THE LAST LIEUTENANT: A Todd Ingram Novel (The Todd Ingram Series Book 1) Read online

  Also by John J. Gobbell:

  The Todd Ingram series:

  The Last Lieutenant

  A Code For Tomorrow

  When Duty Whispers Low

  The Neptune Strategy

  Edge of Valor

  * * * * *

  A Call To Colors –

  A Novel of the Battle of Leyte Gulf

  The Brutus lie

  THE LAST LIEUTENANT

  A TODD INGRAM NOVEL

  BY

  JOHN J. GOBBELL

  Gordon W. Prange, Miracle at Midway, 1982, McGraw-Hill, Inc., Chapter 44, Japanese Order of Battle, used with permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © January 2010 by John J. Gobbell

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author: John J. Gobbell. ([email protected])

  StarboardSide Productions

  ISBN: 978-0-9839138-2-5

  Originally Published in hardcover by St. Martin’s Press 1995, Library of Congress Catalogue 95-15831, ISBN 0-312-13108-9 and softcover by St. Martin’s Press, 1997,ISBN 0-312-95838-2

  THE LAST LIEUTENANT

  BY

  JOHN J. GOBBELL

  Sleep my sons, your duty done

  For Freedom’s light has come.

  Sleep in the silent depths of the sea

  Or in your bed of hallowed sod

  Until you hear at dawn the low,

  Clear reveille of God.

  Monument on Corregidor Island

  Manila Bay, Philippine Islands

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  AMERICANS -- U.S. NAVY, ABOARD MINESWEEPER USS PELICAN (AM 49), MANILA BAY

  Alton C. Ingram, Lieutenant. “Todd,” Commanding Officer

  Frederick J. Holloway, Lt. (jg), Operations Officer.

  Oliver P. Toliver, III, Lt. (jg) “Ollie,” Gunnery Officer.

  Bartholomew, Leonard (n), Chief Machinists Mate, “Rocky,” Chief Engineer.

  Farwell, Luther A., Quartermaster Second Class, Top helmsman.

  Hampton, Joshua P., Electronics Technician 1st Class, Crew

  Whittaker, Peter L., Engineman 3rd Class, Crew

  Forester, Kevin T. Quartermaster 3rd Class, Crew

  Forester, Brian I., Quartermaster Striker, Crew

  Yardly, Ronald R., Pharmacist's Mate Second Class “Bonesm” Crew.

  Sunderland, Kermit G. Gunner's Mate 1st Class, Crew.

  AMERICANS -- CORREGIDOR ISLAND GARRISON (FORT MILLS), MANILA BAY, PHILIPPINES

  Helen Z. Durand, First Lieutenant, U.S. Army, Nurse

  Otis (n) DeWitt, Major, USA, Garrison Adjutant

  Dwight G. Epperson, LT. USN, Commander, Naval Radio intercept Tunnel at Monkey

  Point; Station CAST

  Radtke, Walter, Cryptographer Technician, 2nd Class, USN, Monkey PointB Abwehr Military Intelligence see GERMANS.

  Leon V. Beardsley, 1st Lieutenant, USAAF, B-17 pilot.

  Carl R. Mordkin, Captain, USA Stockade Commander.

  George F. Moore, Major General, USA, Garrison Commander, Corregidor Island (Fort Mills)

  Jonathan M. Wainwright, Major General, USA”Skinny," Commander US Forces, Philippines.

  Gordon F. Plummer . Captain, USA, Commander, Battery Craighill, Fort Hughes, (Caballo Island).

  La Follette, Bruno (n), Sergeant, USA. Mortar Fire Controlman, Fort Hughes (Caballo Island)

  AMERICANS - U. S. NAVY, HAWAII

  Chester W. Nimitz, Admiral, USN. Commander in Chief Pacific Fleet and Pacific Ocean Areas (CinCPOA).

  Robert H. English, Rear Admiral, USN. Commander Submarine Forces, Pacific.

  Elphege Alfred M. Gendreau, Captain, USN, Pacific Fleet Surgeon; Nimitz' housemate.

  Milo F. Draemel. Rear Admiral, USN, Nimitz' Chief of Staff and housemate.

  Edwin T. Layton, Lieutenant Commander, USN, Nimitz' Fleet Intelligence Officer.

