Pearl Harbour - A novel of December 8th (25 page)

“And you would have done what instead?”

“It never would have happened that way if the Germans had used the strategy I just outlined. Let us say on day one the German bombers took heavy losses pounding the British airfields and this wonderful defensive device of theirs, the ability to use radio waves to track incoming planes. I would have held the bombers back in the morning and early afternoon, simply sending in wave after wave of fighters to exhaust the British fighter command in all-out fighter-to-fighter battles without the need for the bulk of planes designed for offensive strike delegated instead to defend the bombers. Then the final punch of the day with all bombers massed and protected, the British fighter pilots, those left, going into the battle exhausted after having flown three or four sorties earlier in the day.”

“I agree fully. I do not understand how a man of Goering’s experience did not see that,” Yamamoto replied, warming yet again to this young, intelligent, aggressive pilot before him. He had admired his courage when Genda presented his unorthodox views at the conference at the War College more than three years back and had marked him in his mind for greater things yet to come.

“And your second point? The strategic view?” Yamamoto asked.

“Sir, there is where I am still amazed. In spite of the German failure in their application of force throughout July and August, they did pound into submission most of the airfields in southeastern England, forcing their abandonment. Granted, the British dispersed planes to smaller, concealed airstrips useful for just a squadron or two, but nevertheless superiority was in the German hands--and then, just when victory was at hand, their utter foolishness of turning their force on London.”

“We all know that now,” Yamamoto said. “I would think that the day the Germans started their terror bombing of London, Churchill breathed a sigh of relief.”

“Exactly, sir. But the deeper point is that here was the moment where the Germans still might have delivered the knockout blow. They had finally learned not to send their attacks in as smaller uncoordinated waves of but two or three hundred planes. I witnessed their biggest attack, somewhere around fifteen hundred planes in the air at once.”

He stopped for a moment, the memory of standing on the bridge, the massive air armada passing overhead, and its targets a waste. Never had he dreamed of such power in the hands of Japan. Over a thousand planes in the air at the same time. By all the gods, if given such power for a month, swarming forth from a dozen carriers, he could conquer the entire Pacific, giving to his beloved Emperor the most stunning victories in the history of warfare.

“If, on that day, they had sent that tremendous stream of bombers against the surviving major airfields, Biggin Hill, Duxford, two, three hundred bombers hitting each, followed a half hour later by low-level raiders strafing and disrupting the salvage effort, and perhaps catching surviving fighters back on the ground,” he sighed, “they would have shattered British fighter command that day, and the invasion could have followed the day after. Instead they bombed wharves and warehouses-- invasion or not, a waste of effort--and, sir, as we both know, there was never the invasion that should have ended that war, which might now very well drag on for years.”

He sighed, as if the wasted opportunity were his own personal loss.

“Victory or defeat in that battle over England, it was entirely about airpower, the first such battle in history, but most definitely not the last. If the Germans had built a dozen battleships, what good would they have been, other than to serve as targets to be hit. If they had had five hundred more fighters instead, and the understanding of how to use them, the swastika would be flying over London this day.”

“Sir, I think you know of my statement, which has caused me some embarrassment.”

Yamamoto smiled.

“I think so, but go on.”

“The three most useless follies of humanity: the building of the pyramids; the Great Wall of China; and now, our building of the Yamato and Musashi.”

Yamamoto kept a straight face. More than one of his battleship admirals had howled for Genda’s blood when he dared to say that in public. And yet he agreed. If Yamato and Musashi had been laid down as carriers, construction time and cost would have been cut in half, and at 72,000 tons each, the greatest carriers the world had ever seen, capable of launching two hundred or more planes each, would already be ready for sea.

“The Germans failed in delivering the one single strike that can bring victory, and that, sir, is the key to airpower: that first killing strike with massive, overwhelming force.”

Yamamoto refilled his cup and Genda’s.

“Your report on massed carriers used to deliver an opening strike is of great interest,” the admiral said, “a profound change of doctrine.”

