1942

CHAPTER 2

Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was the hero of the moment and had decided to take advantage of it. His was the dominant personality within the navy, despite the fact that he was merely the first among several equals. As admiral of the Combined Fleet, he had by far the largest portion of the seagoing navy, but he was supposed to coordinate with entities within the naval hierarchy, many of whom seemed to have their own agendas. Yamamoto also reported directly to the naval chief of staff, Admiral Osami Nagano. So far, Nagano had proven easy for Yamamoto to dominate.

More than once Yamamoto had thought Japan was as likely to be defeated in the new war by her own byzantine bureaucratic mazes as by American industry and military strength. Japan was run by the military, but cooperation between the army and the navy was almost nonexistent.

For that reason, Admiral Yamamoto had asked for a private audience with the prime minister, General Hideki Tojo. If he could convince Tojo of the rightness of his idea, then Tojo would convince the others. It was irregular, but he felt the circumstances required it. As the hero of the moment, he knew he could bend protocol to the extent of having a private discussion with the prime minister, who was also the army minister. He had, of course, informed Admiral Nagano, who had given his discreet blessing to the mission. If Yamamoto was turned down, Nagano could then plausibly deny having encouraged him.

Yamamoto had managed to make the appointment within hours of hearing of the totality of the victory at Pearl Harbor. His dreams of victory had always been tempered by the realistic assessment that he would lose two of their priceless carriers and much of his airpower in destroying the American fleet at Pearl Harbor. When that did not happen, he realized that a new door had opened for Japan. At fifty-seven, Isoroku Yamamoto also knew that he personally had only a few remaining opportunities to influence the course of Japan’s history.

Leaving his aides with a whirlwind of tasks, Yamamoto had flown from the naval base at Hiroshima to Tokyo and arrived early the morning after the attack. He was alone and incognito. This was not the time to draw attention to himself. As a further concession, Tojo had agreed to meet with him at the prime minister’s residence.

Tojo greeted Yamamoto warmly, even exuberantly. After all, hadn’t the admiral given Japan the greatest naval victory since the victory over the Russians at Tsushima in 1905? Perhaps Pearl Harbor was even greater than that now legendary victory. Coincidentally, a very young Yamamoto had been present at Tsushima and lost two fingers from a shell fragment.

“General,” Yamamoto began, “I have requested this meeting because I wish to make a substantial change in our strategy regarding the Americans.”

Tojo turned serious. “Let me guess. You now wish to invade Hawaii.”

“Correct.”

“But why? You were against both that and the attack on Pearl Harbor. So was I until I recognized the need for it.”

“General, I based my opposition to attacking the American fleet on the fact that it would arouse a sleeping giant, the United States. We have no way of countering her industrial might. Remember, please, that I have been to America and toured her factories in Pittsburgh and Detroit, and we have nothing to compare with them.

“I said that we would run wild for six months to a year, and then I said I could not guarantee what would happen thereafter. The Americans have been constructing a vast fleet that could overwhelm us in a year or two at the most if peace is not arrived at.”

“I know,” Tojo said grimly. “Our strategy subsequent to attacking the United States was to be so solid defensively that any attempt at conquering us would be too expensive for them. It was also decided that Hawaii was outside the limits of our defensive perimeter, because it would be too expensive for us to conquer and hold. Admiral, what has changed your mind?”

“Simply put, the defenses at Pearl Harbor and the rest of Hawaii were far weaker than we believed and are now nonexistent. We can take and hold Hawaii, and the United States will not be able to use it as a forward staging area for assaults on Japan. Any attacks will have to come from California or Australia. I’m also sure that, as prime minister, you can see any number of diplomatic reasons for our holding Hawaii.”

“Of course. But the Americans will immediately bring reinforcements to Hawaii, won’t they?”

“They can’t,” Yamamoto said simply.

“What?”

“They have no fuel. They cannot bring ships or planes to Pearl Harbor because they cannot resupply them with fuel. The final attack on Pearl destroyed the American oil reserves. These cannot be made up, at least not for quite some time. In my opinion, they will have to send their fleet, including the carriers that escaped us, to either Australia or California.”

“I don’t understand. Ships and planes go to Hawaii all the time.”

