1942

CHAPTER 9

Jamie Priest found it difficult to wear a regulation uniform. The multitude of sores on his body, along with a gash on his back that he’d gotten from a piece of metal, caused him to wince every time something rubbed against his raw flesh. He was also still gaunt and haggard from his time in the water, and his head had been shaved in order to treat other cuts and sores.

“Lieutenant, you look like hell,” Admiral Nimitz said in a gentle, joking voice. Beside him, Admiral Spruance smiled.

“Thank you, sir. I have to admit it’s pretty much the way I feel.”

“You were very fortunate,” Spruance said. “The boys in that PBY had just about given up and were going to head for home when they spotted you. No one had any idea you would have drifted that far to the east.”

Well, Jamie thought, so much for our sense of navigation. “What about the others, sir? No one seems to know.”

“Son,” said Nimitz, “you were the only survivor in that cluster of debris.”

Jamie’s eyes filled with tears and his voice broke. “I’m sorry, sir. I tried so hard to help them.”

“We know you did,” said Spruance. “Maybe you survived for a reason. Now, show us the pictures and tell us how you got them.”

Jamie took a deep breath and got a grip on his emotions. In a plain manila envelope were the developed photos that Seaman Fiorini had taken. The navy had enlarged them to eight by ten, and the developing unit held the negatives. Other copies were en route to Washington. Fiorini would have been pleased.

“Spread them on my desk,” Nimitz said eagerly.

Jamie passed one of the glossies to Nimitz. “Admiral, only two are truly significant, and this one may be the most important. It proves that the Japanese ship fired eighteen-inch shells.”

The enlarged picture was somewhat grainy, but it clearly showed Jamie holding a measuring tape against the base of a gigantic shell. The unit indicators were clearly visible on the tape.

“Good Lord,” Nimitz muttered.

Jamie passed another across. “And this, sir, is the second most important. At the time Seaman Fiorini took this, the Jap was damned near alongside the hulk of the Pennsylvania. Even though the Jap is slightly farther away, you can see the enormous size differential.”

“Unbelievable,” said Spruance. “Like an adult among small children. That Jap battlewagon is twice the size of the Pennsylvania.”

“At least that much, sir,” Jamie added. “The pictures don’t give a true indication of perspective. Sir, may I ask who the Jap is?”

Spruance looked at Nimitz, who shrugged for him to go ahead. “Lieutenant, the ship must be their new battlewagon, the Yamato. We’d heard rumors that she was nearly finished and that she was big. What we didn’t know was how big. We thought she’d be in the same league as our North Carolina and Washington, at about 37,000 tons, and carry sixteen-inch guns. The Pennsylvania displaced 33,000 tons, and this beast must go sixty-five or seventy thousand.”

“And carry eighteen-inchers,” Nimitz added, still almost disbelievingly. The proportional difference in strength and weight of shell went far beyond the two inches in size.

Spruance shook his head. “Our engineers recently concluded that an eighteen-inch gun was years away in development, and that the Japs would have difficulty doing anything better than fourteens. God, they’ve euchred us again.”

Nimitz stood up and paced his small office. “This also means that we must dismiss any thoughts of using our battleships in duels with theirs. The North Carolina and Washington are en route to Pacific waters, but they’re not going to get even close to that monster unless the odds are overwhelmingly in our advantage.” He turned to Spruance. “Ray, all this does is confirm that we’re going to have to win this war with carriers and subs, not battleships.”

“Even if we had any battleships, we wouldn’t use them,” Spruance grumbled.

The South Dakota, a more modern version of the Washington and North Carolina, was finishing her shakedown training, but that was it. The Alabama would be launched shortly, but would not be ready until late in the year. The others in the class, the Indiana and Massachusetts, would be launched in 1942 but would not be ready until the next year. Not counting the old battlewagons in California waters, the United States would have three battleships in the Pacific.

These ships, however, were all in the 37,000-ton class. The 45,000-ton Iowa was scheduled for launch in late summer but would not be available for duty until mid-1943. Even if she were available, the Iowa would be seriously outgunned by the Yamato.

“No battleships and no carriers,” said Nimitz. “All of that means no relief for Hawaii or the Philippines.”

“Sir,” said Jamie, “are the islands going to be invaded?”

“It could happen at any time,” Nimitz answered. Both he and Spruance knew it was about to occur as they spoke, but Lieutenant Priest had not been cleared for Magic information.

