To Wake the Giant

by Jeff Shaara

  “How long do we have, Iso?”

  “We leave for Saeki Bay very soon. I will be informed when Admiral Ugaki has made preparations. I am so sorry to put you through the journey here. I will make it up to you, I promise. How was the train?”

  “I had a sleeping car. That is very rare for a woman. Someone surely thought I was important.”

  “Someone was correct.”

  There was a soft knock outside the steel hatch, and Yamamoto said, “Yes?”

  “Sir, very sorry to bother you, but Admiral Ugaki wishes you to know that we shall be under way in two hours.”

  “Thank you. Tell the admiral I acknowledge his message.”

  He looked at her again, the silk of her dress, realized she was standing taller than he was.

  “Chiyoko, if you please. You may remove your shoes.”

  AIRCRAFT CARRIER AKAGI, SAEKI BAY, JAPAN—MONDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1941

  He stood in the blustery winds, the flight deck of the carrier lined with more than a hundred men, a mix of officers and many of the senior commanders who would lead the flying squadrons and others who would carry out more details of the plans that he and his officers had designed. He waited, no one speaking, all eyes on him.

  “I do not have a written speech for you. You are beyond that. The admirals, the men who argued and debated and added and subtracted…those men no longer have meaning to you. What matters now is the heart of this crew, these officers, these pilots. You are going a very long way to accomplish a very difficult mission. It is possible that you will find the path to be without resistance, that we will have achieved the kind of surprise we have hoped for. It is also possible that you will have to fight your way to reach the enemy targets, that they will be expecting us.

  “In our history, Japan has faced many powerful enemies—Mongols, Russians, Chinese—but the enemy we will now encounter is the strongest and most resourceful of all. Many of our citizens, and possibly many of you, believe that the Americans are a weak and decadent people. Do not embrace that fallacy. Our goal is to strike, and strike hard, to damage and cripple and kill that powerful foe. But that will not end the war that we seek. It is never that simple, and we must be prepared for whatever follows.”

  He paused, saw men glancing at each other. “My opponent in this encounter is named Admiral Kimmel. He is a junior grade admiral, and yet he was appointed to command their Pacific fleet. He is surely able, gallant, and brave, and you may be certain that he will put up a courageous fight. It is the custom of the Bushido for the warrior to choose an equal or stronger opponent. On this score, you have no complaint. The American navy is a good match for us. Embrace that.”

  He paused again, scanned the faces. “I have heard it said that a surprise assault such as we are doing here lacks honor. I have heard that a warrior must stand in front of his enemy and challenge on equal ground. There are those, some in Tokyo, others perhaps on this ship, who would believe that Japan and the United States should be like two sumo wrestlers, equal in size and strength, standing chest to chest, that what we are planning against Hawaii is not…proper. I do not agree. Secrecy and deception in war is often how one wins that war. And it is my preference that we win this fight.

  “I will let others judge if we fought with honor. But I will judge you right now. I know how you have trained, I know how much work all of you have done, and I know the dedication you have for completing this mission. If I was a younger man, and I had the skills of the pilot, I would be in a plane, joining you in the attack. And so, I leave it to the younger men here to guide you. I will shake every hand upon your return. And the emperor will salute you. I wish you success, a safe voyage home, and the blessings of God.”

  He didn’t hesitate, walked over to the flight leader, Commander Fuchida, held out his hand. He saw tears in Fuchida’s eyes, the man’s hand in his now. Yamamoto bowed slowly, his final salute. There was nothing left to say.

  * * *

  —

  The submarines were the first to leave, slipping out to sea on November 18. Five of them carried the midget craft strapped to their hulls. Each of the odd craft carried a pair of torpedoes and were manned by two crewmen. Those men understood that their journey was most likely one-way.

  By the next day, the rest of the submarines had begun their journey, some of them to positions around Hawaii, some going even farther, between Hawaii and the West Coast of the United States. Their captains knew that when the war began in earnest, the submarines would seek targets, whether warships or any other craft with an American flag.

