Rising Sun

now consisted of only two carriers and escorts, while Nagumo’s southern force included five carriers. It was an imbalance that he would have to correct. He would send the carrier Zuikaku north in partial replacement for the two that had been damaged in the attack on San Francisco.

“I have radioed my apologies to the emperor for the disaster in Cook Inlet,” Yamamoto said. “Both he and Prime Minister Tojo were polite and consoling, but nothing can change the fact that Cook Inlet was the first defeat the Japanese Navy has suffered in modern times. Our only consolation is that the defeat is a minor one. No carriers or battleships were lost.”

“Our intelligence failed us,” Nagumo said. “No one expected two American battleships to suddenly appear so far north.”

“And without air cover,” Kurita added grimly.

It upset them that the Imperial Japanese Navy possessed overwhelming air superiority but hadn’t used it. Nor had the Americans used any of their air power, including their lone carrier, the Saratoga. They had sent their battleship force naked and vulnerable in an attack that was both bold and unexpected. For the Americans to not use their planes had been an act of desperation, for the Japanese to not use them was an act of stupidity. At least one carrier, even a small one, should have been sent to cover the relief force.

Yamamoto nodded. “We must accept the fact that the Americans are getting more aggressive. They have great numbers of planes protecting their major areas; therefore, we will not attack large cities again. Our planes and pilots are superior, but the Americans are good enough and can overwhelm our pilots by sheer weight of numbers. We will not directly challenge their air fleets again. There are more than enough smaller targets to satisfy our needs and make the Americans squeal. Nor will we use our carriers when we attack them. Instead, we will again use cruisers and destroyers, along with our submarines, to bombard them and bring pain to California and the northern coast.”

“Then what of the carriers?” Kurita asked. “I hope you’re not suggesting they stand idle.”

Yamamoto laughed bitterly. “While some of our carriers are looking for the Saratoga, the others will be in reserve and will hopefully be able to ambush overeager Americans.”

The other two admirals nodded their approval. Carriers and battleships were too valuable to waste in smaller skirmishes. Japanese battle doctrine called for the Japanese fleet to engage major enemy forces in a climactic battle that would end the war. There had been some hope that Pearl Harbor would have accomplished that, but the absence of American carriers there had dashed that hope. Later at Midway, when the American carriers had been sunk, hopes had risen that the Americans would see reason and negotiate an honorable end to the war, one that would see Japan keeping her conquests. Those hopes had ended in disappointment. The Americans were not ready to negotiate and were not going to come out and fight a great battle; therefore, the Japanese fleet must change its strategies.

Yamamoto continued. “I did not tell the emperor of our losses in the San Francisco attack. After all, we suffered no ships sunk even though the Akagi and Ryuju will be out of action for at least six months, probably longer. And we shot down nearly two hundred American planes, if our pilots can be believed.”

They all laughed. Even at this late date in the war and with almost all pilots being experienced, they were still prone to unintended exaggerations. For too many, any plane they fired on had to have been destroyed.

Yamamoto continued. “We lost seventy of our own planes and, of course, their pilots. That is roughly the equivalent of a fleet carrier’s entire flight crew. Replacement planes and pilots will be sent as soon as possible, of course, but it is doubtful that the pilots will be of the caliber of the men we lost. It does not help that our inventory of replacement planes is so small. We simply cannot produce enough planes to replace out losses.”

“Have we had any success in locating the Saratoga?” Kurita asked. Like so many of his contemporaries, Takeo Kurita was a battleship admiral, but he recognized the need to eliminate the one remaining American carrier. Yamamoto felt that Kurita was not totally a supporter of the war. Well, he had his own doubts as well.

Yamamoto laughed. “No, and perhaps she too is back in Shangri-La.”

The others laughed as well and then grew somber. “What about our forces in Alaska?” inquired Nagumo. “Admiral Hosogaya and the survivors of the defeat have joined with Colonel Yamasaki’s army forces and are moving toward the Alaskan city of Fairbanks.”

Yamamoto shook his head sadly. “For the time being they are on their own. The Americans are doubtless building airfields at several locations and will soon be able to bomb Yamasaki’s forces at will, as well as being able to inflict too much damage on any forces attempting to relieve or evacuate them. In short, our forces in Alaska are doomed. I have spoken with Prime Minister Tojo and he understands the situation. He is confident that Colonel Yamasaki and his men will fight on to the end as true Japanese warriors and will honor the code of bushido.”

Yamamoto scowled. “In the meantime, we must double and redouble our efforts to find that one remaining carrier. She and her escorts must be sunk if we are to continue with our position of strength. We must put pressure on all our intelligence resources to find her.”

More likely, he thought, she was no longer in the Pacific. He had to find out one way or the other. If the Saratoga had moved to the relative safety of the Atlantic, so be it. But if she was somewhere within striking range, she had to be destroyed, if only as a symbolic gesture.

CHAPTER 12

LIEUTENANT STEVE FARRIS WAS HOT, TIRED, AND DIRTY. AS A result of the train crash, the army’s duties had expanded to patrolling roads and railroad tracks, along with keeping track of who was using the beaches of the area. Some of his men wondered why, since it was announced that the crash was merely a tragic accident, but Farris knew better and some of his men suspected the truth. His uncle had quietly and confidentially told him that it had indeed been sabotage, and that there had been several other minor incidents as well. Nobody’d been hurt and damage had been minimal in the other incidents, and it was not definite that it had been the same person or persons as those who’d derailed the freight train.

Both the navy and the army decided that the rail lines would be patrolled, and a several-mile stretch of tracks was now the responsibility of Lytle’s recon company, with Farris’s platoon having its own section to patrol.

Farris initially thought he’d exercise his prerogatives as an officer and ride in a jeep while others actually walked the tracks in the hot sun, but two things changed his mind. First, the tracks did not run parallel to most roads, which meant that he would at times be a long ways from his men and, second, it didn’t seem right that he would be in relative comfort while his men hiked. Sometimes he thought it was hell to have both a conscience and a sense of responsibility. But if he didn’t, then he’d be just like his prick of a company commander.

Stecher was back at camp with one squad, while the third patrolled the beaches. Another reason for taking a hands-on approach was the fact that this squad’s leader, Sergeant Adamski, was a tall raw-boned kid from Chicago who’d recently gotten his third stripe. Farris wanted to see how the young buck sergeant operated with a number of men, many of whom were older than he was. So far, so good, he thought. Nobody seemed to be taking advantage of the young sergeant.

Farris let Adamski take the lead while he brought up the rear. It was a pleasant though warm day and the scenery was pretty. As tail end, he could dawdle and enjoy the view as well as observe his men. The sun was shining brightly, so the mountains in the distance could be seen clearly. One of these days he thought he’d like to go hiking or camping up one of them. The only times he’d slept in a tent were while bivouacking during basic and OCS, and that hadn’t been fun at all. He’d only fished a couple of times in his life and thought he might like to try that as well. Then he thought that cleaning and cooking fish might be a little more than he wished to take on.

Farris also thought it would be nice to camp out with a real live girl and maybe both get naked in a sleeping bag. Maybe she would even clean and cook the fish he would catch. Damn, it had been a long time since he’d even talked to an attractive and single young woman. He thought it funny that the enlisted men were certain that young officers like him got all the women they could handle.

Sure. The army was sexless and monastic, and he was in command of forty horny young guys, including