“Then I would like to return to sea duty as soon as possible.”

“You’re entitled to go on leave,” Spruance said.

“I’d like to take it some other time.” Jamie grinned through cracked lips. “After all, sir, there’s a war on.”

Nimitz smiled. “So there is, son, but you’re not going to be in it for a while. I’m assigning you to staff work here so we can pump your brain about the Yamato, as well as the Japanese gunnery and torpedoes. Not too many people have seen the Jap navy in action like you have.”

Spruance looked away as Nimitz made his speech. Another Magic intercept had caught an angry Yamamoto castigating someone on the Yamato for executing American prisoners. Lieutenant Jamie Priest appeared to be the sole survivor of the last voyage of the Pennsylvania. There was no chance he was going back in harm’s way at this time.

There was also no chance that either admiral was going to tell the young man of the fate of his comrades.

In a strange way, the scene unfolding below him reminded Jake of his childhood in the hills of Pennsylvania and West Virginia, when he didn’t have any money and had to watch the high school football games from up on the higher ground. From such a distance, he had no idea who had the ball or who was winning. All he could see were dots moving slowly and relatively silently across a field. Sometimes he could hear distant cheering or the tinny blare of a band, but the noises seemed disconnected from the events.

Jake had placed himself on a spur of the Waianae Range, which ran down the western side of Oahu. He hoped fervently that he was invisible to the Japanese and that there was nothing on the hill that might attract their fire. The normally peaceful and beautiful white beaches of Haleiwa were about two miles away, but, through his binoculars, he could see events clearly as they unfolded.

The shelling had begun at first light. The American defenses were new and poorly concealed. Raw scars in the earth had shown the Japanese just where to fire, and they had done so to great effect, pulverizing most of their targets. Jake picked out two battleships and four heavy cruisers insolently standing just a couple of miles offshore as they poured thunderous fire into selected areas while transports patiently waited behind them.

The recently dug-in Americans had nothing to respond with and could only absorb the punishment that systematically destroyed all the hard work they’d done. What the ships didn’t hit, the planes did. At almost any moment, there were at least a score of Zeros and Kate bombers overhead. Jake couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like in that thunderous hell on the beaches. Even where he was, he could feel the earth tremble as shells and bombs hit home.

At about ten in the morning, he counted fifty-four landing craft heading toward the beach. If each carried its full complement of twenty-four men, almost thirteen hundred Japanese soldiers were in the first wave. Granted, there were more Americans than that in the area, but the Japanese attack was focused on one point, and the other spread-out American defenders could do nothing to help their beleaguered comrades.

When the landing craft beached on the white sands, ramps on their front ends were dropped, and tiny dots, Japanese soldiers, came pouring out. Jake exulted when some of them fell and actually cheered when one of the landing craft burst into flames from a shell. But it was too little, and the Japanese quickly overran targeted American positions and established a perimeter while the landing craft returned for more soldiers.

Within a few hours, Jake estimated there were between five and six thousand Japanese on the beach, with more arriving almost continuously. Also landed were a handful of vehicles, towed artillery, and small tanks. He saw other dots. These were American defenders fleeing southward down the road to Schofield Barracks and Oahu. Overhead, Japanese planes strafed and bombed anything that moved, and the retreat quickly became a rout.

Japanese gunnery had begun seeking targets farther inland, and Jake decided it was time to leave. He packed his binoculars and mounted his motorcycle. He would go cross-country and not try the road, which was quickly becoming a death trap full of burning and wrecked vehicles. He was not alone in this decision; numerous clusters of men trekked south across the fields.

Smoke could be seen from the small towns in the area. Waialua, with its five thousand people, was in flames, while the coastal village of Haleiwa itself, with only a couple of hundred souls in cottages and shacks, had been flattened by the battle.

Civilians had begun withdrawing when the shelling started, and now they clogged the one narrow road that the army needed for withdrawal of the wounded, evacuation of shattered units, and arrival of reinforcements. There was nothing but chaos on the roads, and Jake could see no sign of American reinforcements heading northward against the flow.

He watched in horror as Japanese planes swept across the narrow road and killed without discrimination. It was like the newsreels he’d seen of the Nazis butchering innocent civilians in France in 1940. It was hard to believe it was happening to Americans on American soil, but the truth lay before him.

