The Japanese officer looked as if he might burst with pride.

As Yamamoto reread another section of their paper, he murmured, “I was sorry to hear about Herr Steckel, Major Brasch.”

“I sent my condolences.”

“Sometimes they are all we have,” Yamamoto said, letting the paper fall to his desktop. “And I agree with your recommendations, Commander Hidaka. I could have written them myself. They are bold and will meet much resistance, but I do not see any other way out of the trap we have constructed for ourselves.”

Hidaka nearly levitated at the praise, but Brasch punctured his brief cheer.

“You could surrender.”

“It is lucky for you that Herr Steckel is no longer with us,” Hidaka sputtered. “I understand that defeatism is a capital crime in the Reich.”

Brasch, as was his way, refused to rise to the provocation. He smiled in his slow, dreamy fashion, folding his arms as if discussing a football match in a beer garden.

“There are so many ways to die in the Reich, my friend. What does it matter how one departs this life?”

Hidaka, who had grown even more exasperated with the German’s morose fatalism these last days, could stand it no longer. His temper launched him to his feet.

“The manner of one’s death is the most important thing in life,” he gasped. “I would not expect an ordinary gaijin to understand, but you are supposed to be the vaunted warrior of a warrior’s race. Instead you speak like the most ignorant barbarian. It is as if you do not care who wins this war.”

“I care very much,” said Brasch.

“Then you should behave as if that were true.”

Yamamoto watched the exchange without any visible sign of concern, but he intervened as Hidaka’s irritation threatened to get the better of him.

“You forget yourself, Commander,” he said sharply. “Resume your seat. A true samurai does not succumb to rage, like some wild dog. Even in the heat of battle, he is tranquil. His own death means nothing to him. Perhaps it is you who has something to learn from Major Brasch.”

Brasch had the luxury of snorting at the proposition, while Hidaka was forced to choke on his own pride. Stiffly lowering his head, he first apologized to Yamamoto and then to the engineer for his outburst.

The admiral stretched and stood, motioning for the others to remain in their seats. He stepped out from behind his desk and paced the room with his hands clasped behind his back, his chin resting on his chest. Shaking his head and pursing his lips, he was the very picture of a man caught in an unbearable dilemma.