“Certainly,” Yamamoto conceded, “but many of the ships need oil to get back, and all of the planes need to refuel. Under the current circumstances, any attempt by the United States Navy to reinforce Pearl would result in a graveyard of fuel-starved ships. Few, if any, major ships have the ability to travel such distances and return without refueling. Please recall that Nagumo’s fleet required midocean refueling in order to attack Pearl Harbor.”

“Can’t they use tankers, as we did?”

“Yes, but not until they accumulate a sufficient number to make an impact. I am convinced they will begin to repair the facilities at Pearl fairly quickly, so haste is of the essence.”

Tojo was intrigued. He leaned back and smiled. “Then won’t they reinforce their army? If we believe both their propaganda and our intelligence, they have more than thirty thousand soldiers on Oahu.”

“General, many of that number will be useless mouths in the event of an assault. Thousands are tied up in coastal batteries, administration, and, of course, maintaining an air force that no longer exists, and the remainder are simply not combat ready, despite their claims to the contrary. When we attack, we will totally dominate the air and the sea. American numbers will be irrelevant. As to their reinforcing the army, it will not happen for the same reason that the navy will not make the attempt. The lack of oil will deter them. I am convinced that the United States will not make any attempt to strengthen or enlarge their defenses on Oahu until they have the capability to store fuel for their planes and ships.”

Tojo rubbed his chin. “And when will they be able to do that?”

“My engineers feel it will take them at least three months to repair the depot, and several months after that to accumulate a sufficient quantity of oil to support a fleet.”

Tojo leaned forward. “And why will we be able to succeed in using Pearl as a base when the Americans cannot?”

“General, both mentally and physically we are prepared for war and they are not. We have the necessary tankers and they do not. And, finally, we can make the repairs much more quickly because we will be able to pour engineers into the area and use indigenous labor, even prisoners, to hasten the reconstruction.”

“It is intriguing,” Tojo said with a smile. “Yet so much is happening now. The Philippines have been attacked, as have Malaya and Hong Kong. Other campaigns are beginning or about to begin all over the Pacific. There is a timetable of conquest in place, and you are asking for it to be changed. It could result in chaos.”

“Yes,” Yamamoto replied solemnly. “But I would not request it if I didn’t think it was so very important. Remember when I said we would run wild for six months to a year? Well, the conquest of Hawaii could extend that estimate to years, perhaps decades. Perhaps”-he smiled grimly-”forever.”

“Do you have plans?” Tojo asked, and then he threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Of course you do.”

Yamamoto grinned back. “Nothing final, of course, but enough to show that it is more than feasible. It is an enormous opportunity to ensure the security of Japan.”

Tojo nodded. It was indeed intriguing, but there were other complications that could preclude such an operation. For one thing, the United States was at war only with Japan. While he had been assured that Germany would support Japan by declaring war on America, this had not yet happened. If the full force of American might was thrown against Japan, Yamamoto’s navy would be on the defensive far sooner than anticipated, whether Japan held Hawaii or not. Germany had to declare war so that the Americans would be compelled to fight a two-front war.

Additionally, he would have to deal with the fear that Japan’s generals had of Russia. The Soviets were considered to be the far greater threat to Japan’s security and had massed forces along the Siberian-Manchukuo border. However, everything indicated that the Russians were totally preoccupied with keeping Hitler out of Moscow. If the Germans declared war on America, and if the Soviets stayed out of it, then the seizure of Hawaii was indeed feasible.

“I will meet with my generals,” Tojo said. “If forces are to be made available, they will probably have to come from those in reserve in Japan, or from other areas, such as China or Manchukuo. We cannot jeopardize ongoing operations to facilitate your endeavor.”

Yamamoto nodded. “I am confident that no more than one reinforced division or its equivalent will be necessary, and the navy will provide both shipping and marines to lead the assault. It is not a great requirement at all. Our total domination of the air will eliminate any need for overwhelming ground strength. Add to that the fact that many of Oahu’s targets are within the range of naval gunfire, and we will be able to obliterate their defenses.”

Tojo was impressed and found himself exhilarated at the prospect. “We will meet in a day or two,” he said.