Fortunately, darkness would fall in a couple of hours. If the retreating mass of people could stay clear of the fires that would attract planes, they might make it through to Schofield.

So too, Jake thought grimly, might he.

President Roosevelt’s face was ashen and drawn. His hands shook, and he looked on the verge of collapse. Admiral King resisted the urge to call for medical assistance as he remembered General Marshall’s comments about the president’s health. What he was seeing was a prime example of the stresses that were destroying the man who appeared in public as strong, unflappable, and buoyantly confident.

Finally, Roosevelt was able to speak. “I know it was expected, but it is still a shock. It’s like the death of a loved one who’s been dying for months. No matter how much we think we’re prepared, it’s still a tragedy.”

King kept his silence. Roosevelt had just gotten official word of the Japanese landings on Oahu.

“Is there nothing we can do?” the president asked.

King and Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox locked eyes. They had been over this ground many times. Partly as a result of the decision that Germany was the primary enemy, there were few resources available to the navy. Another factor was Japan’s unnerving and totally unexpected propensity to be dominant in several crucial areas, and only time, as the American war machine gradually geared up, would shift those dominances.

“The public is going to crucify me if Hawaii falls,” Roosevelt said. “Thank God there’s time to repair the damage before the next presidential elections, although my party is going to catch hell in fall’s congressional races.”

“The Japs will take Hawaii,” King said tersely. Wait. Had the president just said he was going to run for a fourth term? The third one in 1940 had been unprecedented. Would his health hold up for the current term, much less one more?

Roosevelt tried to rub the pain from behind his eyes with his knuckles. “When that happens, there will be no reason for Bataan and Corregidor to hang on. Do you know the soldiers in the Philippines are fantasizing that we will soon land ten thousand Negro soldiers on white horses to save them? My God, they’re going mad over there. How long do you give Oahu, Admiral?”

“Ground warfare isn’t my specialty, sir, but my experts say two to three weeks at the most. If the Japs adhere to the pattern established in their earlier attacks, in Malaya and the Philippines, they won’t wait too long before advancing. They like to keep their opposition off balance.”

“Singapore will soon fall as well,” Knox said.

The British and Empire troops had almost entirely withdrawn across the Johore Strait, which meant that only the small island that contained the city of Singapore remained of all Malaya. The British had been outmaneuvered by the Japanese, who’d moved through the jungles instead of using the roads and, when on the roads, had mounted many of their troops on bicycles, enabling them to travel with astonishing swiftness.

“When that occurs,” Knox continued, “the Japanese will control all of the western Pacific and be in a position to attack Australia. We will find it very difficult to fend off an invasion down there.”

Roosevelt nodded grimly. “Would they do that?”

“It would be a tremendous reach,” King answered, “and doubtless not in their original plans. However, neither was Hawaii. Success breeds ambition and this is no exception.”

“Perhaps ambition will be their downfall,” Roosevelt murmured, and the others nodded. “Tell me, Admiral, when can you mount a counterattack and retake the Hawaiian Islands?”

King was surprised. A counterattack of any force was a contravention of the policy of Germany First. “We need more ships, and we need an army. According to General Marshall, we will have an army well before we have the ships. Let’s face it, sir; even though we have a number under construction, ships take years to build, while a soldier can be trained in far less time. If we are going to counterattack by the end of this year, it will be largely with what resources we have now. If you want to wait until the end of 1943, then we will have a fair degree of dominance.”

Roosevelt nodded. “What would you need to attack now?”

“Carriers, sir. And a solution to the torpedo problem with our submarines. The days of the battleship are over, except to protect the carriers and for shore bombardment. I wouldn’t let any of our battleships go against that Japanese giant unless the odds were heavily stacked in my favor, like the British finally wound up with against the German Bismarck.”

Roosevelt and Knox agreed. Until the Yamato made her entrance, the German Bismarck had been the largest warship ever. She’d finally been sunk, but not until she’d been crippled by torpedoes from planes, and only then by the concentrated fire of several Royal Navy battleships and cruisers. The recently arrived information about the Yamato had stunned them. Confirming pictures were en route, and it had already been decided that the public would not see them for a long while. Nor would anybody comment on the possibility that there might be a sister or two of the Yamato under construction in Japanese shipyards.

“You have three carriers in the Pacific, do you not?” Roosevelt asked of King.