  As Yamamoto returned to his flagship Nagato, he stayed in radio contact with the fleet for as long as the radios were functioning. But as scheduled, those radios soon went silent. For the next few days, the ships designated as the combined fleet moved out of seaports scattered all over Japan. With no fanfare or any public notice, they made their way north. They would make their rendezvous in the Kurile Islands, Hitokappu Bay, far to the north, and far from the eyes of even their own citizens.

  By November 23, the ships had crowded into Hitokappu Bay, cruisers and battleships, destroyers and the tankers that would keep them all running. But of the thirty-three ships, the greatest attention was paid to the six aircraft carriers, a full complement of planes on each one. Of the vast quantities of supplies and armament, there was one cargo that held the attention of Commander Genda. As the crates were brought aboard carrier Akagi, he anxiously examined the contents, breathlessly aware that this might decide the success or futility of the mission. To Genda’s relief, the quantity matched the promises, the ship’s crew going to work to install the new equipment, the torpedo modifiers, the oddly simple pieces that would allow the torpedoes to run in shallow water.

  ONBOARD BATTLESHIP NAGATO, IWAKUNI, JAPAN—TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1941

  It was even earlier than usual for him to be awake; the only crew Yamamoto saw were the men of the night watch. He had gone first to the bridge, acknowledged a guard, then back down the ladders, wandering through one of the massive gun turrets. He was outside again now, walking slowly along the rail on the main deck, his hand hopping along the steel cable. He looked to the east, saw only the first hint of sunrise, shivered, though he wore his coat. I should be sleeping, he thought. No, I shouldn’t. I can’t anyway, even if I wanted to. I need tea. No, sake perhaps. No, don’t be a fool. He stopped, debated what to do next, turned, walked back along the rail, saw faint lights from the town, the early risers, thought, Workers perhaps, starting their day. He looked down to the water, wondered if there were fisherman. Well, of course there are. You eat their fish, don’t you? All right, maybe you should go back up to the bridge. The captain should be awake, and he will have tea. Perhaps there, you will find some calm.

  “Sir?”

  “What?”

  His response burst out with more volume than he intended. He was surprised to see Kuroshima, the man engulfed by the smoke and the smell of his cigarette.

  “Sir, I didn’t mean to startle you. Very sorry. Admiral Ugaki is searching for you. I thought you might be out here. I rather like the dark before dawn.”

  “Why is he looking for me?” It was too loud again, but Yamamoto made no apology, waited for the response, an agonizing second.

  “Sir, the radio signal has come in, as you requested. I am honored to convey the message to you that the fleet has left Hitokappu Bay and has put to sea. It has begun, sir.”

  Yamamoto turned toward the dawn, felt his heart racing, said, “Yes. It has begun.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hull

  THE STATE DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D.C.—THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1941

  As promised, Hull delivered the American counterproposals for the president’s approval within twenty-four hours of rejecting the Japanese ultimatum. With Roosevelt’s approval, Hull immediately presented the terms of his new proposals to Nomura and Kurusu. Hull’s ten points
specified the demands and concessions that he had outlined to the president the day before.

  Chief among the points were that Japan withdraw its troops from China, as well as Southeast Asia. Hull intended that to be a necessary message to America’s allies all over the world that the president would not sacrifice any nation just to appease Japan. Hull also proposed that Japan withdraw from her alliance with Germany, canceling the Tripartite Pact. Through Magic intercepts and other intelligence data, Washington already knew that the Japanese were uncomfortable with that alliance, and that Germany, embroiled in its invasion of the Soviet Union, had little confidence that Japan would offer any substantial assistance. Add to that the air of mutual distrust between the two widely diverse cultures, and Hull believed that the Japanese might welcome the opportunity to pull out of the alliance.

  The proposals also included offers to resume trade relations, to eliminate the oil embargo, to support the sagging value of the Japanese yen, and to take other measures to compensate Japan for the loss of resources that she might otherwise take from the weaker nations in the southern Pacific.

