1942

by Robert Conroy

  Alexa nodded and Finch pulled a snapshot out of his wallet. Alexa’s eyes widened as she saw it. “She’s very pretty,” she finally said. “What’s her name?”

  “Nancy Winfield,” he said, improvising quickly. Nancy Winfield was somebody he’d known back in the States. He wasn’t certain what the name of the person in the picture was. “And she is prettier than I deserve. I sure know that, and I remind myself about it a hundred times a day. At least,” he said sadly, “I used to. God only knows what’s happening to her now. She probably thinks I’m dead.”

  Alexa put her hand on his arm. “Perhaps we can send a message that you’re all right.”

  “That would be great,” Charley said sincerely. Even if they did send a message, it would be to an address where no one named Nancy Winfield lived. They would assume she’d moved and forget about it. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Alexa stood and brushed the dirt off her khaki slacks. She smiled at the sergeant and walked off. When she was far enough away, she allowed her eyes to well up with tears.

  “You’re going to die,” she whispered angrily. “You’re going to fucking die, Charley Finch.”

  Their main radio was in a hut near the top of a hill. It was large, and Jake’s soldiers had quipped that the radio was about as portable as a dead elephant. The antenna was on a tall tree a little ways away. Unless you were close and knew what to look for, it was invisible.

  The Japs were looking for it, so Jake hadn’t had the set and antenna placed on the highest hill in the area. That would have been too obvious. Instead, the tree-covered hill was one of scores like it that jutted up in the rugged terrain and were otherwise not significant.

  Someone always stayed by the radio in case a message came in. There was a planned schedule, but you could never tell when something important might arrive, especially now that it looked like big things were about to happen. So far, only a handful in the main area knew of the planes’ arrival, but it was only a matter of time before the secret became common knowledge. They had to be used fairly soon or any element of surprise might be lost.

  Jake didn’t have to take a turn in the radio hut, but he rather liked doing so. It felt good to have a roof over his head, and the privacy he insisted on while up there was a splendid relief. His Morse code skills had improved to where he could receive a message without screwing up.

  He might be alone, but he was safe. The shack was protected by Hawk’s soldiers, who kept out of sight and gave him the illusion of privacy.

  The isolation gave him a chance to think without the distractions of routine command. He stripped off his uniform and relaxed in his army shorts and sleeveless undershirt. He was filthy, but so was everyone else. Back home, people might have bathed once a week or more, but not here. There was sufficient water, but it was primarily for drinking and cooking, not bathing and showering. Crude containers had been devised to hold rainwater and springwater so that some washing and showering did occur, but it wasn’t on a frequent basis. Jake sniffed. He hadn’t had a chance to clean up in more than a week. Hawk had made the comment that it was part of their camouflage. “If you smell like a jungle, you’ll be mistaken for one,” he’d said.

  Small quantities of soap were made from ashes and sand, and were strictly rationed. As a result, everyone, even the women, kept their hair very short. Jake thought Alexa looked very attractive in a haircut that would have seemed short on a man only a few months ago.

  Maybe it would rain and he could let Mother Nature hose him down. But even rain wouldn’t help the tattered condition of his clothing. Like everyone else’s, it had been reduced to little more than rags. His underwear was so bad it reminded him of the type old ladies said you should never wear in case you got in an accident.

  He stepped outside and looked up at the star-filled sky. No rain in sight, but there was a breeze that was comfortable on his bare skin. Although he was not a stickler for discipline, he insisted that his men- and women-be suitably dressed, rags or not. States of undress were tolerated only in situations such as this, where there was a degree of privacy.

  Jake sighed and went back inside the shack. When would the radio open up and tell him when and how he was to use the pilots and planes? The obvious target was Pearl and its rebuilt fuel depots. If that was the case, what were they waiting for? The British carrier and the American pilots had run tremendous risks to get to him, and those efforts should not be wasted.