  Joseph J. Rochefort, Commander, USN, Commander station HYPO; OP-20-G, Naval Intelligence Unit.

  AMERICANS -- U.S. NAVY, ABOARD SUBMARINE U.S.S. WOLFFISH (SS 204)

  Roland M. Galloway, Lieutenant Commander, USN, Commanding Officer.

  Gordon E. Chance, Lieutenant, USN, Executive Officer.

  Morton A. Sampson, Lieutenant, USN, Operations Officer.

  Raleigh T. Sutcliff, Lieutenant, USN, Engineering Officer.

  Wallace Gruber, Ensign, USN, Torpedo Officer.

  Hall, Ernest, Radioman Chief, Chief Radioman.

  Lorca, Dominic Federico Radioman 2nd Class, Top radioman.

  FILIPINOS

  Don Pablo Amador, Philippine Deputy Finance, Minister, sawmill owner and lumber baron, Nasipit, Mindanao.

  Manuel Carillo, Runs Amador’s lumber mill.

  Rosarita Carillo, Carrillo’s wife.

  Don Fito Diaz, Fishing Fleet Owner - Northern Marinduque Island.

  Doña Valentina Diaz, Wife of Don Fito Diaz.

  Don Emilio Aguilar, Marinduque Island plantation owner.

  Doña Carmella Aguilar, Aguilar's wife.

  Augustine Vega, Aguilar’s foreman.

  Luis Guzman & Carlos Ramirez, Ex-Filipino scouts working for Amador.

  GERMANS

  Helmut öttmer, Kapitänleutnant Kreigsmarine, Abwehr--military intelligence, Posing as Cryptographer, Technician Second Class Walter Radtke, Corregidor Island; code named HECKLE.

  Kurt Döttmer. Helmut's Father.

  Elsa Döttmer, Helmut's Mother.

  Wilhelm Canaris, Admiral, Kreigsmarine, Head of the AbwehrCmilitary intelligence, code named BESSON.

  Hans Oster, Colonel, Canaris' Chief Assistant.

  Karl Dönitz, Admiral, Kreigsmarine, Germany's Chief Flag Officer of U-boats with the title of Befehlshaber der U-boote (BdU).

  JAPANESE

  Kiyoshi Tuga, Lieutenant, Commander Kempetai (Thought Police) garrison, Northern Marinduque, later Nasipit, Mindanao.

  Akihiko Watanabe, Lieutenant Tuga's Kempetai second-in-command on Marinduque.

  Isoroku Yamamoto, Admiral, “Rengo Kantai” Commander in Chief Imperial Japanese Navy Combined Fleet.

  Kawai Chiyoko, Umeryu (Plum-Dragon), Yamamoto's mistress.

  FOREWORD

  Imperial Japan expanded her conquests at a dizzying rate beginning with the Pacific war’s outbreak in December, 1941. By mid-1942, she controlled an area equal to one-seventh of planet Earth. To support a voracious war-machine, she desperately needed raw materials to the south, namely the Dutch East Indies and New Guinea (now Indonesia), French –Indo China (Viet Nam, Thailand, Cambodia, Myanmar), and the Philippines.

  But one of these objectives lay beyond her grasp: Manila Bay on Luzon’s west coast in the Philippines. Manila Bay is an enormous natural harbor; so large, that it could easily have anchored all ships in the world at that time.

  Four US Army fortified islands stood at the entrance to Manila Bay: Corregidor Island – Fort Mills; El Fraile Island – Fort Drum; Caballo Island – Fort Hughes; and Carabao Island – Fort Frank. The Bataan Peninsula forms the northern part of the entrance to Manila Bay. Tragically, it became known for the Bataan Death March after the Fil-American forces surrendered it to the Japanese in April, 1942.

  The final hold-out in Luzon became the
three mile-long, tad-pole shaped Corregidor Island. This was the largest and most heavily fortified island that guarded the entrance to Manila harbor; a harbor desperately needed by Japan so she could fulfill the strategic objectives of her so-called Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.

