if the discovery was suddenly released upon the world. It was an unpleasant thought, and he knew that Tasuda and those in the war ministry had no idea what an uncontrolled release would mean—a creation like the Frankenstein monster that could end up destroying its creator. He knew that they were desperate for any weapon that could guarantee them victory, and he had no doubt whatsoever that it would be eventually used against the enemy. He had worked long, hard hours on the project, had lost eighteen members of his staff who were killed, including a close friend, and now that it was all coming to fruition, he was beginning to have doubts, serious doubts about the whole thing. Smiling to himself, he considered the irony of his situation. For years, he had fought to gain recognition for the value of his work. Now, he was frightened, even terrified, of his creation at the very moment of his triumph. While he was wrestling with his conscience, his aide appeared at the door and nodded. The experiment had begun.

* * *

Ironically, at the same time, far away at Alamogordo in the New Mexico Desert, it was late in the afternoon at an atomic test site. Scientists and technicians were busy assembling components near the base of what looked like a metal-framed tower customarily used to carry high voltage electricity cables. At the base, there was a large sphere that was the focus of all the activity. It had snake-like cable-fed probes all around its surface, which made it look like the head of the legendary Medusa. Technicians with all manner of scientific instruments were gently checking the connections while Dr. J. R Oppenheimer, the scientist in charge of the project, looked on in grim silence. Glancing up at the sky with mixed emotions of excitement and dread, he considered all the possible things that could go wrong, including the fact that it may not explode. Or if it did explode, it could set off a chain reaction in all matter, which would see the creation of a giant black hole that would then devour the entire earth in a terrible instant. He had earlier dismissed such suggestions as impossible. Now, his doubts grew as other possible apocalyptic scenarios came to mind as the time for the scheduled experiment drew closer.

'Good morning Doc!' greeted Sergeant Lehr cheerfully, walking past him carrying a container of plutonium in his left hand as if it were a lunch box.

Oppenheimer was jolted out of his thoughts as he watched Lehr, wearing a white T-shirt, walk by and begin to whistle as if going on a picnic.

'Good morning!' he replied with a tone of concern. You be careful with that!' he called out to the sergeant as he walked towards the sphere.

'Yes, Sir!' he shouted back as he momentarily tripped and just regained his balance without falling over.

Oppenheimer shook his head, somewhat annoyed at the sergeant's carelessness. Even though he knew that a truck could run over the container and not so much as put a scratch on it, he couldn't help but be on edge. He walked over towards a technician with a Geiger counter and looked at the display as it slowly crackled, detecting slight radiation.

'Any problems here?' he asked the technician as he checked the readings over the man's shoulder.

'No Sir! So far so good,' he replied cautiously with his attention focused on the task.

Oppenheimer gave him a gentle pat on the back and walked around the sphere with his hands behind his back. He then stopped and checked one of the leads for no real reason and ran his hands over the metal surface as if it were a living thing. Stepping back, he looked at it as if he were about to take a photograph of it. When he thought about the embarrassment that would occur in the event it did not explode, Oppenheimer signed, and a smile appeared on his face.

'Doctor Oppenheimer!' shouted a Corporal some distance away, a radio in his clutches.

'The general wants to talk to you, Sir!'

Oppenheimer waved his hand in acknowledgement and began to walk over. 'I wonder what the hell he wants now,' he grumbled as he looked towards the setting sun casting wonderous multi-coloured shadows over the surrounding desert.

CHAPTER TWO

That war is an evil is something that we all know, and it would be pointless to go on cataloguing all the disadvantages involved in it. No one is forced into war by ignorance, nor, if he thinks he will gain from it, is he kept out of it by fear.

The fact is that one side thinks that the profits to be won outweigh the risks to be incurred, and the other side is ready to face danger rather than accept an immediate loss.

Thucydides – c. 471 – c. 400 BC

As the prince and Ishibashi were drinking tea in the warm Manchurian sunshine, the truck carrying the seven Allied airmen headed towards the infamous ‘Ro’ block complex. A massive six-level building with four levels above ground and two underground, which housed various laboratories and medical facilities. Constructed from brick and concrete, it occupied an area about the size of a city block. With no external windows, the complex looked like a tomb.