  As Hull expected, Kurusu had little optimism that the ten-point proposal would be welcomed in Tokyo, though he assured Hull that it would be communicated by telephone to his superiors. This level of urgency suggested to Hull that the Japanese were actually intending a serious response. But to his frustrated disappointment, the face-to-face meeting the next day produced nothing more than the usual smiles and pleasant conversation, punctuated by the regrets of the two Japanese officials that the terms were unacceptable. The explanation offered by Kurusu was a simple definition of the obvious cultural divide between Japan and the United States. To the Japanese, control and occupation of China, Korea, and any other nation or territory along the Pacific basin was their destiny; the utter inferiority of so many other cultures made that imperative.

  Hull could sense that Nomura was not completely comfortable with that kind of absolute justification for going to war, but Hull could plainly see that the ambassador no longer had the authority, beyond his title, to negotiate anything. As he sat beside Nomura, Kurusu was unabashedly in charge, doing most of the talking. And, Kurusu again gave Hull pleasantly worded assurances that the Japanese government would give serious consideration to any additional proposals Hull might offer. But he had heard that before.

  THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D.C.—THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1941

  The call had been urgent, the president’s aide insisting that Hull make the short journey from the State Department as quickly as possible.

  The marine guard stood aside, Roosevelt’s aide peering into the Oval Office, then back out.

  “You may go in, Mr. Secretary.”

  Hull stepped inside, found Roosevelt rifling through a thick stack of papers, a cigarette jammed into the tight clench in his jaw.

  “Sit, Cordell.”

  Hull didn’t like seeing the president in this kind of foul mood, had been concerned about Roosevelt’s health for some time. There was nothing specific, no illness that anyone had diagnosed. But Hull had known him for too many years not to notice that the kind of stress Roosevelt was under had seemed to weaken him.

  He sat, waited, wanted to offer something lighthearted, a joke about the mountains of papers, but the president seemed too angry. He attacked the paperwork with a pen, violently scribbling his signature. Hull sat quietly, his eyes drifting around the office, and suddenly Roosevelt said, “Stimson called you.”

  It was not a question, and Hull said, “Yes, sir. This morning. Asked me where we were with the Japanese.”

  “I know what he asked you. I know what you told him. I know exactly what those sons of bitches are trying to do.”

  Hull wasn’t sure how to respond, said, “If you mean talk and more talk, yes. They tell us what they want, and we’re supposed to give it to them. We tell them what we want and they toss that in our faces.”

  “So, I guess you haven’t been briefed. Good. Some people still know how to keep their mouths shut around here. I wanted you to hear this from me.”

  Hull felt a jab of alarm. “Hear what, sir?”

  Roosevelt shoved the paperwork to one side, still obviously angry. “Our intelligence people in Southeast Asia and the Philippines have verified that, while we were playing patty-cake with that pair of weasels, the Japanese launched a series of transport ships, stuffed with troops, sailing southward from Japan. Their intention, so we believe, is to invade the Malay Peninsula, and most likely the Philippines. There could be other targets as well, but those are the ones we’re most concerned about, obviously. The British are scrambling to reinforce Singapore as we speak. We still anticipate an additional invasion force to move northward to the Soviet seaports. Hate to leave the Russians out of the party.”

  “So, that’s why the secretary of war called me.”

  “Well, we can’t slip anything past you.” Roosevelt paused. “Sorry. I’ve got no reason to jump down your throat. But there’s a beehive of activity going on right now in the War Department, and not just with Stimson. He’s been huddled with the whole gang there all day. They are putting together a serious communiqué going out to the primary Pacific commands. Admiral Kimmel is commander of the whole theater, Admiral Hart’s in the Philippines with MacArthur. General Short commands the army units in Hawaii, Admiral Bloch the naval base. You know the chief of naval operations, Admiral Stark?”