  But Corregidor held out, the 5,000 man garrison swelling to 11,000 after the fall of Bataan. After a sustained round-the-clock artillery barrage, Corregidor fell on May 6, 1942 to a Japanese night time amphibious assault. To stop the hideous slaughter of wounded and civilians, Major General Jonathan M. Wainwright surrendered to General Masaharu Homma, commander of the Imperial Japanese 14th Army. But Homma refused to cease fire on Corregidor. He continued his attacks on the surrendered troops demanding that Wainwright give up all forces in the Philippines. With great reluctance, Wainwright did so, resulting in the capitulation of well over 120,000 Fill American forces in the Central and Southern Philippines. Overall, 135,000 allied troops fell to the Japanese in that campaign; the worst defeat in American history.

  But some got out including the late John H. Morrill, II rear admiral, USN, -- then a lieutenant commander. With sixteen men off his sunken minesweeper Quail, Lieutenant Commander Morrill escaped Corregidor the night it was surrendered to the Japanese. He navigated to Darwin Australia and freedom through 1,900 miles of enemy-controlled waters, much of it under the cover of night -- a heroic voyage by any measure. Morrill wrote about this in his book, South From Corregidor, Simon & Schuster, 1943. Thus Todd Ingram’s voyage through the Philippine Archipelago loosely approximates that of Lieutenant Commander Morrill.

  * * * * *

  This novel, about the Japanese siege of Corregidor, is the first novel in the Todd Ingram series. All are stand-alone works featuring Ingram. Chronologically, the next work in the series is: A Code For Tomorrow: a novel of the naval battles of the Solomon Islands. After that is When Duty Whispers Low, a work about the shoot-down of Japanese naval CinC Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto. And finally, the most recent work is The Neptune Strategy: Todd Ingram is captured by a Japanese long-range submarine. Another Todd Ingram novel is underway; working title is EDGE OF VALOR.

  An embarrassment of riches flowed during my research for The Last Lieutenant, particularly in the following categories: Historical and submarine nomenclature; the late Alvin P. Cluster, Vice Admiral Patrick J. Hannifin (retired), Hank Maclean, the late Rear Admiral John H. Morrill, II (retired), Lieutenant John W. Nelson, USN; Medical; Drs. Joseph N. Lambert, M.D., Russell J. Striff, M.D., and Kenneth J. Wegner, M.D; B-17 nomenclature; Robert Armstrong, Richard Bertea and David Tallechet; Radio Procedures; the late Hal Rosenberg and Linde Williams; Music; Drs. Richard Berkmeir and William B. Roberts. Elsewhere, I benefitted from the help of the Los Angeles Consulate of the Republic of the Philippines, and Orange County Fictionaires. And fortunately, we are served by library systems with incredible capabilities. The Doheny Library at the University of Southern California -- thanks go to Tyson Reyes -- and the Newport Beach Main Library are solid examples and were extremely helpful, more than fulfilling my research expectations.

  Every attempt has been made to conform to events of the time and all settings are actual except for the Japanese garrison on Marinduque. Any inaccuracies herein are attributed solely to me

  Discovered during this process was the full meaning of "What are friends for?" Thus, unending thanks go to Richard M. Geiler, Larry T. Smith, and Dr. Russell J. Striff, M.D., friends for a long, long time who truly fulfill the essence of that phrase.

  Last, don’t hesitate to visit my website at www.JohnJGobbell.com . Simply find your book on the main page and click on it to find book reviews, photos of actual locations, equipment, people, and charts portrayed in each of these works. And please contact me at [email protected] with comments and critique.

  Most of all, thanks to my wife, Janine; friend, companion, lover and copy editor extraordinaire; the best ever. They really broke the mold...

  John J. Gobbell

  Newport Beach, California

  September 2014

  www.JohnJGobbell.com

  PROLOGUE

  Among other evils which being unarmed

  brings you, it causes you to be despised.

  The Prince

  Niccolo Machiavelli

  PROLOGUE

  16 June, 1941

  Union Station

  El Paso, Texas

  The killer's code name was HECKLE. He looped his garrote around the sailor's neck and yanked. The sailor straightened to his tiptoes, then jounced while grabbing futilely at the cord crushing his windpipe. His hat tumbled into the restroom sink.

  In the mirror, the killer watched his victim's eyes bulge in disbelief. He renewed his purchase and pulled the garrote tighter. With what air was left, the sailor gurgled pathetically and sunk to his knees.

  Thirty seconds will do it.

