1942

CHAPTER 7

Oahu is approximately forty miles long and twenty-six miles wide. Honolulu and Pearl Harbor are about a third of the way up the length of the island, which meant that they were about an hour’s drive up the one road that led from both sites to Haleiwa, the probable landing place for the Japanese army.

“Take a look at it,” Colonel Collins had ordered. “Give me an idea whether we can hold at that point and how long it’ll take to reinforce the place if the Japs come.”

“When they come,” Jake had corrected, and Collins had agreed. How could there be any doubt? he wondered, The Japs had reworked the small airfields on Molokai in record time and now had planes over Oahu almost every minute of the day. Along with attacking fixed positions, the Japanese fighters and bombers struck at targets of opportunity, and that included anything that moved on the road to Haleiwa. The navy was now almost totally gone, and that included the Pennsylvania. This meant that the only targets were army ones. A handful of planes remained, but few were fighters. The survivors were scout planes, and PBY flying boats, and were dispersed and hidden.

Jake declined a staff car, choosing a motorcycle instead. He believed that the motorcycle would be less likely to attract attention from the Japanese than a staff car, and it could go cross-country where the road had been bombed.

Even with the advantage of mobility, the drive took four hours instead of one. There were several times when Jake had to hide the motorcycle behind a tree while Japanese planes flew low overhead in a manner reminiscent of their attack on Hickam the preceding December.

Schofield Barracks was the midpoint of his journey, and he arrived during another raid, which delayed him further. This time a Jap fighter got too close, and he cheered lustily when it was blown from the sky by American antiaircraft guns.

When he left, however, several buildings were burning, and one of the guns that had destroyed the Zero had been strafed, its crew shot to a bloody pulp.

Compared with the ride to Schofield, the short haul to Haleiwa was fairly easy, and he made it to the American coastal defenses without further incident.

Jake was not impressed by what he saw. Just under four thousand men had been allocated a front about six miles wide. The defenses were anchored on the northern ends of the Koolau and Waianae mountain ranges. These peaks ran on either side of the island, and in the fertile valley between them was the road from Haleiwa to Schofield to Pearl Harbor. The mountains were more sharp hills and knifelike ridges, and the valley gradually widened until it was twenty miles across at Pearl Harbor.

Trenches had been dug and pillboxes constructed out of sandbags, but where were the mountains of barbed wire that would stop enemy infantry, and where were the big guns that would pound Japanese warships? The largest artillery pieces Jake saw were several batteries of 155 mm howitzers, and they weren’t well dug in or protected against counterfire from Japanese warships.

Jake knew several of the officers and asked for their assessment. He was told that, because of the Japanese air attacks interdicting the road from Schofield to Hickam, the brass were now reconsidering their earlier assumptions regarding a landing at Haleiwa. Some were convinced that the Jap presence on Molokai meant a Japanese attack would be against the southern portion of the island, at a place such as Barbers Point or Kaneohe Bay. Thus, that was where most of the construction of defenses was taking place.

Jake had heard this, of course, and asked for their opinions. Almost to a man they felt that the attack would be at Haleiwa, despite what the higher-ups thought. One lanky captain from Arkansas put it succinctly: “This beach is the asshole of the world, and when this is over we’ll have been shat on.”

Jake rose to the joke. “Shat?”

“Past tense of shit, Jake. Look it up.”

Collins had told Jake to try to contact him from Haleiwa. Incredibly, the telephone lines were functioning normally, and he got through easily.

The colonel heard a brief commentary that would have meant nothing to someone listening in, but contained words that they’d agreed on to convey Jake’s impressions.

Jake heard his superior sigh deeply across the phone. “Get back as soon as you can, buddy. We’ve got other problems.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, people are picking up distress signals in the clear, so this is no secret. Looks like the Pennsylvania’s in big trouble.”

Problems had come early for the Pennsylvania. She’d managed to exit the harbor and, along with her four escorts, had safely rounded the northern portion of Oahu and headed eastward.

But, by midmorning of the next day, a Japanese plane was seen in the distance. There was no way the plane could have missed them, and this was confirmed when the Jap moved in closer and circled the small force, always staying just out of range.