  He shuddered when he thought of the danger. Not only had the pilots run the risk of getting lost or being discovered but they had made the trip with extra fuel and bombs strapped to the lower sides of the wings of their F4Fs. Like most people who don’t fly warplanes, he hadn’t given a thought to how the bombs would arrive. He hadn’t known that no pilot in his right mind-which was damned few of them-would try to land a plane with the bombs hanging below the wings. The smallest bump as they landed and they would have blown up, taking plane and pilot with them. No, bombs were always ditched in the ocean before landing.

  Instead, Ernie Magruder and his cohorts had flown their lethally dangerous devices across the ocean in the night and had landed safely-bombs, fuel, and all. Now the pilots were hiding near their planes, doubtless playing cards and drinking the homemade booze that Jake tolerated for those off duty.

  Another plus was the fact that they’d not yet been detected. Despite an apparent change in attitude, Japanese foot patrols still hadn’t come close to them. It was as if the Japanese garrison in Hilo was holding back and waiting for something to happen. Jake wondered if this Japanese reluctance to act had anything to do with the arrival of the planes. He had no idea what it might be, but he did feel there was a pattern of activity developing.

  This stalemate could go on forever unless the Japs at Hilo were heavily reinforced, which Jake concluded was inevitable. The American presence would have to be eradicated sometime.

  If the Japanese did begin sizable sweeps of the island, it would be a disaster for Jake’s men and women. They would be on the move in a harsh land and separated from their food sources. Death or capture would be only a matter of time. They could run and hide, but they had to eat. They would have to abandon the radio, which would leave them alone as well. It was a miserable thought.

  He lay back on the twin bed that someone had found and put in the shack. The bed, mattress, and pillow were other reasons to take a turn waiting for the radio to hum. It was a strong and honored tradition that whoever slept in it was responsible for cleaning the sheets and pillowcase. Jake thought that was getting off cheaply.

  So what would happen if their efforts failed and they were discovered? He would have to kill himself to keep the secret of Magic from falling into Japanese hands. He also felt that a number of others, Alexa included, would take their own lives as an alternative to what would happen if they were captured. After all, hadn’t the men on Lanai been prisoners who’d been executed because they were considered outlaws? As more and more was found out about conditions in Japanese prison camps, there were those who thought the victims of the Lanai massacre had been the lucky ones.

  On the positive side, Brooks and Hawkins ran their respective units well enough, while the new guy, Charley Finch, seemed competent enough to help out coordinating supplies. Hawkins was a jewel, and Brooks had shaken off his depression caused by the massacre in Hilo.

  Jake didn’t quite trust Finch yet, and Alexa seemed to dislike him, but there was nothing they could hang the guy for. Maybe he was one of those unlovable people who just did their jobs. After all, since when had this become a popularity contest?

  Alexa had volunteered to observe Finch, and Jake had accepted her offer. This was something she could do without being obvious because she was a civilian, and because she was in charge of those supplies unique to women problems. Jake chuckled when he thought that his command had to be concerned with sanitary napkins. There were only a dozen women in his group, but they had to be cared for, Alexa was perfect for the job, and it got her close to Finch. Se
rgeant Finch got his ass all puckered up when either Jake or Brooks came by, and he almost ignored Hawkins. Alexa watching Finch removed one problem from Jake’s plateful.

  Jake was satisfied that the Charley Finch problem would resolve itself, presuming that there even was a Charley Finch problem.

  I’m getting paranoid, he thought with a yawn. He pulled the top sheet over his body and closed his eyes. If anything came in over the radio, a bell had been rigged to ring and wake him. The mattress felt like the lap of luxury and reminded him of a world long gone. It was so comfortable he wondered if he would be able to sleep.

  He grinned in the night. If he did fall asleep, maybe he would dream of Alexa. She and he had grown remarkably close since her arrival, and he wondered what direction the relationship would ultimately take. He hoped to find out before too long. Or too late, he thought grimly. Damnit, let something happen.

