by Jeff Shaara
“If I may say, Admiral, that’s probably the biggest difference between you and MacArthur. You expect all of us to work together, and you assume it will happen because it’s the right thing for us to do. Mac would just order everyone to like each other, and he’ll expect it to happen. If you don’t go along, or perform to his expectations, he gets rid of you. It may be that, with all due respect, the navy has no business telling an army commander how to put troops on the ground. This shouldn’t surprise you, sir, but I’ve been hearing too much scuttlebutt. Bitching has a way of crossing a lot of distance. Something smells here, and I for one want to know what it is.”
Nimitz nodded, forced himself to drink the tea.
“I had assumed Admiral Turner to be the man who could keep that from happening. I still believe he’s fit to handle this combined operation, but if I’m wrong, I need to hear that from Buckner. And if Buckner’s not the man for this job, I’ll hear it from everyone below him with enough backbone to speak up. I’m pretty sure that includes your General Geiger. That tough old bird has more medals than anyone in this theater, and if he wants to bitch, feel free to encourage him.”
Vandegrift laughed.
“I already know what he wants. He thinks he should be in charge out here, and the army should be tending the goat herds. It’s not quite appropriate for me to suggest I agree with him. But there’s nobody else I’d rather see handling my Marines than Roy.” He motioned to the map. “He’ll have plenty to say about what his boys have done, and what the army boys are supposed to be doing.”
Roy Geiger was another of the old bulldogs who was nearly Nimitz’s age. Like Vandegrift, Geiger had established an outstanding reputation early in the war. Geiger had been an accomplished aviator, but the powers above him knew he could inspire his men no matter where he served. Now he was in overall command of the three Marine divisions assigned to the Okinawan campaign, and Nimitz knew that in the three weeks since the landing, Geiger had done as well on Okinawa as he had anyplace before. Geiger had already led Marines into action on Guadalcanal and Bougainville, the Palau Islands and Guam, and in the process had been awarded the Navy Cross and the Distinguished Service Medal. He had also been awarded three gold stars, which Nimitz knew had been embarrassing substitutes for the two higher honors, that Geiger should be wearing at least two Navy Crosses, just for starters. But it was the politics of war, few in Washington, including Vandegrift, wanting to bear the brunt of anyone’s jealousy over this rough-hewn Marine getting his name in the paper too often. Nimitz liked Geiger, despite the rough edges, thought, it has to kick him in the ass to be taking orders from an army man. Yep, if there’s a problem, he’ll tell me about it.
“Sir!”
Nimitz turned, saw one of Buckner’s aides in the doorway, making way for an MP. The MP was stern-faced, wore a pair of forty-fives, stared at Nimitz, then Vandegrift, as though appraising whether the two men were a threat. The MP stepped into the room, stood to one side, his back pressed firmly against the wall. Nimitz saw a second MP, another rapid entrance, the two men acknowledging the all clear with a brief nod to each other, as though any danger had been neutralized. It was a ridiculous show, the kind of theatrics he knew had been absorbed by anyone who had ever served MacArthur. Buckner returned now, marching in, seemed satisfied that something vital had been accomplished in his absence. He stared down at Nimitz with the hard blue eyes, a show of fierceness that Nimitz had seen before, sat down heavily, his hands folded, a man waiting for some unpleasant task.
Nimitz eyed the MPs, thought, oh, for crying out loud. This is ridiculous.
“General Buckner, will you please ask your men to remain outside. We will summon them if needed.”
Buckner seemed suddenly uneasy, as though his bluff had been called.
“Um … of course, Admiral.”
He turned, the men absorbing a look from Buckner that Nimitz couldn’t see. He wants witnesses, Nimitz thought. Maybe he thinks I’m here to relieve him. So, he knows there’s a problem. That’s a start. The aide was out, then the MPs, one of them pulling the door closed behind him. Nimitz felt the air heating up even more, said, “For chrissakes, General, let some air in here. Unless you believe you’ve got a security problem in your own headquarters, we don’t need to seal this place up like a fuel drum. I assume your MPs won’t be lurking outside the door like private eyes, for God’s sake.”
