Two weeks? Now he had a time frame for whatever they were up to. “I’ll leave tonight. Who will I take with me?”
“Do you need anyone?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“Good,” she said, her smile even wider. “Jake thinks we’ll be short of men, so if you can go alone, that’d be swell.”
When she left, Charley hummed happily. He had just been handed a gift from above. He could leave and give the information to Goto and, if necessary, come back to this stinking little camp. The fact that they’d have to move quickly meant that it wasn’t going to be only an air raid. He could tell the obnoxious lieutenant that there was going to be an infantry attack on Hilo in conjunction with the air attack.
As Colonel Omori had predicted, Admiral Yamamoto had not been pleased with their efforts. He and Admiral Iwabachi had been summoned to the admiral’s flagship, the Yamato, and were seated with Yamamoto in a conference room. Outside, the might of Imperial Japan lay at anchor in a stunning array of battleships, carriers, cruisers, and destroyers. The population of Honolulu had stood by the tens of thousands and gaped at the awesome might of Japan. Now maybe some of the nervous fools, those who were upset by the death of that girl, and all the others would realize just who was going to win this war.
Yamamoto glared at both men. “I had expected to see a fully functioning port and naval facility,” he said through tight lips, “not this collection of ruins and rusting hulks.”
Iwabachi also contained his anger. “With profoundest respects, Admiral, then you should have seen to it that I received the resources to accomplish the task. Not even the best of carpenters can drive nails without a hammer. Tokyo gave me seven thousand men to control all these islands and to contain many thousands of prisoners. They gave me few mechanics and skilled workers, no equipment, and no food.”
“What about the American men and equipment?”
Iwabachi laughed harshly. “Despite orders to the contrary, much of the port facilities and material that had not been damaged in the fighting were destroyed by the Americans. We executed some of those responsible, of course, but it was too late. The damage had been done.
“We used the prisoners and civilian workers, but they were indifferent workers at best, and some even committed further acts of sabotage. Then, as a result of the food shortages, they weakened, which slowed progress even further. After a while they became useless, which is why I had the prisoners shipped to Japan. I was told that my priority was the repair of the fuel storage facilities, and that task has been fulfilled. Even now, fuel is being added to them from your tankers. Any other work done by us was to provide suitable living quarters and to repair the roads. And, of course, I had to resolve the food situation.”
Yamamoto tapped the fingers of his mangled hand on the table between them. What the arrogant junior admiral had said was correct. Tokyo had not been fully confident that Hawaii could be held, so it had not provided the wherewithal to do a proper job. The government emissaries who expected to see the annexation of a radiant jewel in the middle of the Pacific would be disappointed, but they would have to deal with that fact.
But his presence now meant that this situation would change. Only moments before, he had received confirmation that the American carriers were in the Atlantic, off Iceland, and preparing for an undetermined action against Germany. Exactly what they were up to didn’t concern him. He didn’t care if the Americans tried to cruise up the Rhine. His only concern was that they were far away from Hawaii.
The sole remaining Allied force of significance in the Pacific was a British squadron that had taken up a position in Australian waters in anticipation of a move in that direction by Japan. Yamamoto had sent a pair of old battleships, a small carrier, and a dozen heavy and light cruisers toward Australia to threaten it and further mask his move to Hawaii. Now it seemed that the effort had not been necessary. The Americans were gone. The Pacific was Japan’s. The world would soon know that the fleet was in Hawaiian waters, and Tokyo would shortly announce that the annexation would occur. Representatives from Nazi Germany, along with emissaries from several puppet and neutral nations, had accompanied the fleet.
“On Saturday, August first,” Yamamoto said, “the Hawaiian Islands will be proclaimed a province of Japan. That is only a week from now, which is not enough time to change matters. When the fleet departs, which will be within a couple of days after that, I will leave you sufficient resources to carry out the following tasks.
“First, the airfields at Hickam, Ewa, and Barbers must be repaired. Second, the shore batteries and antiaircraft installations must be reconstructed.”
“Will I receive additional forces to man them?” Iwabachi asked.
“Of course,” Yamamoto snapped. “Then I want the wrecks removed from the harbor.”
Iwabachi nodded. “It will take a tremendous effort to remove the carcasses of the sunken battleships. It was not something I attempted to do because, even with the best of resources, it would take an enormous amount of time and effort.”
This time Yamamoto agreed. “Which is why it is your last priority.” He turned to Omori. “The existence of the American guerrillas on Hawaii is repugnant. What will you do about it?”
“To be candid, Admiral, there is very little we can do. We know they have a radio and communicate regularly with California, but we have been unable to locate it. We cannot triangulate in such rugged terrain. Right now, we place it in an area of over a hundred square miles, which, given the harshness of the land, means we could march ten feet away from it and not see it. The same holds true with the guerrillas themselves. They can stay out there forever until I get sufficient troops to mount a series of massive sweeps that would wear them down and cut them off from their supply bases.”
Yamamoto had seen the Philippines and other areas of the Hawaiian Islands. He knew precisely what Omori’s problem was. American guerrillas were still active in the Philippines and even on the relatively small island of Guam. Only time would wear them down.
“You would need a division,” Yamamoto said. “It must wait. Are they capable of disrupting the annexation proceedings?”
“They might try something,” Omori said. “But they are only a handful and could do little more than cause an embarrassment. They would also have to transport themselves from Hawaii to Oahu, which I do not consider likely as it would be suicidal.”
There was no more to be said, and Yamamoto dismissed them. On the deck of the battleship, Omori spent a moment gazing at the splendor of the Japanese navy. He swelled with pride at the force that had humbled the Americans and taken this jewel from them.
Now all he had to do was ensure that what he’d told the revered admiral was correct. He would contact Goto and make certain that he was doing all that could be done to keep pressure on the American guerrillas. If anything happened, Omori was confident it would be near Hilo, where the Japanese garrison was relatively small, which made it a potentially tempting target. Only a raving idiot would think of attempting anything disruptive with the fleet in the harbor along with a brigade of infantry on troop transports. No, any move by the Americans would be at Hilo.
So why did he have the nagging feeling of doubt that something was going to go wrong? He would double and redouble his efforts to ensure that the ceremony went off without a hitch. After that, did he really care?
Alexa watched from behind a tree as Charley Finch headed off in the direction of Hilo. He was alone and carried some rations in a field pack, along with a rifle across his shoulder. He lumbered more than walked, and it was obvious that the sergeant was not in good shape. Too bad, she thought.
It would take Finch a couple of days to get to either Hilo or the farms he was supposed to visit, and a couple more to come back. If he came back. She wondered if he would actually visit the farms. Perhaps she had misjudged him. After all, there was nothing definitive to hang on him, just the very strong suspicion that there was more to Sergeant Charley Finch than there should be. If he came back and if he had completed his assignment, she would have a lot of her suspicions allayed. But not all of them. She could not get the photograph out of her mind. How had he gotten it?
Jake walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, massaging it gently. “Are you solving the problem?”
She felt his strength and drew from it. She pressed backward so that she was leaning against him. It was a very comforting feeling. What she was doing was so far removed from her previous life as a docile navy wife that it was terrifying. “Sure am, Jake.”
“We just got the word, Alexa. It’s going to be the early morning of August second.”