Jamie and his companions could only hope that they’d put enough distance between themselves and the Japanese fleet covering Molokai to make a long stern chase toward California too difficult to attempt. Just about everyone felt that any threat would come from the air, and not from Japanese surface ships.

Jamie was not totally comfortable with that theory, as the venerable Pennsylvania-she’d been launched in 1916-was able to do only sixteen knots and not her normal rated speed of twenty-one. This meant Japanese destroyers could do twice her speed and close rapidly to get into torpedo range. It also meant that Japanese planes could arrive at any time.

Only a few moments later, a dozen Japanese dive-bombers and torpedo planes appeared in the sky to the west. The destroyers maneuvered to form a square with the lumbering Pennsylvania in the center. All five ships sent streams of antiaircraft fire into the approaching planes. Several were hit and fell in flames, but the others pressed on, with the blocking force of destroyers bearing the brunt of their wrath. One destroyer was hit by a bomb that blew away its forward turret and left it burning and almost dead in the water. A second was broken in half by a torpedo and sank in only a couple of minutes.

One Val dive-bomber got through and dropped an eight-hundred-pound bomb on the battleship’s already damaged bow. The Pennsylvania shuddered and plowed on. The Val was not as fortunate. It was blown out of the sky as it attempted to fly away.

Bombs and torpedoes expended, the remaining Japanese planes departed. It had cost them a mere five planes to sink one destroyer, badly cripple another, and they’d done additional damage to the Pennsylvania.

The burning destroyer could not keep up with the three other ships and remained back to look for survivors from the sunken one. None of the other ships would be able to stop. To delay was to allow the gap between them and Japanese surface ships that must be on their way to close further.

The rescue effort was doomed. Even though the fires seemed under control, the damaged destroyer would soon be sunk and was just delaying the inevitable.

This was borne out when several Japanese destroyers were sighted in the distance. The two remaining American destroyers promptly steamed after them to do battle. It was a mistake. Almost before they were away, one of the destroyers exploded, lifting out of the water before she settled back and disappeared. She was quickly followed by the second, and word went down that they’d been sunk by torpedoes.

“Can’t be,” Jamie said in dismay to the men of his ad hoc damage control party as they waited on the deck. The range was just too great, and the explosion was too big for torpedoes. “What the hell do the Japs have?”

Moments later, the Pennsylvania shuddered, and a massive plume of dirty water lifted alongside her hull. The impact knocked Jamie to the deck.

“Tell me that wasn’t a torpedo, Lieutenant,” said Seaman Fiorini, one of the men in the party.

Before Jamie could answer, the big guns on the rear turret began a thunderous long-range duel with the rapidly closing Japanese destroyers. The Pennsylvania was alone now, and had to keep the enemy destroyers as far away as possible.

The Pennsylvania’s gunners were both lucky and good. One fourteen-inch shell hit a Japanese destroyer, which exploded and disappeared. This caused the remaining three to pull farther out of range, although they continued to shadow the American ship.

Two hours later a floatplane was sighted on the horizon, and everyone on the Pennsylvania knew that the Jap battle fleet had sighted her. There would be no escape to California. Jamie was further disconcerted to realize that the Japanese were approaching from the north and not from the west. He realized there had to have been two Japanese task forces, and they had blundered into range of the second one.

Shortly after they were sighted, shells began to rain down on the Pennsylvania. At extreme range, none hit, but the splashes were greater than anything they’d seen before.

“Sixteen-inchers,” Fiorini said. “Maybe larger. Probably eighteens.”

Jamie laughed. “Ain’t nothing bigger than sixteen-inchers, and I don’t think the Japs have any of those. Besides, who made you an authority on big guns?”

Others in the party laughed nervously. Fiorini had been in the paymaster’s office and helped run the battleship’s newspaper. Fiorini was not deterred. “Sixteens at least,” he said, and the others hooted. It was good to be distracted, if only for a moment.

The Pennsylvania was struck by a pair of shells, and she shook like she was in an earthquake. Jamie was again knocked to his knees and, when he got up, saw flames and dark smoke pouring from the gaping ruin that had been her bridge. He wondered if Captain Cooke was still commanding the battleship. Then he wondered if anyone was.

