“What do you think of our orders, Pete?”
He shrugged. “Ours not to reason why?”
They had discussed them numerous times. Spruance was to do battle, but only if the circumstances were right, and he was not to take any undue risks. The navy would make their move only if Operation Wasp was successful.
But how would they know it was successful? What if the Japs located the radio transmitter on Hawaii and knocked it out? What if Wasp was successful and no one could relay the information in a coherent manner?
Wasp was warfare on a shoestring, and every one of the few people involved in it could be killed and the operation still be successful. It would be tragic if his fleet was in the middle ocean awaiting word that would not come in time to use it. An opportunity bought with American blood would be lost because he would not permit “undue risk.”
“What would happen if we lost this battle?” Spruance asked.
“I don’t think about defeat.”
“I forgot,” Spruance said drily. “But indulge me. What would happen if this fleet were destroyed?”
“We’d replace it and the navy would replace us. Hell, we’ve got more than a dozen fleet carriers under construction right now, and it hurts my head to think of how many battleships, cruisers, and destroyers we’ll have in another year or so. It’d be tough, but we’ve the resources to make good any losses.”
“So I’m not Jellicoe, am I?”
Admiral John Rushworth Jellicoe had commanded the Royal Navy at Jutland in the previous war and was the subject of many naval studies. Jutland was the largest naval battle in world history to date, but Jellicoe had been acutely aware that Britain had no backup fleet and defeat by the Germans would turn the oceans over to their mortal enemy. Britain would then be blockaded and starved. Britain would have to sue for peace.
Jellicoe knew that he alone could lose the war in a single afternoon. Britain could not make good on her losses; thus, Jellicoe had been quite content to let the Germans return to their bases after an inconclusive battle.
“You’re right, Admiral,” Mitscher said softly, “you’re not Jellicoe. If anybody’s in that position, it’d be Yamamoto. He’s got just about all the navy Japan has and just about all she’ll ever have. Japan cannot replace her losses in any significant manner.”
“So why are we being so cautious, and how would you now define undue risk?”
Mitscher grinned. “I’d define it a lot more loosely than some people.”
Without putting it in so many words, their orders strongly implied that the American task force should not even begin to move northward unless Operation Wasp was successful. Even under the best of circumstances, that meant the Americans could not arrive within range of Oahu for two to three days after the critical morning of August 2.
“I think we should give ourselves a head start,” Spruance said. “I think we should be ready to pounce on them as soon as we can. If Wasp works, I don’t want the Japs to have a couple of days to solve their problems. I want to hit them hard and fast, and before they know what’s happening to them.”
Mitscher almost felt like purring. “Excellent.”
Spruance and Mitscher walked to the bridge and looked out on the ships that surrounded the Hornet. “We’ll divide the force into two groups. The carriers, the fast battleships, and other ships that can maintain speed will be in the van. The old battleships, slower cruisers, and supply ships will bring up the rear. That way, if we’re wrong and all the Japs in Hawaii start chasing us, the old and slow ships will have a head start. Maybe some of them can get away.”
Mitscher visualized Jap ships erupting from Pearl Harbor like angry bees or wasps from a hive. The Japanese had enough power to overwhelm the entire task force, not to mention a divided one. Spruance was going to divide an inferior force in the face of a superior enemy. Who the hell said he was too cautious? If events didn’t work out, Spruance would have put the entire fleet at risk of being sunk.
But what if the Japs couldn’t get out of their hive? Mitscher thought that would be the irony of Operation Wasp. Spruance was right. Brave men were going to put their lives on the line in an outrageous attempt to stop the Japs. Being prepared for the results of their efforts was the least they could do.
The captain’s wrinkled face split wide with a grin. “Then let’s us get this fleet moving.”
Lieutenant Goto felt like spitting in the face of Sergeant Charley Finch. Goto believed that using turncoats and traitors like Finch brought dishonor to Japan’s warrior race. He sometimes thought that defeat with honor would be preferable to victory aided by scum like Finch.
However, Finch had brought important news. Goto and Captain Kashii had been surprised and impressed by the audacious American plan to attack Hilo. Now they would be prepared and would inflict a stinging defeat on the Americans. Along with being prepared to repulse the minor aerial attack, Kashii would send two companies of infantry on trucks to where the plane or planes were based.
For his part, Finch considered his work done. He had no desire to return to the American base camp. He wished to get laid and get rich, in that order. He made it clear that both Omori and Goto owed him a lot.
“That disgusting snail,” Kashii snarled after Finch had left them. “He expects to be treated like a lord when he should have his head cut off and shoved up his ass.”
Goto laughed. “I wonder how he’d like the view.”
Both men had been drinking homemade liquor to pass an otherwise dull afternoon and had added a couple more drinks to celebrate their new find. They weren’t drunk, but the raw booze had loosened many of their inhibitions. Finch was out getting screwed by one of the local whores. He’d wanted a white woman but decided to settle for what was available, which wasn’t much.
“I am quite certain that Colonel Omori has an interesting end in store for Sergeant Finch,” Goto said. “Perhaps even something like what you have in mind. Personally, I would like to see him cut to little pieces and forced to watch while pigs eat his living flesh.”
“I like that idea,” Kashii said and lumbered to his feet.
Outside, Sergeant Charley Finch stood frozen in horror. His hand was scant inches from the knob. He’d gotten his ashes hauled real fast by an ugly whore and wanted to talk some more with Goto. He still wasn’t fluent in Japanese, but he understood what Goto and Kashii were saying well enough to get that he was going to be betrayed by the Japs. Any thoughts of a reward were now gone. He had to be concerned with his survival.
Finch thought quickly. Now what? There was no other choice. He would leave Hilo and return to the Americans. On his way, he would alert the farmers, just like he was supposed to do. He would return to Novacek’s band with his mission completed and be in good standing with them. Kashii and Goto would doubtless send troops against the air base, but that could be blamed on something else. He knew he was clutching at straws, but that was all that was available. Damn! How could things have gotten so fucked up so quickly?
He would be in tremendous danger if the Americans got hold of Jap records and found out he’d been a spy. But that was a bridge to be crossed in the future. Right now, Charley Finch was concerned about staying alive for the next few days.
Maybe he could destroy the records. No, that was unlikely. Maybe he could convince the Americans that he was playing a double game and doing it for America.
Yeah. He grinned as he slipped off into the darkness and out of Hilo. That was it. He could still come out of this mess a hero.
August 1, 1942, had been an emotional drain for Colonel Omori. On his head rested the security of the island of Oahu during the visit by the fleet and Japan’s dignitaries. He was exhausted by the need to keep his emotions under control. It wasn’t every day that Japan annexed a new province and declared a new land to be a part of Nippon. But it had happened, and the ceremony had gone off without a hitch. After hours of boring speeches, several thousand native Japanese and Hawaiians who had gathered for them had applauded tepidly and wandered off. Several hundred had been invited to a lavish reception that featured foods unseen on the islands for several months. Most showed up, but many others did not bother to attend, which disturbed both Omori and Admiral Iwabachi. Admiral Yamamoto, the guest of honor, apparently did not notice or chose to ignore the slight.
Toyoza and Akira Kaga attended, but Akira left early. He said his leg was bothering him, and this was accepted as an obvious truth. Before he left, Omori introduced the younger man to Admiral Yamamoto. Akira appeared properly awed, and the admiral was deferential to the maimed young warrior.