At the request of his superiors in army intelligence, Captain Jake Novacek had completed a tour of the damage to the naval facilities and had also been on the lookout for any evidence of possible sabotage. There was none, of course. All damage had come from the skies. He did not think it unusual that he would be asked to confirm what the navy might say about the damage to the fleet. That one service might evade, or even lie, in dealing with another was a given. In situations like this, it was human nature to try to gloss over failure, and the army needed an accurate report to enable it to commence its own plans. That the army would lie to the navy about the extent of its own losses was another given.

Jake was stunned and sickened by the devastation. Which horror was worse? The sunken and shattered ships settling in the harbor or the long rows of casualties, most of whom lay in uncomplaining silence despite their horrible burns and wounds? Saddest of all were the bodies that had been sewn into mattress covers. Many of them were burned or shattered beyond recognition and would never be identified.

As a result, Jake was physically and mentally exhausted by the time he was done. It was the evening of December 8, and he’d barely been able to grab an hour’s sleep since the fateful morning of the day before.

He had stopped to talk with the guards at the gates to the naval base and was just about to drive through them and down the road to his apartment in Honolulu and a long overdue shower when he heard his name.

“Captain Novacek, may I talk to you?”

A woman was standing in the shadows outside the gate, where he couldn’t quite recognize her. “Ma’am?”

“Captain,” one of the guards said, “it’s Mrs. Sanderson. She’s been out there for a couple of hours.”

Sanderson? Did he know anyone named Sanderson? His groggy mind refused to kick in for a moment. Of course. He’d played touch with Tim Sanderson just a couple of days earlier and had met his wife at a party following the Army-Navy Game of November 29. God, he was more tired than he thought if he couldn’t recall meeting someone like Tim’s wife only a week earlier.

Jake parked his car and walked over to the woman. She was distraught, although she was doing an admirable job of keeping herself under control.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sanderson, I didn’t recognize you right away.”

“That’s all right,” she said with a forced calmness. “I need a favor from you.”

“What is it?” he asked warily.

“I want to see the Oklahoma.”

Jake sagged. He recalled that Tim was on the ship that lay virtually upside down alongside Ford Island.

“Captain, Tim has not come home, and there’s been no word of him. I’ve seen the ship from the hill, and I’ve heard horrible things about what’s happening. I want to see if they’re true, Captain. I want to see where Tim might be.”

“Mrs. Sanderson, I will not take you there for the simple reason that the navy will not allow me there either. Yes, it is true there are people trapped in the ship, but the navy is moving heaven and earth to get them out.”

Jake saw the woman bite her lower lip and turn her head away. He hadn’t the heart to tell her that he had been by the devastated battleship, and it was a nightmare. Sailors were trapped in the ship, and the sounds of their clanging against the armored hull served as beacons for those who were desperately trying to drill through and rescue them. He couldn’t begin to imagine the nightmarish conditions in the pitch black of an overturned battleship.

Several sounds from within the hull had already ceased as air must have run out of the pockets in which men were trapped. Farther away, other sailors and workers played their radios loudly in order to drown out the agonies of the incessant pounding. If Tim Sanderson was trapped in the Oklahoma, then God help him.

Jake had been truthful when he’d said the navy was trying desperately to save the trapped men. As the hours dragged on, however, it was becoming a losing battle.

Jake asked where she lived, and she told him. She added that a neighbor had dropped her off. When he offered to drive her home, she almost pathetically said not to bother.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Sanderson, your place is on the way to Shafter and pretty near mine.”

With that, she demurred, and they drove in silence to her home. When they arrived, Missy Wilson walked up with her young child sleeping in her arms.

“I’ll take care of her,” Missy said after hearing that nothing had come of Alexa’s vigil by the base. She took Alexa by the arm and led her into the house. Alexa neither resisted nor complained. To Jake it seemed that she was beyond feeling.

Jake shook his head in sadness. He had met Tim’s wife only once before and been struck by her poise and patrician good looks. She was the type of woman he would never have otherwise met if it hadn’t been for the weekly football games.

Football? God, he thought, was the world ever that innocent? As he headed back to his car, another vehicle pulled up and a grim-faced naval lieutenant emerged.