Buckner turned again, self-conscious, seemed to check out beyond the door.
“No, sir. Certainly not. If we need a staff briefing, I’ll summon them.”
Nimitz didn’t wait, motioned toward the map.
“What’s going on in the south, General? Seems to be a lack of progress.”
Buckner seemed surprised that Nimitz had avoided small talk. Buckner was immediately defensive, something Nimitz expected.
“Sir, we are facing a dedicated, fanatical enemy, who has all the good ground. The Japanese have created a massed defensive position that takes full advantage of the assets of the island. Naval intelligence … our intelligence was unable to tell us exactly where they’d be, but we know their positions for certain now. Their plan was most certainly to distract us in the north while they put up a major front across the southern half of the island that would be difficult, no matter which forces attacked them. It’s pretty admirable, actually. I’ll give Ushijima credit for a good plan.”
Nimitz saw a scowl from Vandegrift, said to Buckner, “What about your plan, General?”
Buckner crossed his arms, tilted his head to one side.
“Everything is under control here, sir. Before this is over with, we’ll have destroyed every enemy installation, every hiding place, every defensive position. The Japs have nowhere to run. Your navy boys are doing a fine job with their artillery, and I expect that will continue. There won’t be a building standing in any town on this whole place. We’ll level this place just like Mac did Manila. The enemy will understand that we’re not playing around.”
Nimitz looked down at the table, thought, Manila? MacArthur devastated a glorious, historic city for no good reason, except that he could. And the civilian casualties …
“What of the Okinawan people, General? Our mission here is to capture these islands and eliminate the Japanese. I don’t recall anyone in Washington telling us to eliminate the people who live here.”
Buckner nodded, seemed to concede the point.
“Damn shame. But they chose their lot, sided with the Japanese. Can’t be helped if they’re in the way now. I have given this a great deal of thought, I must admit. I firmly believe that once we have secured this place, we embrace the Okinawan people into some sort of protectorate, making them a part of, well … us. Though of course they would not be granted citizenship, anything like that. The engineers have assured me that this island can support two dozen or more airfields, and we will certainly benefit from the cooperation of the citizens here, labor and whatnot. We must also look to the future, our operations against the Japanese mainland, and even afterward. We must maintain control here, well after this war ends. This place guards our flanks, so to speak, against any aggressive acts we might encounter in the future, Russia, China, what have you.”
Buckner seemed energized by his demonstration of political savvy, and Nimitz was stunned. He had no time to give Buckner a history lesson, knew that the Japanese had occupied Okinawa at their own convenience, without any friendly invitation from the Okinawan people or their civil government. But Buckner’s concerns for the future of any political arrangements anywhere in the Pacific were far beyond any planning that should be going on in his own headquarters.
“General, I appreciate the gravity of thought you have given this matter, but your priorities seem to be a little out of sequence. Okinawans are dying in large numbers, many of them by the hands of the Japanese, and many from the impact of our own weaponry. Before we start inviting them to dinner, or welcoming them to the family, perhaps we should liberate them from the enemy.” He saw Buckner absorb
ing his words as though it were an entirely new concept. “The point, General, is that before any other grand global strategies can be put into place, we must do what we can to secure this island, and hopefully, do so without extinguishing these people in the process. The longer we take, the more they will suffer, plain and simple. And for that matter, I’d rather not absorb any more of our own casualties than we have to.”
Buckner didn’t respond, and Nimitz knew this conversation needed to return to the point.
“It’s good that you’ve found the enemy’s primary position, and apparently we now understand his strategy. So, how do you plan to drive through his defenses? It seems that frontal assaults against a well-fortified enemy are … costly.”
Vandegrift shook his head, said, “End run. Amphibious assault. The Second Marine Division is waiting on Saipan and can be mobilized within a couple of days. That’s a strong, well-rested force that can come ashore in the south and set up behind the Jap positions you’re facing now. Even without any element of surprise, our aircraft and naval guns will keep them in their holes. Once we’re ashore on two sides of them, the enemy will be in an untenable situation. They’ll have to surrender, or do one of those blaze of glory things. Either way, our casualty counts will be minimized.”