The Pennsylvania was well within range of the Japanese guns that were still below the horizon, and she began to absorb additional punishment. At first Jamie and his crew tried to make emergency repairs, but it quickly became apparent that the Pennsylvania was doomed and that life above decks was a red-hot hell of raining shell fragments and flying debris.

Bloodily dismembered bodies were piled about, and wounded, many horribly mangled, lay screaming where they fell. Some of the unhurt ran around in confusion and blind terror, interfering with those who were trying to do their duty and fight the ship. Walking was difficult because of the blood that ran down the decks, and several of Jamie’s group were hit by debris and body parts. One sailor was swept overboard by a metal fragment, while another was killed when a human arm was driven through his chest like a spear.

Jamie took the survivors belowdecks, where they were shielded from the deadly rain. Anyone not in a turret or protected by the ship’s armor was going to die and very quickly. The battleship was fighting back, as the sound of her guns attested, but it seemed that the rate of fire was diminishing as the Japanese shells found their targets.

In the midst of the horror, Fiorini grabbed his arm. “Come with me, Lieutenant. You gotta see this.”

Jamie followed Fiorini down another couple of decks. The electricity was flickering, and Jamie was afraid he would be trapped in the dark bowels of a sinking ship, like the men in the Oklahoma, and the fear almost paralyzed him.

Fiorini read his thoughts. “Just through here, sir. Remember the hit that didn’t explode?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said nervously. It had happened a few moments earlier, when a shell slammed into the ship only a few dozen feet from them and they all thought they were dead. While they’d gasped in relief, Fiorini had disappeared for a moment.

Finally, Fiorini paused. “Look at her, but don’t touch. She’s still hot and may go off.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Embedded in the decking was a monstrous shell. Its head was buried and out of sight, but the base was fully visible. Jamie was a gunnery officer, and it was larger than anything he had ever seen.

“Hold this,” Fiorini said, handing him a tape measure. Jamie complied and measured the shell’s diameter. Eighteen inches! It was incredible; no, impossible. The Japs were firing eighteen-inch shells against them. He’d been told that nobody had eighteen-inchers, but he was staring at one.

Fiorini pulled a small camera from his work bag and took several flash pictures while Jamie held the tape. Jamie was about to comment on the camera when he recalled Fiorini’s work on the ship’s paper.

“These could be important,” Fiorini said, and Jamie agreed.

“But first we got to get them out of here.”

Somebody hollered that the ship was sinking, and they returned to the fury of the outside world as another Japanese salvo pounded them. By this time, the deck was only a few feet above the water, and the ship was tilted several degrees to starboard. Sailors were leaving the stricken vessel and were able to do so almost by stepping into the water.

“Who gave the order to abandon ship?” Jamie asked.

“No one,” came the reply. There was no one left to give the command. The venerable old Pennsylvania was defenseless, out of control, and sinking. The remaining turrets had been smashed, and the flame-charred guns were pointed in odd directions. Worse, it appeared that the ship was turning slowly in the direction of the Japanese, the tops of whose ships were now clearly visible as they emerged on the horizon. Jamie counted two battleships and then a third, and the third was a monster. He knew where the eighteen-inch shells had come from.

Jamie, Fiorini, and scores of others stepped from the deck into the water. They swam toward floating debris while the doomed battleship moved slowly past them with stately dignity as shells continued to rain down, killing many of the men in the water. Jamie thanked the facts that he had his life jacket on and that he was an excellent swimmer.

When he reached the debris, he gathered several dozen survivors and lashed debris together to form a raft. While they worked, the Pennsylvania continued to absorb punishment as she turned slowly away from the men floating in the water. Either someone was making a heroic charge at the enemy or the ship’s rudder was stuck. Jamie thought it was the rudder. He didn’t think anyone was in control of the battleship. Looking at the now burning hulk, he doubted that anyone was even alive, much less guiding the vessel.

Jamie watched as the uneven struggle ended. Fiorini continued to take pictures, and Jamie wondered how he’d kept his camera dry.

“Rubber pouch” was the answer. Fiorini then unloaded the film and put it in the pouch. The camera he tossed into the ocean. “No more film.”