The two men introduced themselves. The naval officer was Jamie Priest, and he was from the Pennsylvania. Like dogs sniffing, the two men checked each other’s rank and academy rings. Priest was a lieutenant in the navy, which was equivalent to a captain in the army. He looked several years younger than Jake, a fact that Jake had found more and more frustrating lately. Jamie Priest was also much smaller, wiry, and, when he removed his hat, showed thinning straw-colored hair.

“I’ve got to talk to her,” Jamie said. “They found her husband’s body in the harbor.”

“Christ,” Jake said.

What a waste of a decent young guy, Jake thought, and what a hell of a way to destroy a young woman. But at least that meant Tim hadn’t been trapped in the Oklahoma, spending a day and a half going mad in the claustrophobic blackness. Should she be thankful for small favors?

Missy emerged from the house, the sleeping child still on her shoulder. She had heard the conversation. “You won’t be talking to her tonight. I gave her some pills my doctor gave me after Killer here was born. Let her sleep. I’ll break the news to her when she wakes up.” Then she looked puzzled. “Shouldn’t there be a chaplain with you?”

Jamie shrugged. “Too many dead and not enough chaplains. Since I knew Tim, I volunteered.”

Jake made a mental note to find out when the funeral was and to check up on Tim’s wife. No, he corrected himself, Tim’s widow. The grief on Mrs. Sanderson’s face as she waited in vain for word of her husband’s fate had touched him deeply.

As he drove away, he realized that Alexa Sanderson’s innocent plight had brought the war home to him in a way that was far different from what the rows of wounded, the anonymous dead, the planes shooting at him by Hickam, and the sight of Lieutenant Simpkins’s shredded body after the Zero had strafed them had done. At least Tim’s widow and her blond friend were far enough away from the carnage that they didn’t have to smell it, or watch as the last of the flames were put out.

Admiral Husband Kimmel touched his chest and felt the bruise where a spent Japanese bullet had struck him during the height of the attack. At the time he had lamented that it would have been better had the bullet killed him instead of dropping harmlessly onto the floor. Since then, nothing had happened to change his mind. The spent piece of lead was now in his pocket.

“I just received a telegram saying I’ve been relieved,” Kimmel said. “I guess no one’s surprised, although I think it’s without justification. The war-warning message from Washington was manifestly ambiguous. They did not tell me to beware of an attack on Pearl.”

To the contrary, Kimmel thought. No one felt that any navy had the capability to do what Japan had done. And, in particular, no one felt that a semibarbaric country full of nearsighted little yellow men with buck teeth would even attempt such an enterprise.

“No one even informed me that the Jap fleet was at sea.”

General Walter Short nodded politely. He wondered if he too would be relieved and thought it was quite possible, although unlikely. After all, he’d lost only a few score planes, while Kimmel had lost almost the whole damned Pacific Fleet.

Short was confident that what he’d done would hold up under the inevitable scrutiny, although he understood the navy’s screaming need for a scapegoat. Sadly, Kimmel would be it. Hell, you don’t lose a fleet without blaming someone.

The navy had been horribly unprepared for anything remotely resembling war on the morning of December 7, 1941. The army, by contrast, had been prepared for the only type of assault deemed possible-sabotage by untrustworthy elements among the very large Japanese population on Oahu. The fact that the attack had been from the sea had been the navy’s fault, not the army’s.

“They name a replacement for you yet?” Short asked. He scarcely knew Kimmel. Neither the two men nor their underlings met frequently. Each had his own responsibilities. Now Short wondered if they shouldn’t have coordinated their efforts more closely. It would be something to take up with Kimmel’s replacement.

“Chester Nimitz is replacing me. He’s anticipated out here in a few days. He’s a good man. You will work well together.”

Short smiled. Time would tell on that.

“I’m to leave Hawaii as soon as possible,” Kimmel continued. “That means Admiral Pye will be in charge until Nimitz gets here. Along with defending Hawaii with what we have left, he will be sending his damaged ships to California for repair.”

Short was surprised. Admiral William Pye commanded the battle line, most of which was at the bottom of Pearl Harbor. “I didn’t know any could travel.”