“Sir, if all six fleet carriers, the ones we currently have and the two new ones about to be commissioned, were in a single mission we could put four hundred or more offensive planes in the air, have a reserve, and maintain as well an impenetrable cover over that fleet.”

Yamamoto sipped his tea and stood up, leaning over to look at the map of the entire Pacific region, spread out on the table.

“We must strike hard, we must strike first, we must strike in such a way that will so provoke them that they will not wait, they will sortie with whatever survives our first attack, and we then annihilate that. Only when the American navy in the Pacific has been sunk will we be able to force the Americans to agree to a negotiated peace. That must be our goal. Japan cannot possibly win a long war of attrition with the Americans. Their production capabilities will simply drown us. We must hit them so hard in the first round that they decide negotiation is the only realistic response. Anything less than that will lead to our ultimate defeat,” Yamamoto concluded with quiet but deep conviction.

Genda smiled and nodded. ”Pearl Harbor,” he whispered.

Yamamoto, who was famed for his “poker face,” said nothing as he stepped back from the table.

“You will soon receive official orders to help draw up plans for such an attack. It is just that I wanted to hear your thinking first, and I see now that it matches mine.”

“Sir, I do not have access to whatever intelligence has been gathered regarding what the Americans station there.”

“You will now be included.”

“I’ve studied what is open information. The army airfields and naval airfield will have to be suppressed. It will mean at least three hundred or more strike aircraft to do so and I would estimate our losses to be heavy.”

“That is anticipated and will be provided for.”

Genda could not suppress a grin. As a professional challenge this was the pinnacle. Years of study, of lecturing, of observing, and now at last, the chance to test his theories. ”I do not take this lightly,” Yamamoto said. “Both of us know America, both of us know the weaknesses she has shown, but we also know the hidden strengths. If drawn into a protracted war with her, eventually we will lose. It is impossible to match her numbers, her strength, unless somehow we can rally all of the Orient and define it as a war of liberation from Western Imperialism.”

Genda sat back saying nothing.

“But the army, with its brutish behavior in China, has only served to enlist more enemies than friends, and I fear that wherever we go, it will be the same, so this will be a fight we must fight alone to victory or ignoble defeat. The army has only served itself and to instill in all who meet it terror and hatred. Nanking is a blot on the national soul that can never be erased. Never was it such in the days of the traditional samurai. It is a sickness that I fear will haunt us for a century to come. Let us at least hope that the navy shall fight with honor and chivalry as it was in the days of old. We must strike America in such a way that will cripple her ability to wage a war at sea and then annihilate what they have left, the same as we did with the Russians, first at Port Arthur and then when their Baltic and Black Sea Fleet arrived off Tsushima, but in so doing, not create a rage that few understand. The Americans can indeed be roused if they feel themselves morally offended. If we can achieve a complete early victory, then we can negotiate with honorable concessions offered to achieve the security we desire. ”Yamamoto looked back to the sleet slashing against the porthole window.

“Achieve that, and then let us assume, just assume that in the years to come Stalin actually does fight against Hitler and defeat him. Perhaps at some future date, after establishing parity with the Americans, we might actually find ourselves side- by-side to face the Communist threat. Stranger things have indeed happened. If it should turn the other way, there would be time enough later to pick up the pieces in Siberia after Stalin’s collapse.

“That is our task, to wound, to defeat, but not to so enrage America that regardless of loss, regardless of the folly of attempting to totally destroy us while the Russians smile and wait to fill in the vacuum ...” and his voice trailed off.

He looked over at Genda.

“I want a comprehensive campaign plan within ten days.”

His words carried with them a note of dismissal.

Genda stood up, formally saluted, and taking his hat he stepped out of the room into the blast of sleet and icy rain. The entire ride back in the open launch, he did not feel the cold.

