1942

by Robert Conroy

  At least, Nimitz thought with some satisfaction, he had only the Pacific to worry about. The situation in the Atlantic was no less dire, with German subs ravaging American shipping all along the eastern seaboard and up the larger rivers. In Europe, both England and Russia were reeling under Nazi attacks.

  “Opportunity,” Nimitz said.

  “What?” Spruance asked quizzically.

  “Pearl Harbor and all that has followed is not an unmitigated disaster.”

  “Some’ll disagree with that.”

  “Let them,” Nimitz said firmly. “Tell me, Ray. How many battleships have been sunk or damaged by Jap carriers?”

  “Nine or ten, depending on how the British count battleships,” Spruance answered. “Eight of ours and at least one British.”

  “And how many carriers have been sunk?”

  Spruance grinned. He knew where this was going. “None.”

  “Right. Now who the devil needs battleships when they keep on sinking?” Nimitz shuffled papers on his desk until he came up with the right one. “Look, we began this war with seventeen battleships to the Japs’ ten or eleven. We’ve lost eight, at least temporarily, but have fifteen under construction. In a year, two at the most, we will have overwhelming superiority in battleships.”

  “Of course,” Spruance said as he took a chair.

  “And the same holds true with carriers. We have seven to their dozen or so, but we have another eleven being built, and that doesn’t even count the smaller carriers, which we will start producing by the dozens. Can they match that?”

  “We know they can’t. We know the limitations of their shipyards. Japan doesn’t have an industrial base like ours to draw on. While it’s a closed society, we’re fairly confident they can’t add more than a couple of carriers or battleships in the next several years. We already outnumber them in cruisers, destroyers, and subs. If we use our resources properly, we will defeat them. The carrier is the queen of the navy now, not the gunship. Battleships and cruisers will protect the carriers, not the other way around.”

  Nimitz slapped the desk with uncharacteristic anger. “Yet, we’re going to lose Hawaii.”

  Spruance nodded glumly. Three carriers were operating under Halsey. Their task was to protect Australia. A handful of old, slow battleships under Admiral William Pye was positioned along the California coast. They were there primarily to calm the fears of the populace, not to fight the Japs. If they tried, they’d be murdered.

  “If Hawaii goes,” Spruance added, “then we’ll have to pull out of Midway as well. That big Jap task force we’ve been listening to seems to have departed. Only Hawaii can be its destination. It’ll arrive in a week or so, and, by that time, their planes from Molokai will have softened up Oahu’s defenses to the point where a landing will be a cinch.”

  Nimitz rose and paced the small office. “Our ships are sunk, our carriers are too few, and I’m being told our subs aren’t sinking anything because the torpedoes aren’t working correctly. Is anything going right for us?”

  “Magic is. At least we have some idea what the Japs are up to. Just a shame we can’t do anything about it right now. If the Japs ever find out about Magic, we’ll really be in a dilemma. We’ll be deaf and blind along with crippled.”

  “Well,” Nimitz said, “that’s what we need to talk about. I just got word that Magic may be compromised.”

  Spruance paled. “How?”

  “The last of our codebreakers on Hawaii departed a few days before the landing on Molokai. They were on the cruiser St. Louis. We believe the St. Louis was torpedoed and sunk off the big island, Hawaii.”

  “Survivors?”

  “We don’t know. For once I find myself praying there aren’t any.”

  Alexa ran outside in the night to help Jake with the packages that were stacked in the motorcycle’s sidecar. “What have you brought?” she asked with a laugh. “Christmas was a while ago.”

  It was after midnight, and Jake had awakened her with his knocking on the door. She wore a thin cotton nightgown and had a short robe over it. Neither reached her knees, and she was barefoot.

  Melissa Wilson had heard the motorcycle through her open window, and she too came out. If she was surprised to see Jake at two in the morning, she didn’t show it. All over Hawaii, people had become nocturnal, as they found it safer to travel slowly at night than to attempt movement during the day, when the Jap planes were out.