The question was rhetorical. The Enterprise and Lexington had been in the Pacific at the time of Pearl Harbor, and the Yorktown had arrived shortly after. That left the Ranger, Saratoga, Wasp, Hornet, and the small Long Island operating in the Atlantic.

Roosevelt smiled for the first time during the meeting. “Why do we need carriers in the Atlantic? The German surface naval threat is nonexistent, and the fleet carriers are little use against their subs.”

Knox responded. “They will be used to support amphibious operations.”

“Which,” Roosevelt said, “will not occur for some time. And, when they do occur, can’t the carriers be moved from one ocean to another fairly rapidly? After all, isn’t that mobility part of their purpose?”

King liked what he was hearing. “At last count, the Japs had nine or ten carriers, but several of them were small, like the Long Island. While they doubtless have others under construction, they suffer from the same time constraints we do. Also, light carriers like the Long Island are better suited for use against German U-boats, which is why we are converting merchantmen to small carriers. The fleet carriers serve no purpose, other than political, in the Atlantic.”

The president winced at the word political, and Knox averted his eyes. The very close relationship between Roosevelt and the British prime minister, Winston Churchill, was an ongoing sore point with King and others who felt that the president was far too deferential to British concerns.

“Be that as it may,” Roosevelt said, “you shall have your carriers. Not all at once, mind you, as we cannot give even the slightest hint that we are shifting our focus away from helping England and Russia. Perhaps we can do something sooner than late 1943. I leave it to you to come up with a suitable plan.”

King was pleased. He had won part of the battle for the Pacific. With carriers, he could strike at the Japanese. It would be too late for Hawaii, of course, but it would occur. Now he could get on with other problems. The torpedoes were a nagging situation. Did they work properly or not? Then, of course, there was the problem with carrier-based planes. Right now, the Japanese Zero ruled the skies, and all the carriers in the world wouldn’t change a thing unless there was a good plane on them. Almost all the American carrier planes were F4F Wildcats, which hadn’t been tested in battle. King and the other admirals were certain that the Wildcat was superior to the P-36 or the P-40, but just how much better was the question.

All in all, though, King was pleased. He’d gotten the promise of reinforcements and seen the president apparently shake off his unexpected case of nerves. On a really good note, King hadn’t been invited to have one of the president’s famous martinis. Maybe he’d been too blunt with his commander in chief, but that was okay. In King’s opinion, the President of the United States made a lousy martini.

Colonel Shigenori Omori and his kempetei detachment landed on the second day of the invasion. By that time, the Japanese perimeter on Oahu extended several miles inland, and there was no danger from American artillery, which had been either overrun or knocked out by Japanese airplanes and the big guns from the warships.

Omori thought that Hawaii was a beautiful place, and he briefly enjoyed the serenity of walking the beaches and watching the majestic waves as they crested on the clean white sand. He did not, however, permit himself to linger over these thoughts. The time for luxury would come later. Instead, he examined the smashed American defenses, where the dismembered and bloated bodies of the dead still lay where they’d fallen. At least they had died warriors’ deaths, he thought. Not like the prisoners who clogged the pens and clustered in numbed groups within their barbed-wire compounds.

Omori walked to one of the pens, where he looked through the fence at the face of the enemy and was unimpressed. “If they were Japanese,” he said, “they would be considered as dead. These, however, don’t seem to care.”

His aide, Lieutenant Goto, laughed. “The Americans aren’t warriors. They have no sense of duty or pride. These creatures remind me of Chinese beggars. They are less than human and should be treated as such.”

Both by virtue of his position as aide and as a result of his political connections, Goto felt that he could speak more freely than a normal subordinate. Omori tolerated it, sometimes even appreciated it. Even though Goto was occasionally a brute, he was intelligent, a good aide, and not a sycophant, and his connections were a fact of life.

Omori and Goto continued their examination of the area. The civilian population had not escaped completely. Several mangled and bloated bodies were visible in and around the blasted villages, and a number of ragged islanders, mainly native Hawaiian, watched in confusion as the Japanese army moved past them. Any American civilians in the area appeared to have escaped or been killed.

“Schofield will fall shortly,” Omori said. “And then we will be on the threshold of taking both Pearl Harbor and Honolulu. At that point, it will become essential that we end the battle quickly. A prolonged struggle for the island is not in our interests. That being the case, what do you think General Tadoyashi will do and how might we help him?”