Surrounded by barbed wire, the complex had a squad of armed guards patrolling the perimeter in pairs around the clock. The building had something of a grim foreboding about it, and in a way, it was a blessing that the prisoners were blindfolded and could not see it. To enter the’ Ro’ block as a Japanese prisoner meant certain agonising death, for no one had ever escaped from the facility to tell the horrific tale of what was going on there. Allied Intelligence remained blissfully ignorant of the existence of this facility which was well on par with the newly discovered Nazi death camps in Europe and the horrific medical experiments conducted there by SS doctors.

The truck arrived at the first set of heavy wooden gates, which provided the only access to and from the facility. All along the route, Japanese soldiers were devoid of any rank insignia on their uniforms, wearing instead the standard war-time attire worn by civilians back in home Japan. In the unlikely event an enemy reconnaissance flight should detect them, soldiers adorned in this way gave the impression that the facility was nothing more than an innocent factory, similar to the ones back home in Japan, and not a secret research centre controlled by the army. The truck proceeded quickly through the gates, finally arriving at a loading dock and reversing back under the guidance of a soldier until the back was level with the loading bay. Massive roller shutters lowered until they closed, cutting out the daylight and any hope of escape.

An older Japanese man standing on the dock in a white lab coat ordered the rear canopy to be opened and, in softly spoken English, asked the prisoners to come out. The Japanese guards in the back of the truck then assisted the blindfolded and handcuffed men off the truck one at a time onto the loading bay. After the last one alighted from the truck, the group was led further inside of the building.

Shutting and locking the door, the Japanese man in the white coat nodded at the guards, who then immediately removed the prisoners’ blindfolds and handcuffs. The prisoners blinked and looked at each other in surprise and relief. They moved their heads up and down, squinting their eyes to adjust to the light. Some of them rubbed their wrists where the handcuffs had been. Looking around, they could see that they were in a hallway that was devoid of any natural lighting. A strange aromatic sickening smell, similar to a hospital disinfectant, permeated the air, but it was strangely different somehow. Around them were Japanese technicians wearing white lab coats, going about their business as if they were not there. The prisoners were all standing in a line taking in their new surroundings and avoiding eye contact with their captors, with each man wondering where the hell he was. Suddenly, the older Japanese man looked at them and smiled reassuringly.

'I am Doctor Akiyama of the Japanese Army Medical Corps,’ he said in heavily accented English. ‘Each of you will be given a full medical examination for your benefit. It is routine, and it is nothing to worry about, but I would ask for your full co-operation, please.’

Each of the men looked at each other with puzzled expressions on their faces, for it was the last thing they were expecting. The doctor seemed friendly enough, standing there in front of them with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, a slightly indifferent smile on his face. Quite unlike the usual fanatical Japanese, they had encountered so far.

'Is this a prisoner of war camp, Doctor?’ asked the American major politely as he nervously looked at the others while rubbing his wrists. Akiyama looked at him and considered his response.

'Er.... yes, it is!’ he paused, ‘Well sort of! You will be taken to the camp after your medical examination.’ he answered confusingly, the American looking at him with a look of bewilderment.

'Well, Sir, I'm the highest-ranking officer here, and I ... well I was wondering when I can see the ... er ... Base Commander?’ he asked politely, looking at the others.

'He is busy at the moment, but you will definitely see him in due course. For now, you must come with me for your medical examination,’ snapped Akiyama firmly.

The American nodded his head and lowered his eyes from Akiyama, not wishing to provoke him. He, like the others, was all too familiar with the ‘horror’ stories about how the Japanese mistreated their prisoners of war, especially pilots. But so far, most of them had been treated reasonably well by their captors. When he was first captured and blindfolded after being shot down, he had expected the worse; instant beheading with a Samurai sword, but so far, this hadn't happened. Maybe the Japs realised they were beaten and didn't want any reprisals from the victorious Allies when the war was over, he hoped.

'Come this way, please!’ said Akiyama motioning with his hand for the men to follow a group of white-coated Japanese technicians who had just arrived in the room.