“Maryland and Tennessee are relatively undamaged and will depart as soon as possible. The engineers say we may have to dynamite West Virginia to free up the Tennessee, but that’s acceptable since the West Virginia is so badly damaged she may not be salvageable. As to the others, only the Pennsylvania is capable of departing anytime soon. She survived the first two assaults fairly unscathed, but bombs from the last attack destroyed her forward turrets. Burning oil from the storage depot flowed down and around her in dry dock and caused additional damage, although not to her power plant. She will leave as soon as we can make certain she’s seaworthy.”

The departure of the remnants of the battle fleet disturbed Short. Even though Halsey had returned with the carriers Enterprise and Yorktown, Short was not comfortable that their protective shield would be long term. Halsey wanted to cruise the Pacific and search for Japanese ships, and not use the fleet to protect Pearl Harbor, which Short felt was imperative.

This was something else to take up with Kimmel’s replacement.

General Short was thankful he had the Hawaiian Division to protect the island from invaders. So what if he had lost most of his airplanes? The invasion, if it came, would be fought on the ground, wouldn’t it? After all, the Japs couldn’t take Hawaii without landing on it, and he longed to come to grips with the little yellow bastards.

Even though it hadn’t materialized, he was still concerned with the possibility of sabotage and, as military governor, had begun rounding up some of the more radical among the Japanese community. He couldn’t imprison them all, as General DeWitt was going to do in California. That wasn’t practicable, since the Japanese represented almost half the population of the islands, but he could defang any rebels among the Japs in Hawaii by arresting the leaders of any potential revolution.

Hell, even if he were to intern all the Japs in Hawaii, he wouldn’t have enough men to guard them all.

“Tell me, Admiral, have you uncovered any evidence of sabotage or espionage, other than the spying done by the Japs from their consulate?”

“No,” Kimmel said. “And that’s quite a surprise, isn’t it?”

Damn, Short thought. His intelligence people hadn’t found any either. General Marshall, the army’s chief of staff in Washington, would be second-guessing him like a son of a bitch for having focused on potential sabotage that hadn’t occurred. In hindsight, he thought he knew why nothing had happened. In order to keep the attack a secret, the Japs in Tokyo hadn’t told their cohorts in Honolulu about it. That made sense and told him that sabotage could still occur, although what was left to destroy? The fleet was gone, as were the planes, and the Hawaiian Division was armed and on guard. Hell, the soldiers almost hoped some local Jap would try something. One sergeant had said exactly that to Short and added that he’d blast the Jap’s ass back to Mount Fuji.

Marshall would understand that he’d done his duty, wouldn’t he? Short swore silently as he agreed with Kimmel’s comment about the war warning messages being so damned ambiguous. Who would have thought the Japs, or anyone else for that matter, were capable of sailing a fleet across the Pacific and striking without any warning at all, and without anyone even noticing them? Since then he had ordered additional patrols by his remaining planes and had begun working with Kimmel on coordinating those patrols with naval planes and then sharing the information. Should they have done that sooner? Probably, he thought.

“You got enough oil for your ships?” Short asked. He was well aware of the extent of the fuel loss and what it implied. He was, however, curious as to what Kimmel would admit.

Kimmel sighed. “We’re gonna need help, and fast. Halsey’s ships are guzzling it like there’s no tomorrow, and the three movable battleships will need to have their tanks topped off before they can depart. Frankly, General, we’re suspending all but the most essential patrol operations until we get resupplied. As much as I’d like to humor Halsey, we just can’t afford to have him running around chasing Japs and burning oil at this time. Christ, we lost four and a half million gallons of it that morning, and we have no way of replacing it, or storing it even if it was replaced.”

This confirmed to Short what his own intelligence people had found out. It did not strike him as unusual that he had used army personnel to spy on navy operations. He was disturbed because the events of Sunday had conclusively proven that a fleet anchored in Pearl Harbor wasn’t much use to anyone. Someone had better get some oil to Pearl Harbor so the navy could get out and do some fighting.

Short considered himself fortunate that he had sufficient aviation gas for the planes he had remaining. He also had the eight B-17s that had flown in on December 7, although several had been damaged in the fighting. If the Japs came again, he would use these superweapons, the so-called Flying Fortresses. Time would tell if they were as effective as they were supposed to be.

At least, he reminded himself, he hadn’t lost a fleet, only a few planes. Planes could be replaced fairly quickly, but battleships took years to build. Poor Kimmel. Poor bastard.