The first assault waves had been Imperial marines, who had taken surprisingly heavy casualties, but they had been leapfrogged by the reinforced 38th Infantry. The marines had accomplished their purpose by establishing the beachhead; now it was the army’s task to complete the conquest. For once, cooperation between the two services had been fairly good. Neither wanted to bear the onus of failure, and both wanted the laurels of victory.

“I don’t know,” Goto answered after some thought.

Omori smiled. The boy had so much to learn, but at least he was honest. “Terror.”

Colonel Collins waved Jake Novacek into his office and shut the door. “Jake, in your humble opinion, what’re our chances of winning this thing?”

The junior officer laughed harshly. “Slim to none.” After several days of gathering their forces, the Japanese had moved. A double-pronged attack had been launched against the hastily made defensive line that ran across the middle of the island. Both American flanks were anchored on Schofield Barracks. Japanese infantry and armor had probed and, with suffocating air support, breached the line in several parts. As a result, Schofield was surrounded on three sides and was in grave danger of being cut off entirely.

An earlier attempt at a counterattack had been launched over Collins’s and Jake’s vehement protests. Both men had stressed the fact that any forward movement was hazardous and could be countered by the Japanese. To say the attack had fizzled would have been a compliment. Very few units even reached their jump-off points, and none launched their attacks at the assigned time. Those that finally did make piecemeal attacks were cut to pieces by the Japanese. At least a third of Oahu’s garrison was dead, wounded, or missing. If the pocket at Schofield was cut off or wiped out, the casualties would be at 50 percent.

Pearl Harbor and Honolulu were becoming a defensive perimeter with most of the garrison’s best soldiers already out of action. As in the Philippines, the Americans were fighting bravely and hard but were being overwhelmed. Within the Honolulu-Pearl perimeter, there was a great deal of confusion, with thousands of soldiers either separated from their units or, worse from Jake’s standpoint, noncombat troops who hadn’t held a rifle in years. Useless mouths was the phrase kicked around at headquarters.

Collins nodded thoughtfully. “You think Short’ll surrender?”

“He has to,” Jake answered.

“Will you?” Collins asked and saw surprise register on Jake’s face. “Look, Jake, I know what you’ve been up to. After all, I’m intelligence too, aren’t I? You’re going to bail out of the surrender and go it alone on this island, aren’t you?”

“True.” In the last couple of weeks, Jake had taken guns, ammunition, and rations from various storehouses and cached them in a number of places on the island. While he had given a good deal to Alexa and Melissa, much more had been buried elsewhere.

“Were you planning to run your own war?” Collins asked with a grin.

Jake took a deep breath. “Sort of. Joe, you ever been in jail?” Collins hadn’t. “As a young, dumb kid, I spent a few days in various smalltown jails and hated it. A POW camp is nothing more than a jail, only worse. In jail, at least you know how long your sentence is, or that you’ll be let out on Monday when you’ve sobered up. If the Japs put us in one of their camps, you’ll have no idea when you’ll get out. If ever.”

Collins agreed. News of atrocities in Japanese-run prison camps was slowly filtering through to the rest of the world. Both men knew that an extended stay in a Jap camp was equivalent to a death sentence. An ugly, agonizing death sentence.

“And no,” Jake said, “I wasn’t planning anything as foolish as starting a guerrilla war. The weapons and supplies are reserves in case they’re needed, but I was first planning to stay alive, and then I’d organize some kind of resistance, but not a war.”

Collins handed Jake an envelope. “I’m leaving tonight on that big Pan Am flying boat. It’s been painted black, and it’ll be taking off with a full complement of people. You’ll be on it.”

“What?”

“It’s all in the envelope. The navy has a problem. They’ve lost something important, and they want us to find it, and you in particular have been chosen to do it. The fools sat on the problem until it was almost too late. Apparently some important people were on a ship that got sunk and they wound up on the Big Island. Your job is to find them and make certain they don’t fall into Jap hands. That ought to tie in with your plans to skip the surrender ceremonies.”

“I’m damned,” Jake said.

“Probably. The navy would have the marines do it, but they’re all gone, so it’s up to us. You’ll have a squad of infantry with you. I don’t know who these people are on Hawaii, or why they’re so damned important, but it was stressed that the Japs cannot get their hands on them under any circumstances, is that understood?”

