“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.
CHAPTER 10
Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” The voice sounded tinny over the intercom, but it got everyone’s attention. “Weather and the Japanese permitting, we will be departing momentarily. The smoking lamp is off and will not be lit. We will be flying at two hundred miles an hour, at a height of six inches, and this is the first time I’ve ever flown anything this large.”
Joe Collins shifted uncomfortably. “Another unemployed comedian. I’ll have him shot when we get to California.”
The voice on the intercom was unperturbed. “Seriously, folks, my name is Lieutenant Commander Meagher, and I’ve flown this plane for years for Pan Am as well as being part of the Navy Reserve. You’re on a Boeing Model 314 flying boat, and we have a range of just under four thousand miles, which should get us to California with no fuel problems. Under civilian conditions, we could carry a crew of eight and seventy-four passengers, and even sleep forty of them in bunks. As we are no longer civilians and have been designated the C-98, we now have a crew of only four, which means you can get your own damned coffee. We have fifty-one passengers plus all their equipment. Our cruising speed is 184 miles an hour, and we are 2,300 miles from San Francisco, so you can do your own math and determine the length of the flight. Oh yeah, the heads don’t work.”
“I really am going to kill him,” said Collins.
“We will be flying extremely low in order to avoid detection, so keep your windows closed and you won’t get wet. And, for those of you who were expecting a nonstop flight, sorry, but we will be landing on the Big Island to let off some passengers.”
“That’s us,” Jake muttered from his seat beside Collins. Behind him, Sergeant Will Hawkins and eleven other men acknowledged the obvious in silence.
Jake had just met Hawkins, a rangy young man in his mid-twenties who exuded quiet confidence and