Moments later the Pennsylvania sank by the bow with the giant Japanese battleship virtually alongside her. When it was over, the Japanese ships began to pick up American survivors. Jamie’s party was a couple of miles away by this time, but they had no hopes of going undetected.

“We’re gonna be prisoners?” Fiorini asked. “I think I’d rather stay in the water and take my chances with the sharks.”

Jamie had heard how the Japs treated their prisoners and prayed he’d survive the ordeal.

“They’re leaving,” someone yelled. It was true. The Jap ships were all turning away at high speed and leaving them in the water. When they were several miles away, the giant battleship must have spotted their group and opened fire with its smaller-caliber secondary batteries. That their target was tiny kept the survivors from being directly hit, but the splashes and concussion knocked them all off their improvised rafts and into the water.

Jamie pulled himself back onto some debris. Fiorini bobbed up beside him and handed him the camera pouch. Jamie took it and was about to pull Fiorini out of the water when another shell landed nearby, covering him with spray and nearly knocking him back into the ocean. Fiorini’s face registered surprise and went slack. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he disappeared into the ocean. The concussion from the shell had created a surge of water pressure that had squashed the life out of him and somehow spared Jamie.

The firing ceased. The Japanese were almost out of sight and over the horizon. Jamie counted about twenty survivors, many of whom were badly hurt. A second tally told him that he was the only officer, and that there was no food or water.

He laughed bitterly. He was the commander of the crew of the Pennsylvania. At least the killing had stopped. Now all they had to do was survive.

Admiral Chester Nimitz established his command at San Diego, which disappointed some of his officers, who’d hoped they’d get to stay at the larger and more cosmopolitan city of San Francisco. San Diego had a population of just under 150,000, while San Francisco was more than four times larger.

Almost on the Mexican border, San Diego possessed a fine harbor, and a marine base as well as an existing naval base. Nimitz’s move was administrative and had nothing to do with the location of the fleet. Except for a handful of cruisers and destroyers, there were no major war-ships in the narrow harbor overlooked by the admiral’s temporary office.

This day, Nimitz did not see the bay or anything else. His eyes were focused on the report in his hand, and, since he was alone, he made no effort to stop the tears that streamed down his face.

The report confirmed what they had feared-the loss of the Pennsylvania and four destroyers with all hands. It was a catastrophe on a par with Pearl Harbor. The American public didn’t know about it yet, but desperate calls for help had been sent in the clear and had been picked up by shortwave radios. Amateur radios were supposed to have been shut down, but there were still a number of them listening. There would have to be a reckoning and an explanation, and it would have to come soon. Even with the battleship’s crew at less than full strength, the combined crews were in excess of a thousand souls.

Incredibly, because of the chaos at Pearl Harbor, no one was certain who was on the Pennsylvania and who wasn’t. That infuriated Nimitz. No one should have to die anonymously.

There was a tap on the door, and Admiral Raymond Spruance entered. He had been commanding Halsey’s cruisers when Nimitz ordered him back to California. Spruance was a quiet man, but extremely intelligent and decisive. If Halsey was a bull, Spruance was the thinker. In only a short while, Nimitz had come to depend on Spruance’s abilities.

Spruance crossed the office and discreetly looked out the window. It gave Nimitz an opportunity to wipe his eyes.

“The Japs have pulled their ships back to the west of Hawaii,” Spruance said. “This’ll give us a chance to send out floatplanes and look for survivors. I doubt there’ll be any, but we’ll give it a try.”

Nimitz nodded. Could it get any worse? he wondered.

In the Philippines, MacArthur’s army was pinned on the Bataan Peninsula and the island of Corregidor. They would surrender in a matter of weeks, a couple of months at the most. MacArthur had been ordered to leave Corregidor so he would not be taken prisoner and paraded through Tokyo as a trophy.

In the southern Pacific, a small American naval force had joined with other small forces from the Dutch and Royal navies. Under a Dutch admiral, they would try to blunt the Japanese offensive in that area. Nimitz thought their task was hopeless.