  Alexa gaped as she handed several packages to Melissa. “What are you wearing?”

  “One of my Jerry’s shirts and a smile,” Melissa said happily. “Don’t worry, Lexy I won’t scare Jake away.”

  Jake pretended he didn’t hear the conversation and tried not to stare at Melissa as the three of them moved quickly into Alexa’s house. There they pulled the shades and lit some candles. Electricity had been out for a while, as had the telephone lines. There was an air of eager expectation as they opened the bundles. The two women immediately knew what they contained-food.

  “Won’t this get you in trouble?” Alexa asked as she looked over the array of treasures. There was bread, powdered milk, cans of all kinds, and packages labeled as something called C rations.

  “No,” he answered, and she saw anger flare in his eyes. “The dumb fuckers were throwing it away. Oops”-he flushed-”I’m sorry.”

  The women laughed. “We’re both familiar with basic military terminology,” Missy answered. “I believe that word was little Jerry Junior’s first.”

  Jake laughed, the anger gone. “The bread was decreed stale. It’s a little hard, but add water and it’ll soften up. You do have water, don’t you?”

  “A well,” Alexa said.

  “Good. The canned stuff is dented and therefore not worthy for our boys to eat, and the C rations might have been shipped improperly. It’s insane. We may be starving in a few weeks, but some fools still think we’re at peace and there’ll be an inspection in class A uniforms on Saturday morning. There’s a war on, and half the army still hasn’t figured it out yet.”

  “What are C rations?” Alexa asked. She’d heard the term but had no idea what they were.

  “They came out a couple of years ago,” Jake said. “Each package contains an unidentifiable meat, lemonade, hard candy, cigarettes, crackers or bread, and toilet paper.”

  Alexa grinned impishly. “Then the assholes who threw them out should have kept them.”

  “Absolutely.” Jake laughed again. He felt so totally at ease with Alexa and her friend. “I know you don’t smoke, but hang on to the cigarettes. They might be valuable soon. Hell, they already are.”

  That sobered them. “The Japs are on their way, aren’t they?” Alexa asked.

  Jake shook his head. “I didn’t tell you that. But think about something: The Japs haven’t hit the civilian water supply, only the military. That tells me they’re planning to invade and don’t want so much destroyed that they can’t sustain themselves after they take over. If all they wanted to do was destroy this place, they’d be flattening everything. No, they’re being very selective.”

  “Do you remember Jamie Priest?” Melissa asked.,”He was on the Pennsylvania.”

  “It’s sad, and it’s gonna get sadder,” Jake said. News of the sinking had just been officially released, and it had cast a further pall on the island. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get back before somebody notices the trash has been stolen.”

  Melissa got up as well. “I think the baby’s crying.” The top buttons of her shirt had come undone while she was handling the packages, and Jake tried not to gape at her ripe, full breasts as she whirled and departed.

  “I’ll escort you to your chariot, Sir Knight,” Alexa said. She took his arm, and they walked outside. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for us. Melissa’s worried sick about little Jerry not getting enough food. She had been nursing, but that’s literally drying up and he’s eating more and more solid food. I’ve lost a couple of pounds, but nothing I’ll
miss.”

  “I’m glad I can help,” Jake said. He thought that Alexa and Melissa had lost more than a couple of pounds each but didn’t comment. They were no doubt saving some of their food for Melissa’s baby.

  Jake was conscious of the feel of her hand on his arm and the occasional brush of her body against him as they walked. This is not happening, he thought.

  “Did you really steal trash?” she asked.

  Jake chuckled. “It’s a skill I picked up as a child when we were really hungry. Amazing what people will throw out, and even more amazing what others will eat if they have to.”

  Alexa shuddered. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Jake disengaged himself with reluctance and climbed on the motorcycle. “If it does, it does. Do what you have to to stay safe. Surviving is all that matters, not the price.”

  “Will you come back again? I’d like to see you, and you don’t have to bring presents.”