Jake understood. His orders were to kill them if capture appeared imminent. Good Lord, who were they?

“One other thing,” Collins said. “These navy types may have rank on you, and that cannot be permitted to interfere with your duties. You were just promoted to the temporary rank of major, right? Well, that’s been changed to a permanent grade, and you now have the temporary rank of lieutenant colonel. Who knows, if this damned war lasts long enough, you might outrank me, although you’ll never, ever, be smarter or better looking. Oh yeah, the orders also have you reporting directly to someone in Washington so you won’t be court-martialed if you decline to honor Short’s order to surrender. It won’t mean anything to the Japs, who’ll probably chop off your head if they catch you, but it might save your tail in the future.”

“Who’s the someone in Washington who’s now my boss?”

“Marshall,” Collins said and chuckled as Jake’s jaw dropped.

Jake’s emotions were mixed. Rank and recognition were things he’d always dreamed of, but they had come during an enormous and humiliating American defeat, and he was expected to be an assassin if it became necessary.

Collins laughed. “Like I said, we leave tonight. Get your things in order and be back here at ten.”

“I’m a bachelor and I’m totally dedicated to the army. There’s little to put in order.”

“Then go say good-bye to the widder woman you’ve been seeing and you think I don’t know about.”

“Bastard,” Jake said with a grin as he left Collins.

He didn’t want to leave Alexa alone in Honolulu, but at least he’d be free and not in a prison camp. In that case, perhaps he could help her out while attending to the rest of his plans. He would also ask a favor of Toyoza Kaga. Jake had no idea which way Kaga would leap when the Japs took over, but asking him to maintain a discreet observation of Alexa and Melissa was nonpolitical and couldn’t hurt.

Alexa tried not to cry. With Tim gone, Jake had become her friend and her anchor. That and the fact that she was genuinely fond of him made the thought of his leaving all the more upsetting.

Damn the military and its secrets, she raged inwardly. All Jake had been able to tell her was that he was departing for someplace that night. But if he had been going stateside, she realized, there would have been no need for secrecy. He hadn’t said he was going to the mainland, which meant he would still be someplace on or near the islands. Interesting.

On the plus side, Jake had brought some more supplies and a bottle of white wine, which she, Melissa, and Jake had finished. They’d had to drink it warm, but it still tasted good.

Melissa said she heard the baby crying and left the two of them sitting on the couch. Jake’s large hand was enfolded by Alexa’s two.

“The last time you left me,” she said, “I told you to be careful. I should have waited until this.”

“It worked once, say it again.”

She smiled and kneaded his hand. “Be careful. Now, what words of wisdom do you have for me?”

Jake took a deep breath. Life was already awful on Oahu, and it was going to get much worse. He had arrived during the day and been faintly surprised at the lack of Japanese air activity. The ruined buildings, charred vehicles, and cratered fields he took as a matter of course. The Japanese were all focused on the area around Schofield and the dissolving defense line north of the Honolulu perimeter. The result was that Honolulu enjoyed a temporary reprieve, although the rumblings of bombs and shells echoed in the distance while clearly visible fingers of smoke reached skyward.

“Last time I told you to survive. Just do that, Alexa-survive. Do whatever you have to do, pay any price, just survive. Cheat, lie, steal, anything; it doesn’t matter what you have to do as long as you survive. Stay alive and I can look for you. If you don’t, I can’t.”

She squeezed his hand harder. “When will the army surrender?”

“A few days, maybe a week. In the meantime, you and Melissa get into the city and stay in the crowds. You don’t want to be two women alone out here when the Jap army comes through.”

“But will it be that much safer in Honolulu?”

“Who knows? But it can’t be worse than here. Maybe after the surrender you can come back, but not until then. Stay with crowds. There’s always safety in numbers. Dress ugly and don’t wear makeup or wash your hair. Tell Melissa to dye her hair back to its normal color, whatever that was. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself or make yourself attractive. If that fails, then there’s nothing left but to endure what you must and do what you can to survive.”

Survive, Alexa thought. Survive was today’s vocabulary word. Jake had said he’d look for her, and that gave her some hope. “When should we leave?”

“The sooner the better. Pack now and be ready to move at a moment’s notice.” He checked his watch. “I’ve gotta go.”

Light was fading as they walked to the motorcycle. I’m going to be more alone than I have ever been in my life, Alexa thought. Melissa was a good friend, but she had her own priorities, a son and a departed husband.