The prisoners then followed Akiyama and the technicians down the corridor, accompanied by five Japanese guards wearing sidearms. Along the way, they passed Japanese technicians heading in different directions who would sneak a glance at the men as if they were privy to some secret information about their fate.

The group finally reached the end of a corridor. Waiting for them was another Japanese group, each wearing white lab coats and standing at a doorway entrance. The prisoners were escorted into a large room and photographed holding a chalkboard in front of them bearing their name, rank, and serial number.

'Each of you will be taken to a separate room to be examined individually by me and asked certain questions about your medical history. Just routine!’ announced Akiyama to the group of prisoners as he indicated a row of cubicles along the corridor. ‘Afterwards, you will be escorted to a common room for some refreshments before you are sent to a prisoner of war camp to join your friends,’ he smiled somewhat unconvincingly.

The prisoners were now looking at each other with a look of fear on their faces. They knew something was wrong, very wrong, with this place. Akiyama could feel their rising fear and disbelief despite his attempt at reassurance.

'This is routine. It's nothing to worry about! We must be sure you are not carrying any diseases that could infect the other prisoners,’ replied Akiyama after a short pause. ‘It is nothing to worry about!’ he repeated softly.

His reassurances did not put the prisoners at rest. They all had that gut feeling that something was not quite right with this place and with Akiyama.

Each man was escorted into a small room and ordered to take off his clothes. They all had their heads shaved and were told that this was to prevent them from carrying any lice which could spread typhus. The prisoners were each provided with a white surgical gown to wear. They were showered and returned to the examination room, which looked like a typical doctor's surgery.

Akiyama conducted each examination personally, asking each man about his medical history and any illnesses in his family. An assistant with a clipboard wrote down the answers to Akiyama's questions while a guard standing to attention at the door looked on menacingly to ensure co-operation. All the men were nervous, especially now that they were alone. They could not help but look from time to time at the guard and his holstered pistol. Even though they were only supposed to give their name, rank and serial number when captured by the enemy, the men could not see any harm in answering Akiyama's seemingly harmless questions about whether they had had chickenpox, measles or any significant operations or illnesses.

To complete his thorough examination of each prisoner, Akiyama arranged for a blood sample and x-ray to be taken.

While the prisoners waited in their cubicles, Doctor Akiyama was busy in his office reviewing the results of the examination. There was a knock at the door, and the radiologist walked in carrying the x-rays of the prisoners.

'How did they go?’ asked Akiyama as he looked up with reading glasses perched on his eyes.

'All pretty much in good health, no signs of tuberculosis or pneumonia. Hearts and lungs within normal parameters, but a couple have slight trauma to the ribs,’ replied the radiologist as he carefully flicked through the pages of his report.

'Like fractures?’ enquired Akiyama after he had finished.

'Yes, very slight. All are healing as expected in a healthy body. Probably occurred when they were shot down,’ he remarked as he closed his file. Akiyama thanked him as he placed the file on his desk and left.

Akiyama personally looked at each x-ray and then at his clinical notes from when he had examined each man. He perused the reports of each man, in turn, carefully considering their medical histories until he paused at one man's records, noting that a distinct absence of any reported illness or injury in his life. That man was the Spitfire pilot.

Minutes later, Akiyama quickly left his office and walked over to the cubicle housing the Spitfire pilot. Pushing up the sleeve of the hospital gown the prisoner was wearing, Akiyama stuck a hypodermic needle into his arm and gave him an injection, offering the excuse that it was a vaccine to prevent him from becoming sick. After completing the procedure, Akiyama placed the needle into a tray immediately taken from the room by an assistant.

'Is this it, Doc?’ asked the pilot tiredly but politely as he rubbed his hand over the spot where the needle had gone into his arm.

'Yes, it is!’ answered Akiyama with apparent relief.

The pilot couldn't help but notice that sweat was running down Akiyama's face as he gave him the injection and that his hands were trembling as he replaced the needle into the tray. He became even more concerned when he noticed that Akiyama almost seemed afraid to look at him. Without a word, Akiyama left the room, leaving the pilot under the watchful and silent gaze of a guard.