The British army was retreating down the Malayan peninsula toward the city of Singapore, and it looked like a disaster there as well. Churchill had proclaimed the place a fortress that would be held at all costs, but everyone knew better.

In both the Philippines and Malaya, the Japanese army had outfought and outmaneuvered the Americans and the British. This did not bode well for the fate of Hawaii.

At least, Nimitz thought with some satisfaction, he had only the Pacific to worry about. The situation in the Atlantic was no less dire, with German subs ravaging American shipping all along the eastern seaboard and up the larger rivers. In Europe, both England and Russia were reeling under Nazi attacks.

“Opportunity,” Nimitz said.

“What?” Spruance asked quizzically.

“Pearl Harbor and all that has followed is not an unmitigated disaster.”

“Some’ll disagree with that.”

“Let them,” Nimitz said firmly. “Tell me, Ray. How many battleships have been sunk or damaged by Jap carriers?”

“Nine or ten, depending on how the British count battleships,” Spruance answered. “Eight of ours and at least one British.”

“And how many carriers have been sunk?”

Spruance grinned. He knew where this was going. “None.”

“Right. Now who the devil needs battleships when they keep on sinking?” Nimitz shuffled papers on his desk until he came up with the right one. “Look, we began this war with seventeen battleships to the Japs’ ten or eleven. We’ve lost eight, at least temporarily, but have fifteen under construction. In a year, two at the most, we will have overwhelming superiority in battleships.”

“Of course,” Spruance said as he took a chair.

“And the same holds true with carriers. We have seven to their dozen or so, but we have another eleven being built, and that doesn’t even count the smaller carriers, which we will start producing by the dozens. Can they match that?”

“We know they can’t. We know the limitations of their shipyards. Japan doesn’t have an industrial base like ours to draw on. While it’s a closed society, we’re fairly confident they can’t add more than a couple of carriers or battleships in the next several years. We already outnumber them in cruisers, destroyers, and subs. If we use our resources properly, we will defeat them. The carrier is the queen of the navy now, not the gunship. Battleships and cruisers will protect the carriers, not the other way around.”

Nimitz slapped the desk with uncharacteristic anger. “Yet, we’re going to lose Hawaii.”

Spruance nodded glumly. Three carriers were operating under Halsey. Their task was to protect Australia. A handful of old, slow battleships under Admiral William Pye was positioned along the California coast. They were there primarily to calm the fears of the populace, not to fight the Japs. If they tried, they’d be murdered.

“If Hawaii goes,” Spruance added, “then we’ll have to pull out of Midway as well. That big Jap task force we’ve been listening to seems to have departed. Only Hawaii can be its destination. It’ll arrive in a week or so, and, by that time, their planes from Molokai will have softened up Oahu’s defenses to the point where a landing will be a cinch.”

Nimitz rose and paced the small office. “Our ships are sunk, our carriers are too few, and I’m being told our subs aren’t sinking anything because the torpedoes aren’t working correctly. Is anything going right for us?”

“Magic is. At least we have some idea what the Japs are up to. Just a shame we can’t do anything about it right now. If the Japs ever find out about Magic, we’ll really be in a dilemma. We’ll be deaf and blind along with crippled.”

“Well,” Nimitz said, “that’s what we need to talk about. I just got word that Magic may be compromised.”

Spruance paled. “How?”

“The last of our codebreakers on Hawaii departed a few days before the landing on Molokai. They were on the cruiser St. Louis. We believe the St. Louis was torpedoed and sunk off the big island, Hawaii.”

“Survivors?”

“We don’t know. For once I find myself praying there aren’t any.”

Alexa ran outside in the night to help Jake with the packages that were stacked in the motorcycle’s sidecar. “What have you brought?” she asked with a laugh. “Christmas was a while ago.”

It was after midnight, and Jake had awakened her with his knocking on the door. She wore a thin cotton nightgown and had a short robe over it. Neither reached her knees, and she was barefoot.

Melissa Wilson had heard the motorcycle through her open window, and she too came out. If she was surprised to see Jake at two in the morning, she didn’t show it. All over Hawaii, people had become nocturnal, as they found it safer to travel slowly at night than to attempt movement during the day, when the Jap planes were out.