  But, there it was again. From the cantina, a block to the west of the station drifted a haunting trumpet solo. The sailor's writhing grew weaker. The melody was locked in the killer's mind, making it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

  The sailor wrenched to his side, pulling the killer off balance. The garrote loosened and the sailor sucked a prolonged sobbing breath. Avoiding his victim’s grappling hands; the killer held on, took one step back and pushed open a toilet-stall door with his right elbow. While jabbing his right knee in the sailor's back, he pulled the garrote tighter.

  The sailor fell face-first onto the cold, tile floor while the killer dragged him into the stall. The killer stumbled against the commode then slipped in a urine puddle, once again losing his hold. The sailor's feet jinked and pounded on the tile as he pushed his left hand on the floor, loosening the garrote further. As he drew another gurgling lungful of air, he slumped back onto his stomach.

  This is going badly.

  The killer moved precisely dropping his right knee into the sailor's back, and putting all his weight on the sailor's spine. With clenched teeth, the killer pulled the garrote again and, this time, counted to 120. Slowly.

  The tinny music once again drifted into the rest room from the cantina. HECKLE cocked his head as the trumpeter finished his solo. The musician was talented and put his soul into what he played. HECKLE could tell by the trumpeter's breathing. When the other instruments joined in, HECKLE could still pick out the solo trumpeter. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize what the man looked like.

  The body twitched. The killer leaned over, finding the sailor's eyes shut and his face blue. He thumbed an eyelid: The pupil was completely dilated. Checking the carotid artery he found no pulse. This sailor would give no more trouble; he was dead. Surprised he was winded, the killer sat on the toilet and forced himself to take a brief rest.

  A long way to go...take your time.

  He looked out the high, half open transom window seeing brilliant stars tin the moonless Texas night.

  It must be the heat.

  It had been 106 degrees yesterday when he had crossed the border and, even at this hour, it was stifling. He ran the back of his hand over his brow and listened while catching his breath. The little band played another song, but that same melody floated in HECKLE's mind.

  What the hell was that song? The melody was victorious yet...at the same time, oppressed. How could that be?

  He listened for another moment, then checked his watch: 0317. Two minutes behind schedule.

  Only nine minutes before the train pulls out.

  The killer gave a quick whistle and his lookout stepped inside the restroom, wearing an Army MP uniform. He was thin and mousey and had a long pointed nose. Giving the corpse a sour look, his large beak wiggled as he sniffed. "Gott!"

  The killer took in the odor and realized the sailor had soiled himself during his last throes. With a scowl the lookout quickly changed his clothes. He put on a pair of overalls and stuffed the MP uniform in a paper bag. While wiping sweat from his bald head, he jammed on a straw hat and moved toward the door.

  The killer loo
ked up with his brow raised.

  The lookout responded, "Car four three six one, seat fourteen A. The duffle is there. Hurry." The door closed and the lookout resumed his vigil outside the men's room, this time as a civilian.

  The killer expelled a huge sigh. Without that duffle the operation would have been almost impossible. The sailor's uniforms, orders, and personal gear were all there.

  Nice going. How did that little turd find the duffle so quickly? No, forget him. With that nose the man can find anything.

  Hurry.

  He pulled off his mufti, revealing a dress white uniform identical to his victim's and, taking everything from the sailor's pocket, stuffed it into his own. The wallet seemed unusually thick and he flipped it open, finding singles, fives, tens, and twenties; close to five hundred dollars.

  Strange.

  A quick look at the United States Navy identification card verified he'd killed the right man. A mournful wail drifted through the transom window. HECKLE cocked his head and analyzed the beautifully pitched chord. E-minor? Or was it A-minor? He couldn't tell as the whistle blew again, nearer this time. At first the floor tingled, then shook mightily as, moments later, an eastbound freight thundered past.

  The lookout peeked in; they nodded, and together pulled the sailor to his feet with an arm draped around each of their shoulders. Walking past the washbasin, the killer stopped, tightened the faucet, and retrieved the sailor's white hat. He jammed it on the man's head with the edge resting on the bridge of his nose.

  An Army sergeant blasted, in unzipping his fly. He looked at them with a bleary-eyed grin and yelled something. But the chuffing of two steam engines pushing the same eastbound train, obliterated conversation.

  The sergeant stood weaving and studied them, making the killer feel so self-conscious that he casually tucked his left hand in his back pocket. The sergeant nodded to the dead sailor and mouthed against the roar, "he okay?" He squinted and braced a hand against the wall blocking their path.