The whole process for the prisoners took about three hours, and after they were processed, they were conveyed to a large windowless room with a thick steel door. The type usually used for bank vaults, as the only access in and out. The room, which measured twelve metres by six metres, had concrete walls that rose about four metres high, painted white, with the hard concrete floor covered with a creamy coloured lino vinyl. In the centre of the room was a steel table with seven chairs and arranged around the room's perimeter were seven bunks with neatly folded blankets placed there for sleeping. In the far corner was a water fountain and in the opposite corner was a sink next to a steel toilet enclosed by metal and a white cloth screen for privacy. The only light in the room came from a row of lights that ran along the length of the ceiling. These lights were covered with thick glass and had steel mesh around them, which bathed the room in a strange unnatural glow. There was a faint sickly smell of disinfectant in the air leaving the men in no doubt that this was some type of medical facility. There was a dark narrow band at the top right-hand side of the wall just below the ceiling. Unknown to the prisoners, this was one-way glass, and on the other side, Japanese technicians were looking down upon them with a clear and uninterrupted view of everything that was happening in that room.

The American major wandered around the room with his hands behind his back as if on an inspection tour. He paused by the water fountain, pressed the lever, and watched in fascination as a stream of water appeared, but he did not take a drink. He then walked over to a bunk and sat down, pulling out the neatly folded blanket and placing his leather jacket on top of it as if to claim this bed as his own.

The large steel door remained opened, but several armed Japanese guards near the door deterred any thoughts of escape. The prisoners sat around casually, too afraid to speak until the last prisoner to be processed, the Spitfire pilot, was escorted into the room by a Japanese guard who then closed the steel door with a loud metallic clang behind him. As the door was bolted shut, their hearts skipped a beat as they looked around, expecting something terrible to happen. They then heard the heavy booted footsteps of the guards disappear up the corridor until the only sound they could hear was their own heavy breathing. As the minutes passed in tense silence without anything happening, some of the prisoners started to relax. Thinking that they were finally alone, they quietly began to talk about their ordeal. Others remained silent as they sat in chairs or lay down on bunks, staring down at the table, the blank floor or ceiling, keeping their thoughts and fears to themselves.

After he arranged for the pathologists to examine the prisoner's blood, Dr Akiyama drove over to General Ishibashi's office in the administration block. When he arrived, he found Prince Tasuda and General Ishibashi inside the conference room having a traditional Japanese lunch. Major Shiba was not there. He had earlier been excused from attending to make arrangements for the prince's tour. Dressed in his unfamiliar dress uniform, Akiyama bowed to the prince while he remained seated at the table. Ishibashi summoned his colleague to come and join them. Ishibashi introduced Akiyama by his army rank of colonel, explaining that he and Major Shiba were primarily responsible for discovering the Dragon Virus and its successful replication and development at the facility. Prince Tasuda nodded approvingly, watching Akiyama as he sat down.

'How did the examination go?’ asked the prince.

'Very well, Your Highness. All are in perfect health,’ he answered to the apparent relief of Ishibashi.

'When will we have the pathologist report on the blood samples?’ asked Ishibashi, who already knew the answer.

'In about two hours, no more,’ replied Akiyama.

'Excellent. His Highness has expressed his desire to inspect our facility before he returns to Tokyo in the evening. Major Shiba is making the necessary preparations as we speak,’ announced Ishibashi with unusual formality.

'When do you want the maruta exposed, General?’ he added when he realised the need for a strict protocol in the prince's presence.

'We will expose the prisoners at about 1600 hours this afternoon in the presence of His Highness, and then we will take His Highness on a tour of the facility.’

'As you please, General,’ replied Akiyama respectfully, somewhat unused to this level of formality with his friend.

After lunch, the prince was insistent on beginning his inspection of the facility straight away, much to the annoyance of Ishibashi, who had much to do with the arrival of the Anglo-Saxon prisoners. He tried respectfully to persuade the prince to accept either Akiyama or Shiba to be his guides, but the sudden raised eyebrow of the prince put an end to such hopes. They started with an external tour of the entire facility and a pleasant afternoon drive in an open staff car around the perimeter with Ishibashi, Akiyama and Shiba taking turns answering the prince's queries.

'I notice that no one else, except yourselves, wears any rank insignia on their uniforms. Why is that?’ asked the prince predictably, saluting a group of soldiers bowing at the side of the road as the car flashed by.