Alexa gaped as she handed several packages to Melissa. “What are you wearing?”

“One of my Jerry’s shirts and a smile,” Melissa said happily. “Don’t worry, Lexy I won’t scare Jake away.”

Jake pretended he didn’t hear the conversation and tried not to stare at Melissa as the three of them moved quickly into Alexa’s house. There they pulled the shades and lit some candles. Electricity had been out for a while, as had the telephone lines. There was an air of eager expectation as they opened the bundles. The two women immediately knew what they contained-food.

“Won’t this get you in trouble?” Alexa asked as she looked over the array of treasures. There was bread, powdered milk, cans of all kinds, and packages labeled as something called C rations.

“No,” he answered, and she saw anger flare in his eyes. “The dumb fuckers were throwing it away. Oops”-he flushed-”I’m sorry.”

The women laughed. “We’re both familiar with basic military terminology,” Missy answered. “I believe that word was little Jerry Junior’s first.”

Jake laughed, the anger gone. “The bread was decreed stale. It’s a little hard, but add water and it’ll soften up. You do have water, don’t you?”

“A well,” Alexa said.

“Good. The canned stuff is dented and therefore not worthy for our boys to eat, and the C rations might have been shipped improperly. It’s insane. We may be starving in a few weeks, but some fools still think we’re at peace and there’ll be an inspection in class A uniforms on Saturday morning. There’s a war on, and half the army still hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“What are C rations?” Alexa asked. She’d heard the term but had no idea what they were.

“They came out a couple of years ago,” Jake said. “Each package contains an unidentifiable meat, lemonade, hard candy, cigarettes, crackers or bread, and toilet paper.”

Alexa grinned impishly. “Then the assholes who threw them out should have kept them.”

“Absolutely.” Jake laughed again. He felt so totally at ease with Alexa and her friend. “I know you don’t smoke, but hang on to the cigarettes. They might be valuable soon. Hell, they already are.”

That sobered them. “The Japs are on their way, aren’t they?” Alexa asked.

Jake shook his head. “I didn’t tell you that. But think about something: The Japs haven’t hit the civilian water supply, only the military. That tells me they’re planning to invade and don’t want so much destroyed that they can’t sustain themselves after they take over. If all they wanted to do was destroy this place, they’d be flattening everything. No, they’re being very selective.”

“Do you remember Jamie Priest?” Melissa asked.,”He was on the Pennsylvania.”

“It’s sad, and it’s gonna get sadder,” Jake said. News of the sinking had just been officially released, and it had cast a further pall on the island. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get back before somebody notices the trash has been stolen.”

Melissa got up as well. “I think the baby’s crying.” The top buttons of her shirt had come undone while she was handling the packages, and Jake tried not to gape at her ripe, full breasts as she whirled and departed.

“I’ll escort you to your chariot, Sir Knight,” Alexa said. She took his arm, and they walked outside. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for us. Melissa’s worried sick about little Jerry not getting enough food. She had been nursing, but that’s literally drying up and he’s eating more and more solid food. I’ve lost a couple of pounds, but nothing I’ll miss.”

“I’m glad I can help,” Jake said. He thought that Alexa and Melissa had lost more than a couple of pounds each but didn’t comment. They were no doubt saving some of their food for Melissa’s baby.

Jake was conscious of the feel of her hand on his arm and the occasional brush of her body against him as they walked. This is not happening, he thought.

“Did you really steal trash?” she asked.

Jake chuckled. “It’s a skill I picked up as a child when we were really hungry. Amazing what people will throw out, and even more amazing what others will eat if they have to.”

Alexa shuddered. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Jake disengaged himself with reluctance and climbed on the motorcycle. “If it does, it does. Do what you have to to stay safe. Surviving is all that matters, not the price.”

“Will you come back again? I’d like to see you, and you don’t have to bring presents.”

“I’ll try,” he said as he kicked the motor into life. He would do more than try.

Alexa nodded. “I remember seeing a cowboy movie with John Wayne or somebody like him in it. The heroine told the departing hero to be careful as he went into battle, and we all laughed. It seemed such a silly statement at the time, but I don’t think so any longer.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful, Jake.”