long-range field guns can hit Pearl. Both of them are confident the Japs can be stopped.”
Jake shook his head. “Whoever holds that part of the Koolau Range dominates the field, and right now that’s us. Our guns already overlook the Bellows area and can hit their ships and landing craft, and, no matter how hard they try, they can’t knock out all of them. That is why they won’t land there. Did you tell him that those Jap transports can slip away under cover of darkness and be off Haleiwa in a couple of hours at most? Did you remind him that those are only light cruisers and destroyers out there off Bellows? Where are the heavies and the battleships? Joe, this is only a feint! The Japs are making us move potential reinforcements away from Haleiwa, which is where they’ll be tomorrow morning and we won’t be able to do jack-shit about it.”
“I told General Short everything, Jake, and he insisted that he’d made a decision and he’d stick with it.”
Jake took a deep breath. “Then let me go to Haleiwa and observe.”
“Now?”
“Now, Joe. Let me slip away under the cover of night and see what’s happening up there.”
Collins hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of sending one of his most capable officers, and a good friend to boot, off on a possible wild goose chase. But, with Short’s mind made up and all decisions made, there wasn’t anything more to be done at G-2 for the time being.
“Go ahead, Major Novacek,” Collins said. “And I hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I, Joe. So do I.”
The Japanese landing and bombardment forces were out of sight as they prepared to launch the assault. Admiral Yamamoto paced the bridge of his mighty flagship and felt that he had again been taught the lesson that nothing goes according to plan.
Yamamoto was particularly distressed by the failures in leadership that had occurred, although he fully understood that he had only himself to blame for much of what had happened.
The admiral now flew his flag on the superbattleship Yamato, and, along with the additional battleships and heavy cruisers that constituted the heart of an exceptionally strong strike force, held station about fifty miles west of the bombardment force and the transports. They lay silently and waited for the arrival of an American relief force. Then they would pounce and destroy.
To the best of his knowledge, the existence and strength of the Yamato remained a secret. His problem was that he didn’t know this for certain. It had been a mistake on his part to send the Yamato along with two smaller, older battleships against the Pennsylvania. He had thought that the three would dispose of the damaged American battleship in short order and provide the raw crew of the Yamato with invaluable combat experience. Instead, the crippled American ship had fought with a ferocity reminiscent of a wounded, cornered animal.
While the Yamato had emerged unscathed, the Fuso and the Ise had been damaged, with the Ise forced to depart for Japan for repairs and modifications. There was talk of putting a short flight deck on the Ise’s stern and making her a hybrid: half battleship, half carrier. Yamamoto thought it was nonsense and showed what problems lurked beneath the surface of Japan’s successes.
When the American warship finally sank and efforts were being made to recover survivors, a periscope had been reported, which caused all the ships to flee the area in haste. American torpedoes might be inconsistent, but no one wanted to test them. When the facts were in, it appeared that the “periscope” had been nothing more than floating debris. The captain of the Yamato had reported the possibility of other American survivors in the area but assured Yamamoto that he had shelled them and that they must all be dead.
Admiral Yamamoto was not totally confident. Nor was he thrilled when an officer on the Yamato misunderstood his directive that all efforts be taken to ensure that the existence of the great ship remain secret. As a result, he had taken it on himself to execute all seventy-odd survivors from the Pennsylvania who had been taken aboard before the periscope fiasco. The young officers who’d carried out the deed were fanatical believers in the code of bushido and felt that anyone who surrendered, regardless of the circumstances, was beneath contempt and unworthy of being allowed to live.
In a scathing tongue-lashing, Yamamoto had reminded them that the rest of the world would consider their actions war crimes and be a possible hindrance in negotiating peace with the United States if the story got out. He did not think he’d converted the officers, and, not for the first time, Yamamoto concluded that rigid adherence to bushido would spell doom for the Japanese Empire.
The admiral conceded that the giant ship might yet be seen by a sub or a patrol plane, but he was confident that any sightings would be inconclusive, and that the immense strength of the Yamato would remain cloaked until her fury could be unleashed against an unsuspecting American relief force.
The Americans had not reacted to the landings on Molokai, which had surprised him, but they had to send a battle force to try to save Oahu. It was inconceivable that the United States would permit 400,000 of her people to be conquered, even if a third of them were Japanese. In order that the invasion portion of his fleet be detected in advance, he had ordered the normal flow of radio transmissions to occur and even concurred in the sending of some messages in the clear that would ordinarily have been encoded.
He checked his watch. Off in the distance, the predawn bombardment would be just beginning. In only a few hours, Japanese soldiers and marines would commence landing on the northern beaches of Oahu. With more than a hundred planes on Molokai and the planes of four supporting carriers, the Japanese air forces would smother the Americans.
“Now,” he muttered, “if only their fleet would come.”
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?”
