Doolittle felt like jumping in the air. “Fantastic! Now, sir, when do you want me to be ready?”
Nimitz smiled benignly. “Yesterday.”
Commander Mitsuo Fuchida greeted his old friend Minoru Genda with heartfelt warmth as they met in what had been the officers’ club of Wheeler Field, out by Schofield Barracks. After they’d exchanged pleasantries and treated each other to a drink, Genda brought up the reason for the meeting.
“Fuchida, you have done a marvelous job of, first, reducing the American forces on Oahu and, second, rebuilding this devastated base. May I assume that all your planes and pilots have been transferred from Molokai?”
“You may, indeed. The fields at Molokai have been dynamited, which makes them useless for anyone else, although they could be rebuilt fairly quickly. I must admit, I am not comfortable with so many potential airstrips so close to Oahu and no one watching over them.”
Genda agreed. “Unfortunately, our resources are stretched thin. However, you are flying patrols over all the islands, aren’t you?”
“Of course. But with only sixty planes at my disposal, I have only a handful on overland patrols at any given time. I am afraid that most of what goes on in the islands is unseen by my men.”
Fuchida was forced to divide his air resources among ocean patrols, which were deemed more critical because they looked for carriers; anti-sub duty off the entrance to Pearl Harbor; overland patrols; and the maintenance required to keep the planes in the air. At least a third of his planes were being serviced at all times. In the event of an attack, he was confident almost all of them would rise to fight, but the situation stretched his current overland patrols thin, too thin, in his estimation. “You know, Genda, I lost nearly a hundred pilots taking Oahu,” he said.
“A high price,” Genda said solemnly. The hundred pilots were equivalent to the flying crews of two carriers. Replacements were arriving, but they did not appear to be of the same quality as those killed, and this fact made both men uncomfortable.
Genda brightened. “At any rate, I have good news for you. Your work here is done. You are needed with the fleet.”
“Marvelous.” Fuchida could barely contain his enthusiasm.
“Nagumo is taking the carriers south through the Coral Sea to Port Moresby. He hopes to lure the Americans to battle and inflict a crushing defeat. He has been told that you are the best man to command all the fighters.”
Fuchida inhaled deeply. It was an enormous honor. “I will do my best.”
Genda clapped his friend on the shoulder, a most un-Japanese gesture of camaraderie. “Your best will be more than sufficient, my friend. We hope, a thrust toward Australia will knock both them and New Zealand out of the war and secure our southern flank. After that, we can destroy the British in the Indian Ocean if the remainder of the Americans won’t fight. Perhaps,” he said solemnly, “it will end the war.”
Fuchida shook his head. Perhaps had been said too many times. “I am not that confident. I saw how desperately the Americans fought to keep this place, and I do not think they will let the loss of Australia, or even several of their carriers, deter them. Do you know there are still Americans active and fighting on the other islands?”
Genda was surprised. “I had no idea.”
Fuchida laughed harshly. “It’s not something that either Admiral Iwabachi or Colonel Omori wants publicized. Just the other day a patrol was ambushed and wiped out on Hawaii, only a few hours away from Hilo, and we can do nothing about it. We know that there is a great deal of clandestine radio activity, which we cannot pin down, and every third sailor on the food ships must be a spy, regardless of nationality. Frankly, my friend, I would not doubt that our conversation will be reported to Washington tomorrow.”
Genda laughed nervously. Was the man serious? They were virtually alone in a large room. Native Hawaiians made up the serving staff, and there was a sprinkling of American Negroes working in the kitchens along with other Hawaiians. These were civilians who had worked at the base before the war and professed no love for the United States, which had treated them harshly. No, Fuchida had to be kidding. “It can’t be that bad,” Genda said.
“It isn’t,” Fuchida responded, “but it’s bad enough. You do know that we are not getting the full support of the Japanese community here, don’t you, and the Hawaiians are almost totally unresponsive? We’ve been here for almost five months, and there’s been no official clarification of our long-term policy regarding the islands, and the Japanese and Hawaiian people who would be our allies are beginning to worry and wonder.”
The two men rose and stepped outside. The Hawaiian sun had bathed the lush green land in brightness. Even the scars of the recent battles looked cleansed and unthreatening. With the low mountains as a backdrop, it should have been a vision evocative of the grace and elegance of Japan itself. Instead, it had taken on a sinister, hostile appearance, with the mountains looking like so many rows of sharks’ teeth.
“You ask about our policies? I sometimes wonder if we have one,” Genda said.
“We are a long way from making this place our own,” Fuchida responded. “I sometimes wonder if we will have the time.”
Lieutenant Goto stood at attention before Colonel Omori and Admiral Iwabachi, and looked at his two superiors with studied insolence. He knew he was the son of an important man and had far more political pull than either of the senior officers who glowered at him. He had nothing to fear.
Omori shook his head in disbelief. “I cannot believe you would be so stupid, Goto, as to perpetuate what is a near uprising among the Japanese community. I gave my word that the girl would not be harmed and you went and fucked her and, worse, turned her over to your men. Now she is dead, the woman I wanted to serve as my mistress has disappeared, and the Japanese community is outraged. Is it possible that you are incapable of thinking beyond your prick?”
“I only did what a soldier should do with a captive woman, Colonel,” Goto said unrepentantly. “The people who are claiming she was pure-bred Japanese are lying. The girl was certainly part Japanese, but she was a mongrel with Hawaiian and American blood, which makes her less than nothing. There is no reason for anyone to get excited.”
“I am concerned that you disobeyed an order,” Iwabachi snarled. “I have only a few thousand men to govern these entire islands, and I depend on the goodwill of the Asian people to do that. Whether she was a mongrel or not, many people believe that she was Japanese and that you caused her death.”
Goto’s response was almost a sneer. “I did not force her to walk into the ocean, sir. That was her own stupid idea. So she got fucked, so what? Every woman will get it sooner or later.”
Iwabachi was a terrier of a man, considered a fanatic by many. His faith in all that was Japanese was absolute, and he prayed for the honor of dying for his emperor. At a different time and place, the admiral would have been sympathetic to Goto’s position. Today, however, he had an unruly set of islands to govern. He decided to play his trump card.
“Lieutenant, the girl’s last name was Ozawa. It is being said that she was distantly related to our Admiral Ozawa, even though she was a mongrel.”
For the first time, Goto looked uncertain. Admiral Ozawa commanded the naval detachments in action against Indonesia and Malaya, and was considered the logical successor to the revered Yamamoto, should anything happen to him.
“It can’t be,” Goto said without conviction. “I don’t even think that’s her last name. It was Ogawa, not Ozawa. We must refute the lie.”
Omori did not quite agree. “That is too simple. Refuting a rumor often does nothing but give it credence. Like many rumors, it will have a life of its own. We can only wait for time to cause it to die down. In the meantime, you must go. I am assigning you to command the kempetei detachment on the island of Hawaii, at Hilo. There are guerrillas loose on the island, and your task is to find them and destroy them.”
Goto bowed and sighed in some relief. His punishment would be a minor one, and the banishment to Hilo would only be temporary. Besides, while there he would have the opportunity for glory and independent command, and there had to be very young women in Hilo. It could have been a lot worse. It was good to have clout.
“And who besides the southern congressmen support this incredible idea?” President Roosevelt asked as he shook his head in disbelief.
“General DeWitt,” said General Marshall.