Pearl Harbor 24 June 1941

Lieutenant Commander James Watson wearily sat back in his chair, looking at his wristwatch: 4:00 a.m. He should have gone off duty ten hours ago. Any other woman except Margaret would have been motivation enough for him not to go home now. He had promised a Friday evening in Honolulu, a movie--she liked musicals especially with Astaire, he preferred Westerns and historical pictures. Standing her up thus, he knew it would be musicals for the next month or so as payback. But otherwise she understood, amazingly understood, even to the fact that he could only tell her he was working at CinCPac and nothing beyond that.

The cautionary tales had already been circulated to him on day one how more than one man had been washed out of the intelligence business because his wife finally coaxed the information out of him, often because the poor guy could not explain why he would often disappear for two or three days at a stretch without a mistress hidden away somewhere, and then when told what he was really doing she went and shot her mouth off to neighbors or friends.

The Japanese had changed their naval code yet again.

Everything was in an uproar since the evening of June 21. Half a world away it was the morning of 22 June 1941 and Hitler’s legions had crossed into the Soviet Union. Former allies, one of which was a potential foe of the Japanese, were now at war, and three days later early reports were that the Soviets were reeling from the hammer blows of the blitzkrieg.

And the following morning the Japanese navy had changed its code yet again. It was maddening. The hundreds of laborious hours to even partially crack a single message, cross-comparing that to other messages to see if the decoded words matched up and might then yield another few words. The complex cataloging of each message received, often with typos since the listeners on the radio rarely had a good grasp of Japanese and would often make mistakes as they tried to keep up with the streams of telegraph and occasional voice transmissions.

It was like running a marathon race, when you see the finish line just ahead, and then the bastards run out and double the distance to be run yet again.

The big question was, would Japan now jump and turn against the Soviets? The code change within hours of the start of war between Germany and the Soviet Union could either be a standard precaution, perhaps prearranged weeks ago, or a stepped-up security move on the eve of launching a strike.

If the Japanese attacked the Soviets, then what, he wondered? Would the president respond with a tougher embargo? The thought of Japan and Germany dividing up the corpse of that colossus was frightening, but what exactly would Japan gain?

In the face of increased German activity, President Roosevelt kept shifting ships out of the Pacific and into the Atlantic. It was clear that Washington thought the threat from Germany was a lot bigger and more urgent than any problems with Tokyo.

Somehow the view from this basement was a lot different from the view from the White House.

Still, it was his job to focus on his immediate world and not worry about the larger challenges President Roosevelt seemed to be worried by. And there was more than enough to focus on.

Everyone in the basement office this morning seemed disgusted, exhausted. He heard mutters of frustration. One possible source, the Japanese Consulate Office right in Honolulu, was off-limits. They actually sent messages via Western Union, and repeated, secret appeals had been made to the State Department to ask Western Union for just a “peek” at the messages before they were sent. Both the State Department and Western Union were absolutely appalled by the suggestion, pointing out that it was against the law for any agency to read texts sent under diplomatic seal. For after all, who would trust Western Union with their business if word ever got out of such distasteful goings-on, and besides, as repeatedly said, it was against the law.

Half crazed with frustration, Collingwood had even sent an enlisted man to secretly loiter behind the Western Union office, if caught to make sure he smelled of cheap booze, and go through the trash every night for a week, hoping to pull out at least one message sent by the consulate, but those papers were either incinerated or shredded beyond recall. Western Union did not want anyone reading their trash. A congressional investigation had already been threatened against the navy for its secret attempts to intercept private communications via Western Union and the various companies that owned the crucial cable lines, even though such intercepts might very well be essential for national survival. It was beyond absurd. So the Japanese continued to freely use American communications systems to send their secrets, without fear of intercept. It was the same across the board. Intercepts of transmitted messages in the clear were okay, but cable lines could not be tapped. The FBI might have some people keeping a watch on local Japanese living on the island or visiting, but the information was never shared, even though he had actually seen one man posing a woman by the waterside in a park at Pearl City while having a picnic lunch there with Margaret, the photographer going through great pains to position his beautiful model, but then shifting his camera with a large lens straight at the ships anchored but a half mile away and running off several rolls of film, of course that rather pretty Japanese girl smiling all the time as if her photo were being taken.