  “I’ll try,” he said as he kicked the motor into life. He would do more than try.

  Alexa nodded. “I remember seeing a cowboy movie with John Wayne or somebody like him in it. The heroine told the departing hero to be careful as he went into battle, and we all laughed. It seemed such a silly statement at the time, but I don’t think so any longer.”

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful, Jake.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Colonel Joseph Lawton Collins glared at the two men across the table from him. General Short was unaffected by it, but Colonel Walter C. Phillips appeared upset. It struck Collins as mildly amusing that both men would be named Walter C. He hoped they didn’t have the same middle name. Or the same father.

  As a lieutenant general, Short could afford to disregard Collins’s opinions, but news of Collins’s pending promotion to brigadier made people like Phillips uncomfortable. Phillips was widely considered to be only barely competent and would likely rise no further. Therefore, the last thing he wanted to do was anger someone who was going to pass him very quickly, and who someday might be his boss.

  Worse for Phillips, he had hitched his star to Short’s, and the general’s star was fading rapidly. It was easy to feel sorry for both officers. They were honest men who were products of a career in a peacetime army, and were not faring well in the shock of combat. Short, for instance, had a lifelong reputation as a highly moral man and a hard worker. Now he would be remembered, if at all, for not being prepared on December 7.

  Phillips’s presence at the meeting in Short’s office was somewhat of a surprise. He was rarely included in anything important, and it occurred to Collins that General Short wanted a witness.

  “Colonel Collins,” said Phillips. “We all agree that Captain Novacek’s assessment of the situation is excellent, but we disagree as to where it points. His feeling that the Japanese will invade at Haleiwa is only that, a feeling. We know that a Japanese force is heading here and we must be prepared for every contingency. We feel that the Japanese may be softening up the southern half of Oahu for an attack at either Barbers Point, at the west of the harbor entrance, or Bellows Field, which is to the east.”

  Collins knew precisely where both locations were and took the geography lesson as an insult. “Why not Waikiki? Hell, they could surf in and register at a hotel. No, landings at those sites would put them in the teeth of our field guns and shore batteries. They will land north and get organized. Then they’ll ram their army down our throats. At least two of our regiments must be at Haleiwa, not one.”

  Phillips shrugged. “Look, I know you think a lot of this Novacek. His trip to Haleiwa while under fire was bravely done, and, yes, in hindsight he was right about the local Japanese not being saboteurs, but that doesn’t make him right in this instance. We simply have to protect everything.”

  “And wind up protecting nothing,” Collins said, paraphrasing the old military dictum. “What the Japs have proven is that it will be extremely difficult to reinforce any area on the island without air cover. That means we must be dug in close to the point of attack if we are going to stand any chance of stopping them. If they do land at Haleiwa, they will brush our one regiment aside, and reinforcements will be cut to pieces trying to shuttle men north.”

  “It’s seductive,” said Phillips, “and we’d stand a good chance of smashing them, but it is too big a chance.”

  “I agree with Phillips,” Short said. He hadn’t spoken in a while, and his comment came as a mild surprise. “I don’t agree that our northern regiment will be brushed aside so quickly. The Japs may have pulled a fast one on the navy but they haven’t fought our army yet, and I’m confident our boys can handle the little yellow bastards.”

  Collins shook his head in disbelief. “But look what’s happening to the British in Malaya and to MacArthur’s boys in the Philippines.”

  Short smiled grimly. “That’s because the Brits have too many Indians and other Asiatics, and Mac has all those Filipinos. No, the Hawaiian Division is made up of real Americans, and they will hold the Japs until reinforcements reach them wherever the Japs try to land.”

  Short rose and went to a map of the island tacked to the wall. “We have four regiments. The command will be divided into two ad hoc brigades. General Wilson will command the ones at Haleiwa and at Schofield. General Murray will command the remaining two, and they will be placed to guard Barbers Point and Bellows Field.”