Alexa put her hand on Jake’s arm and felt the strength of his muscles. “Jake, I will do everything I must to get through this, and I want you to survive as well.” She then put both her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. “And then I want you to find me, understand? Please find me.”

Jake was shocked speechless. She was just about as tall as he, and he was almost as frightened by the intensity in her eyes as he was delighted by the feel of her body against his.

“I understand,” he finally managed to gasp. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to get back from the big island of Hawaii to Oahu with only the Jap army and navy in the way.

Admiral Yamamoto pounded his desk in frustration. His plans were falling apart. Where were the Americans? Why hadn’t they sent a fleet to relieve Oahu? How could the Japanese navy fight the climactic and decisive battle that would knock the Americans out of the war if the Americans didn’t cooperate?

Since when, he reminded himself wryly, did the enemy cooperate during a war? It was a lesson that was continually learned and re-learned by admirals and generals everywhere.

Commander Yasuji Watanabe nodded tolerantly. He was as close to a friend as Yamamoto permitted himself while on duty, and only he was privileged to see such rare displays of uncontrolled temper. Technically, Watanabe was Yamamoto’s aide, responsible for coordinating logistics, but Yamamoto used him as a sounding board when circumstances directed.

The admiral rose and paced his office. The battleship Yamato was in calm waters, and there was very little motion as she knifed through the sea. That and the sheer size of the ship made for a stable platform.

“We cannot win a war of attrition,” Yamamoto continued, “and we cannot permit the Americans time to rearm. Have you seen the reports from Fuchida on Molokai? He’s already lost half his planes. The Americans may not have any fighters, but they do have antiaircraft guns and they use them quite well. Add those to the pilots we are now losing from the carriers and we may have a serious problem to resolve. Damn their foolishness anyhow!”

Watanabe concurred. The foolishness referred to was the Japanese pilots’ continuing resistance to wearing parachutes. Flouting direct orders, the carrier pilots either didn’t take them, or didn’t hook them up when in their planes. Their excuse was that sitting on a parachute made flying awkward. Everyone knew better. A parachute was a violation of bushido. A warrior dies in battle; he does not parachute away from the foe. That this attitude took the lives of highly skilled and virtually irreplaceable carrier pilots didn’t faze them one bit.

It did, however, faze Yamamoto, Nagumo, and Fuchida. Carrier pilots were excessively trained in Yamamoto’s opinion, and there were too few of them to use as reinforcements after lives were thrown away. Planes could be built by the thousands, but where would the pilots come from? He had tried to get modifications to the rigorous training program but had so far been unsuccessful. Even Commanders Fuchida and Genda, both products of the system, concurred that changes had to be made or Japan would run out of carrier pilots long before the Americans did.

As a result of casualties already taken, Yamamoto had made the decision not to send Nagumo’s carriers on a raid through the Indian Ocean to Ceylon after Oahu fell. No, they would need time to regroup before striking toward Australia. The Royal Navy bases at Trincomalee and elsewhere would keep for another day. Fortunately, the Royal Navy contingent in the Indian Ocean was not a great threat. At least not yet.

“Watanabe?”

“Sir?”

“If the Americans are not going to rise to the bait, then we must end this as soon as possible. Please inform General Tadoyashi that there is no need for him to hold anything back. The Americans simply are not coming. Please tell him that I would appreciate it greatly if he would use whatever force is necessary to bring this campaign to a quick and decisive halt.”

Part of the plan was that Tadoyashi’s army would strengthen itself and mark time for a few days as a lure for the American fleet. It was now obvious that the gambit had failed and was to be discarded.

After Watanabe left, Yamamoto regretted the part of the bargain with Tojo that had compelled him to use carrier pilots on Molokai, instead of asking for more expendable army pilots. Army pilots would have been at least as effective, but no, he’d had to promise that naval personnel would fly from Molokai. As a result, Fuchida had lost more than fifty planes and pilots, an entire carrier’s worth of irreplaceable pilots. Anyone, Yamamoto angrily reminded himself, even a half-trained army pilot, can land on a field. It takes great skill and training first to find and then to land on a moving carrier in an angry and tossing sea.

At least General Tadoyashi could now proceed without any constraints. This meant that terrible things would occur on Oahu if the Americans didn’t surrender. Yamamoto wondered if this was another decision he’d regret.