Buckner sniffed.
“As I said, sir, we have things under control. I would prefer that the Second Marines be kept in readiness for another amphibious operation closer to mainland Japan. Admiral, you are familiar with the long-range planning. Does it not make sense to have a well-rested unit prepared to drive even closer to the enemy’s homeland?” He didn’t wait for a response. “With the artillery and armor we have on the ground, it is only a matter of time before we blow through the Japanese defenses. With all due respect, General, we long ago reconnoitered those landing zones, and Admiral Nimitz is very aware that it was our conclusion that those beaches are not defensible. The cost in lives could be catastrophic, and I will not participate in another fiasco like Anzio! You must certainly agree that we don’t want to see the Marines taking any more casualties than necessary. General, you should be pleased that Geiger’s success in the north came so easily.”
Nimitz saw Vandegrift straighten in the chair, as though inflating, the blast inevitable. Nimitz waited for it, saw Vandegrift red-faced, forcing himself into composure.
“I have been in communication with General Geiger, and I know personally that the general will happily escort you through the battlegrounds on the Motobu Peninsula. I am confident that you will see that efforts made by my people were made against a scattered, well-armed enemy, who took what we gave them exactly as they had planned.”
Buckner seemed not to care how hot Vandegrift might be.
“Yes, yes, General, with all due respect, I am well aware of the enemy’s actions on Motobu. I admit that at first, we did not understand what the enemy was doing, why they were offering your Marines such a soft defense. General Geiger has reported to me that their plan was designed to draw us into some awful ground, where their small numbers were enhanced by every other advantage. It was their intention to chew us up piecemeal. Well, I’m sure we can agree that their plans didn’t succeed. And our casualties there were insignificant.”
Vandegrift looked at Nimitz, no softening of his anger.
“There is no such thing, General, even for a Marine. I fail to see why you object to an amphibious assault.”
Buckner closed his eyes.
“I must ask you, please do not drag out this debate. It serves no purpose. It would take far too long to mobilize the Second Marines for such an attack.”
Vandegrift raised his voice a notch.
“Fine. Use your own people. Unless my intelligence reports are inaccurate, much of your Seventy-seventh Infantry Division is sitting out there holding fort on those dinky little islands playing with sand castles. I heard they’re a good outfit. Prove it by sending them into the south. You’ll have an enormous amount of air and naval fire in support. To assume disaster is unwarranted. And, frankly, General, it is inappropriate.”
Buckner rose slightly in his chair, and Nimitz knew this had to play out before he could interfere. Vandegrift was being energized by the information he was receiving from Geiger, and Nimitz knew that Geiger’s Marines in the north of the island would expect to be used where the toughest fight would be. So far, that had not been the case. Vandegrift was doing exactly what his subordinate would hope, and Nimitz felt as though he was refereeing a wrestling match.
“General Vandegrift, the Seventy-seventh Division is where I need them to be, for now. Look, I understand the pride of the Marines. You have earned it, no doubt. But you must admit that the enemy forces Geiger’s men faced northward were nothing like what the army divisions are facing now. At worst, your men are suffering every night through jitter parties, dealing with infiltrators and snipers. The heat is on down south, and the infantry has the support they need to get the job done.”
Vandegrift was still red-faced.
“Your troops have been drawn into the same kind of soft defense my boys were, only you’re facing the bulk of the damn Jap army! Fine, forget the Second Division. Geiger is prepared right now to shift as many units as are needed from the north as quickly as you give the order! If those men were down there, they’d be finding a way to cut past those dug-in bastards in their deep-ass caves. We’ve been in too many costly engagements on these islands, General, and we learned a long time ago that relying on artillery and dive-bombers to pour high explosives all over hell and gone, trying to rearrange the landscape … just doesn’t do the job! The Japs are like moles, and they’ve adapted to all that steel we drop on them by lying low. When the blasting stops, they come out again. Your people should be learning that right now!”
