carriers, possibly more, in the vicinity of Oahu. Identification of the carriers they were from might come from interrogating shot-down pilots if any had survived, but it was almost irrelevant. Such knowledge would not come from Japanese floatplanes and flying boats. They were patrolling, but they were vulnerable and would be shot down by the next wave of attackers.
Yamamoto still had two carriers and the rest of the surface fleet intact. Several of those ships had sustained hits, but nothing severe. In particular, the Yamato had been struck by a pair of bombs and seemed to have brushed off the damage. If the remaining portion of the fleet could sortie out and do battle with the Americans, at least some of the shame could be washed away.
The attempt to remove the Akagi must be accelerated, despite the risks. The Americans would be returning to their floating bases to refuel and rearm. They would be back in the harbor in a matter of hours. Japanese gunners would put up a stout defense, but it was a given that bombers would get through to the ships if there were no planes to impede them. Thus, it was also true that each ship damaged or sunk reduced the number of Japanese guns, which made it easier for the attackers to get through the next time. It was, he mused, a spiral into hell. It had to be broken before the rest of the Japanese fleet was pounded to pieces.
But how had the American carriers appeared off Oahu at this precise time? Was German intelligence so slipshod as to mistake the presence of the Americans off Iceland? Or had the Germans betrayed their Asian allies to their white counterparts? Yamamoto decided he would write down his thoughts and have the message sent to Tokyo.
And how had the Americans known so far in advance as to be able to place their ships and planes in such an advantageous position? There were only three options: Treason, espionage, and the breaking of the Japanese codes. Of the three, he considered espionage the most likely. There were far too many people in Hawaii who had known in advance of his arrival. The information could have been stolen from them and sent to the United States via those damned guerrillas on Hawaii. That a Japanese citizen could have betrayed his country in favor of the Americans was unthinkable. So too was the idea that the Japanese codes had been broken.
At least the Americans on the Big Island would be eliminated. Colonel Omori had given his assurances in that regard.
CHAPTER 25
Lieutenant Goto was exhausted. It had been a long time since he’d been out in the field, and he was definitely out of shape. But at last they were driving the Americans before them like the animals they were.
Goto heard a noise and turned around. Captain Kashii had hacked the head off an American corpse. Kashii took the head and put it on the hood of his truck.
“Interesting hood ornament, isn’t it?” the captain asked with a cackle. “Not as exquisite as a Rolls-Royce’s, but it satisfies me.”
“Indeed,” said Goto. Kashii’s action confirmed Goto’s opinion that the disaster at Pearl Harbor had deranged the captain. Instead of being aggressive, Kashii’s actions had been wild and irrational. For instance, why did he insist on the troops returning to the trucks even for small advances? They had been ambushed while in such vulnerable columns, although the attacks seemed to have stopped since the last couple of marines had been killed.
The American marine Kashii had beheaded had been captured barely alive but had died while Goto was trying to extract information from him. From his papers, they learned that he’d been an officer. A shame he hadn’t told them anything.
They’d been able to get information from the local population fairly easily. The short trail from Hilo was littered with scores of dead and dying Hawaiians, whose agonies had motivated others to talk freely. Several villages, swollen with people who’d fled Hilo, were nearby, and the occupants had been easy to terrorize. As a result, they were closing in on the handful of Americans who remained on the loose. There weren’t more than a dozen left, and there were still more than three hundred Japanese chasing them. The end was inevitable. He only hoped that this Novacek would be captured alive, along with the woman who had so angered Colonel Omori.
Of course, some of the guerrillas would have scattered, but they would be found in short order. When it was over, Goto and Kashii could return to Hilo, although Goto wondered just what they’d be returning to. If the bad news coming from Pearl was even remotely correct, Japan was in danger of losing the Hawaiian Islands.
Goto thought this was almost beyond credibility. Japan did not go to war to be defeated. What had happened? It had to be betrayal, and it had to have come from the Americans they were chasing. If Japan was forced to quit Hawaii for a short while, it would not be the fault of the military.
Gunfire in the distance grabbed Goto’s attention. “We’ve caught them,” Kashii shrieked and waved his bloody sword in a circle around his head. “Back to the trucks, we’ll circle behind them.”
Goto wondered at the logic of the move. The Americans were only a mile or two away. They should be pressed by men on the ground, not by soldiers in trucks driving over harsh terrain that caused the column to stretch out at times and pile up at others. On the land they were traversing, men in trucks moved more slowly than men on foot. Using trucks for the pursuit would give the small American force a chance to squeeze away and delay the inevitable.
But then Goto saw the irrational glint in Kashii’s eyes. No, the lieutenant decided, he would not attempt to discuss tactical or logistical matters with a lunatic waving a sword.
In the two days since the first American attacks, wave upon wave of fighters and dive-bombers had hurled themselves at the bottled-up Japanese fleet. American bombs and bullets found a wealth of targets trapped in the harbor and unable to maneuver. And they steadily destroyed both ships and the antiaircraft defenses that remained. Thus, with each succeeding attack, the Japanese navy had less with which to defend itself.
In a frenzy, Admiral Yamamoto focused everything on moving the hulk of the Akagi. In only a short while, there would be nothing left of his fleet. He had waited too long, and now all six of his carriers were lying in the mud of Pearl Harbor. Fortunately, he thought with some irony, two had sunk upright in shallow water, which deceived the Americans into thinking they were still afloat. As a result, he still had two of his four battleships, the Yamato and the Kongo, while the Americans concentrated on re-sinking the dead carriers.
The old battleship Haruna had been sunk, and the Yamato’s sister ship, the Musashi, had suffered a truly ignominious fate. In an effort to pull the Akagi out of the channel, she had been used as a tug, and the exertions, combined with an inexperienced crew, had resulted in a blown engine plant. If and when the remainder of the Japanese fleet managed to sortie, the Musashi would be scuttled. In the meantime, she would function as a floating battery.
Along with the two battleships, there remained four heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and a dozen destroyers. All of the ships were damaged but seaworthy and would put up a fight. All he had to do was get them out of Pearl Harbor before they too were destroyed.
The fighting had not been totally one-sided. There were far fewer American planes in the air; Japanese gunners had exacted a heavy price before being destroyed.
The eighteen-inch guns of the Yamato and the immobile Musashi had fired over land and into the approaching American fleet. They had all gained a measure of satisfaction when the Musashi sank a Brooklyn-class light cruiser that had ventured too close. However, it did not stop the American battleships and heavy cruisers from steaming close in at night and lofting shells into the harbor as their damned planes dropped flares and called the fall of shot.
The drawn-out battle reminded Yamamoto of a prizefight where both boxers were exhausted but only one had the strength to hurl punches and the other had no means of resistance. Both had been bloodied, but only one would soon be standing.
He had been informed that there would be no attempt at relief. The decoy fleet off Australia was both too small and too far away. The Japanese in Pearl Harbor had to escape or die.
There was a knock on his office door. He was still ashore as he saw no point in being aboard his flagship, which was under frequent attack.
“Come in.”
Commander Shigura Fujii, his chief of intelligence, entered hesitantly. It should have been his friend