'To maintain secrecy at all times, Your Highness,’ was Ishibashi's frank reply as the vehicle then turned onto a dirt road. ‘In this facility, we pretty much know each other and our ranks. So, we find it is not necessary to display them. However, the real reason is that we have military personnel from both the army and navy who visit here for various reasons from time to time to deliver supplies and build things. If any of them are subsequently captured and tortured by the enemy, there is very little they could reveal in the way of importance about this facility or the work carried out here. If it became known to the enemy that high ranking scientists from the Army Medical Corps were here, the nature of our work could be inferred. So far, we have not had a single security scare,’ he said proudly. ‘I do not even have a flag anywhere on this base, so it cannot be mistaken for a military establishment,’ Ishibashi continued over the sounds of the wheels rolling over the loose gravel of the road.

'That makes good sense, I suppose,’ said the prince hesitantly with his voice trailing off.

'But what is that rotten smell?’ he asked, sniffing the air with distaste.

'Oh, that comes from our bacteria processing plant, Your Highness,’ said Ishibashi as he pointed over to a red two-story brick building in the distance that had steel pipes entering and leaving at various points and a large chimney far end of the building. ‘It is a by-product of our recycling process for the gelatin base we use to grow plague bacteria. It's completely harmless apart from being a little offensive in smell.’

The prince mumbled and looked around. Eventually, they came onto a bitumen road and travelled towards the administration and recreation blocks.

'I must commend you on your lovely gardens which you have in this facility General,’ said the prince as he looked around and admired the trees and hedges and the occasional garden as they zoomed by.

'Thank you, Your Highness. I have four professional gardeners who look after all the gardens full-time. Apart from decorative considerations, it also serves an essential purpose as a biological indicator should there be any accidental release of pathogens, like the use of canaries in the coal mines. You see, some of these plants are very sensitive to certain dangerous bacteria. If a particular species of plant should die, that could mean a leak somewhere in the facility. I have ordered the gardeners to report any unexplained deaths of the plants immediately,’ he said clinically to the prince who looked at him warily.

'Have you ever had any accidental leaks, General?’ queried the prince as he stared at him.

General Ishibashi paused as he considered his answer, looking ahead at the road before him. Both Shiba and Akiyama, who were in the front seat, looked at each other through the corner of their eyes but remained silent.

'Nothing of any major consequence!’ he replied, as Shiba shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

There was a pause for a few minutes.

'It must be very hazardous to work with these deadly diseases every day, General, and I must say that I admire the courage in your men for doing so,’ complimented the Prince with a hint of sincerity.

Ishibashi felt a sense of pride upon hearing the compliment, a smile appearing on his face as he looked away from the prince.

'It is Your Highness, and of course, no matter how careful you are, there is always a risk that you might fall victim to a disease you work with …’

'What precautions do you take, Ishibashi?’ interrupted the prince.

'I have had all my staff given regular medical examinations and inoculated against many of the diseases we work with. Unfortunately, with some of the diseases, there is no cure or vaccine. If they are exposed, they are placed in isolation, where if they do not recover, they die!’ said Ishibashi sternly as he finished the sentence without looking up.

The prince grunted indifferently. ‘Has there been any enemy activity around here,’ he queried, changing the subject.

'No, apart from the odd reconnaissance flights at night in the general area, which we are pretty sure are the Soviets anyway. It's very tranquil here and very remote. It's almost hard to believe that there is a war on,’ he added carelessly.

'Believe me, there is! Are you married, General?’ asked the prince as he suddenly changed the topic of conversation again.

'Yes, I am,’ he replied in surprise as he looked at the prince.

'Any children?’ he asked as he placed his elbow on the edge of the door.

'Yes, Your Highness. A boy and a girl,’ he answered cautiously, somewhat uneasy at the sudden interest displayed in his family.

'Are they in Japan? Or are they ... here?’ asked the prince as he looked around.

'No, they live in a village west of Tokyo with my family,’ he replied.

The prince nodded his head, taking in the information while Ishibashi wondered why he wanted to know.

'Are they safe there?’ whispered the prince as he leant over to Ishibashi. ‘I mean