Buckner shrugged.
“My people are learning exactly what they should be learning. We are rapidly moving the artillery into proximity to the enemy’s strongest positions. Armored units are rolling into place even as we speak. But if it satisfies you, General, please know that I have already considered my options. If I feel it is necessary, I will order General Geiger to move his Marines southward, to lend a hand.”
Nimitz didn’t wait for the response from Vandegrift, held up a hand, said, “Enough. General Buckner, I would suggest …”
“Sir, forgive me, but I am not in favor of navy commanders issuing instructions as to how the army should go about its business. I deeply regret the cost the navy is suffering from the Japanese suicide assaults. Those strikes have caused us to lose two supply ships, which have contributed to our difficulties. But in time, those difficulties will be solved. The army knows its business, Admiral. Please allow me to do my job. If you order me to change my strategies, then of course, I will follow those orders. But I will vigorously protest that kind of interference.” He looked hard at Nimitz, a cold blue glare. “Sir, we have the firepower in place to carry out this operation just as planned. Every day we make forward progress.”
Vandegrift interrupted.
“A foot at a time.”
Nimitz knew the Marine had a point. But he understood Buckner’s strategy and his stubborn adherence to every piece of training he had received. It was simply the army way, move steadily forward by overwhelming the enemy with firepower. The Marines had maintained a completely opposite philosophy, that movement should be lightning quick by men on foot, and the artillery and tanks could come in afterward to clean up. Nimitz understood more clearly than ever why MacArthur mostly left the Marines out of his own picture. It was far easier doing things his own way, without having to hear dissension from his subordinates. They’re both right, he thought. And, probably, both wrong. No wonder Turner hides in a bottle. He’s staying the hell out of the way.
“General Vandegrift, I appreciate your frustration, but General Buckner is in command here. Your men have performed extremely well, as I expected. But the Marines cannot be the point of every sword. I know the numbers, know how much devastation we can bring
to any enemy position. General Buckner, your forces are engaged with an enemy you are expected to defeat, without any more delay than necessary. Delay means casualties, as we all know. It was anticipated that Okinawa would be secured in a month. You have one week left in that timetable, and from the looks of things, you’re not even close to making it.” He glanced at Vandegrift, who seemed to recognize Nimitz heating up. The Marine leaned forward, clearly hanging on Nimitz’s anger. “We’re losing a ship or more every day to the damn kamikazes. Men are dying at sea, and men are dying on these hills. Too many men. You’ve got a week, General. If you can’t make a significant breakthrough, I need to find someone who will.”
Buckner started to protest, and Nimitz knew he had trespassed into Buckner’s authority more than any army man would normally tolerate. But Nimitz could read the energy of both men, and there was just enough muggy heat in the room to light his own fuse. Even Buckner seemed to understand that there was little he could say. Nimitz tried to calm down, fought the unpleasant wetness in his clothes.
“Simply put, gentlemen, the army’s difficulties in the south must be solved. I do agree with you, that our success here is only a matter of time. The problem of course …” He paused, studied the table in front of him, chose his words. “The problem, General Buckner, is that time is not measured out here. It is measured in Washington. And Washington is tapping its foot.”
14. ADAMS
NEAR CAPE HEDO, NORTHERN OKINAWA
APRIL 28, 1945
The rain finally stopped, but the mud around him continued to ooze downward into the base of the foxhole, deepening the pool of goo beneath him. He stared at Welty, saw the same misery, but more, Welty scratching at his pant leg, futility against the constant assault from the fleas. The roads had been nearly impassable, and so today there had been no kitchen trucks. Their only alternative was K rations, and even the lieutenant had grumbled at that. It was a mystery to Adams that Welty never seemed to mind the K rations, and he watched his friend digging merrily through the boxes, picking out whatever seemed to suit his tastes at the moment. But the fleas were relentless, not even Welty’s quiet cheerfulness protecting him. Adams rubbed his own legs in reflex, said, “The oil works. I’m telling you. The sarge was right.”