  Collins admitted to himself that this command breakdown did make some sense. Had the reorganization of the Hawaiian Division gone into effect, Major General Durward Wilson would have commanded the 24th Division, while Major General Maxwell Murray would have taken over the 25th.

  Short smiled benignly. “Look, Colonel, I know you mean well, but you’ve only been here a short time and you’ll be leaving us in just a little while.”

  “I’ll be what?” Collins said in surprise.

  Short permitted himself a chuckle. “Finally, something I know and you don’t. Colonel, I’ve just gotten orders to send you and a handful of others back to the mainland. I gather that General Marshall doesn’t want to take a chance on you becoming prisoners.”

  “When do I leave?” Collins asked softly. This was not what he’d had in mind. He didn’t like to leave jobs unfinished, and that was precisely what was going to happen. He didn’t know what plans Marshall had for him and, although intrigued, thought he would rather stay and take part in the fighting.

  “We’re making arrangements to sneak out a few planes,” Phillips said. There was no smugness in his voice. Instead, Collins picked up a hint of regret. He would not be leaving Oahu. “We have a handful of PBYs and a Pan American Clipper that had to make a landing here a couple of days ago. They are hidden and will be used at the proper time.”

  Both types of planes were flying boats that could land and take off in the water. That trait made them invaluable, as every good-size landing field had been attacked by the Japs.

  ‘Who’ll replace me?” Collins asked.

  Short appeared to wince. It had been his earlier decision to appoint the incompetent Fielder to the position now held by Collins that had caused so many problems. “Bicknell,” the general said. “Novacek will be his second.

  “Are you promoting Novacek? He sure as hell deserves it.”

  Short looked at the ceiling. An explosion rumbled in the distance. If he had listened to Novacek in the first place, he thought, perhaps the situation wouldn’t be quite so grave. Perhaps he’d even have a reputation left.

  “Yeah,” the general said softly. “Promote the SOB.”

  Jamie Priest had no idea which source of his suffering was the worst. Was it the fire from the sun that baked the bare portions of his skin, causing it to blister and resulting in agonies of the damned? Or was it the salt water as it washed over his body and over those blisters and increased his torments?

  No, Jamie decided, it was the thirst. In comparison with thirst, anything else was trivial. The thirst was killing him and driving him mad. Had dr
iven him mad? Was he already insane?

  He had been at least two days without water, probably longer- he’d lost track of time. Already several of his companions had died or just given up and let themselves slide into the sea to end their pain. All of those who’d been more than slightly wounded in the tragic encounter with the Japanese fleet were dead, and he wasn’t certain about the rest. It’d been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone, or heard a voice call out.

  At first Jamie and the others had hoped that the ocean currents would push them east toward the mainland, but the winds had been contrary, which meant they’d likely not gone far at all. Floating to California had been a forlorn and ludicrous hope anyhow. Without food or water, they’d have been dead for weeks before they got near the place.

  But at least the thought had given them some faint whisper of hope. That hope had vanished when reality set in as time passed. They were adrift in the Pacific without food, water, or shelter, and, while the temperatures weren’t at all difficult to endure, the constant exposure to salt water, wind, and sun had scraped them raw.

  Maybe the dead were the lucky ones. Jamie knew he would join them very shortly. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness for some time and now was experiencing delirium and hallucinations. There was a whale on the water, and it was staring at him Impossible, a rational corner of his mind said. Whales go in the water and not on it. And whales do not have holes in their sides. Okay, he thought, that made it a building and not a whale, but there aren’t any buildings in the middle of the Pacific either, so that meant it must be a whale after all.

  He heard someone say “easy,” and then he felt strong hands lift him out of the water and into the belly of the whale or whatever it was. I’m Jonah, he thought and giggled silently. He tried to say something, but his lips were scabbed over and wouldn’t work.

  A face looked down on him. There was a light behind the face, and he wondered if it was God talking to him. “Are you from the Pennsylvania! If you are, just nod, buddy. Don’t try to talk at all.”