  “Yes, sir. Betty.”

  Roosevelt shook his head. “Makes it hard to take him seriously sometimes. Some people think he chose the nickname, but I think I started it. The admiral is a direct descendant of the Revolutionary War general John Stark. There’s some legend or myth or whatever about him going into battle and calling out the name of his wife. Her name was Molly, I think. Somewhere it got changed to Betty, and the admiral must have liked it, so he never changed it back. I rather thought it fit him, so he’s been ‘Betty’ for a long time now. He doesn’t seem to mind, and I like it better than Harold. Anyway, Stark is putting together a war-warning letter to the naval commands, and they’ll be instructed to pass it along to the army. This will damn sure put everybody on their toes, all over the Pacific. If the Japs hit the Philippines, as it seems they’re planning to do, Admiral Hart and General MacArthur should be ready to give them a hell of a welcome.”

  Hull absorbed Roosevelt’s mood, the urgency suddenly shifting direction from all the empty talk with the Japanese to something very much more serious.

  “Is there anything else you want me to do? Ambassador Nomura is still willing to discuss all of this, I’m certain. Kurusu…I’m not really interested in what he’s got to say. He might as well be reading the text off our own intercepts. He repeats most of that word for word anyway.”

  Roosevelt stared at him, jammed the cigarette into an ashtray. “Talk all you want. Those weasel-worded bastards know full well that all they’ve done is put off the inevitable. They’ve killed time, a lot of time, while their superiors in Tokyo have charged ahead with what they intended to do in the first place.”

  Hull looked down, shook his head. “Who hopes for war, who believes it’s a good idea to start one? What do they think will happen?”

  Roosevelt seemed exhausted, his breathing labored. “There are people in Tokyo who are modeling what they do after Hitler. It seems they haven’t noticed that the Germans are getting chewed to pieces in Russia. But there’s something very attractive about absolute power, total control. The Japanese won’t be happy with your proposal, or anyone else’s, until they grab and hold on to every place they’ve chosen on the map. We don’t yet know what that means. The British don’t know, and they’re bracing for what happens next. That’s what we’ve told Admiral Stark to do—communicate in the strongest language possible that we must be prepared for whatever it is the Japanese will do next. There can be no mistakes, no confusion.”

  FROM CHIEF OF NAVAL OP
ERATIONS ADMIRAL STARK

  This dispatch is to be considered a war warning. Negotiations with Japan looking toward stabilization of conditions in the Pacific have ceased and an aggressive move by Japan is expected within the next few days. The number and equipment of Japanese troops and the organization of naval task forces indicates an amphibious expedition against either the Philippines, Thai or Kra Peninsula or possibly Borneo. Execute an appropriate defensive deployment preparatory to carrying out the tasks assigned in WPL 46. Inform district and Army authorities. A similar warning is being sent by War Department…

  PART THREE

  “Does it seem as if a child might be born?” (Response) “Yes. The birth of a child seems imminent.”

  —JAPANESE SPECIAL ENVOY KURUSU, CORRESPONDENCE WITH FOREIGN MINISTRY—NOVEMBER 27, 1941

  “[In December 1941] the Commander in Chief of the U.S. Fleet had been known as CINCUS…This was later thought utterly inappropriate, as it is (of course) pronounced ‘sink us.’ ”

  —VICE ADMIRAL CHARLES WELLBORN JR., UNITED STATES NAVY (RET.)

  “[Japan] cannot attack us. That is a military impossibility.”

  —CHICAGO TRIBUNE, “NAVY DAY,” OCTOBER 27, 1941

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Rochefort

  HQ, 14TH NAVAL DISTRICT, PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII—FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1941

  The air was thick with the sweat of a dozen men, most poring over the latest radio intercepts from Japanese ships, transmissions that might offer a single morsel of information that would help pinpoint that ship’s location. Rochefort sat at his desk, checking the translation of one particular message, scribbling a correction along one edge of the paper.

  “Ensign Cabot.”