  CHAPTER 19

  Commander Joe Rochefort strode into the conference room and plopped a stack of papers on the table. As usual, he was the antithesis of a smart-looking officer. He looked like he’d slept in his uniform, which had often happened. At his own office, he frequently wore a robe and slippers.

  “Morning, Jamie,” he said genially. “Catch up to me yet?”

  Lieutenant Commander Jamie Priest grinned back. “Not yet, sir, but I’m working on it.”

  Despite many more years of devoted service to his country, Rochefort was only one grade higher than Jamie, and very likely to stay there. If it galled him, however, he didn’t show it. Joe Rochefort had more important things to do.

  “You’ll be at the meeting?” Rochefort asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jamie had only recently been cleared to get Magic information. His new rank had nothing to do with it; a number of people with far lower rank, even enlisted men, had Magic clearance because, as Rochefort said with a sarcastic laugh, “If they didn’t, then a lot of damned admirals would actually have to do some work.”

  He was right, of course, and there were many admirals and generals who hadn’t a single clue that Magic existed, while sergeants and petty officers, possessors of knowledge that could change history, passed them in the hallways.

  Having the information provided by Magic had been both a blessing and a curse. It had been a blessing because Jamie now knew so much more about what was going on with the Japanese. It was fascinating to read not only their minds but their mail.

  The curse part was twofold. First, it further hammered home the fact that he would never get into a position where he might be taken prisoner and the information extracted from him. Only a handful of key people with Magic clearance had been permitted to leave the States, and none into positions of danger.

  The second part of the curse brought him back to the nightmare of the Pennsylvania. He’d found and read the intercepts in which Yamamoto had tried to stop the execution of the American survivors. The Japanese admiral had apparently failed, and that meant Jamie truly was the only survivor of that disaster. The knowledge brought a numbing feeling, and he wished Suzy was there for him to talk to.

  But she wasn’t, and it was something he had to resolve by himself. Jamie’d received a handful of letters in the short while she’d been gone and sent some himself. They loved each other and missed each other.

  He also found that Suzy had received Magic clearance. She’d never even hinted at it. It did mean that they could talk about the Pennsylvania and other things when she finally returned to him. Magic clearance also meant she wouldn’t be supervising a mess hall after she finished training.

  Admiral Nimitz arrived and took a seat at the head of the table. Admiral Spruance wasn’t there, which puzzled Jamie.

  Nimitz went straight to the point. “What do you have for us, Joe?”

  Rochefort grinned. “In summary, the date of the Japanese arrival at Pearl and the makeup of the Japanese force.”

  Rochefort went on to say that the Japanese fleet under Yamamoto was scheduled to arrive at Pearl Harbor on July 20. It would stay for two weeks while the islands were formally declared to be Japanese territory.

  “There are six carriers in the First Air Fleet under Nagumo,” Rochefort said. “The Akagi, Soryu, Hiryu, Kaga, Ryujo, and one other. We don’t have the name just yet. There are two battleship divisions. The first consists of the Yamato and the Musashi, both of their giants. The Musashi is a surprise. I didn’t think she was ready, and she might not totally be. This could easily be her shakedown cruise.”

  Standing in the corner of the room behind Nimitz, Jamie shuddered. Two like the Yamato’! How would the navy handle them?

  Rochefort continued. “The second division consists of the old battleships Kongo, Haruna, and Kirishima.”

  “I thought we sank the Haruna in the Philippines,” Nimitz said with some surprise.

  “Apparently not,” Rochefort responded. “I guess we gave the Medal of Honor to a pilot for sinking the wrong ship.”

  An American airman named Colin Kelly had been awarded the medal for having sunk a Japanese battleship by ramming her with his crippled plane. Either he hadn’t sunk the Haruna or he’d hit a different ship. An air force pilot could easily have mistaken a Japanese cruiser for a battleship.

  Or, Jamie thought with dismay, the whole incident had been fabricated to make something heroic out of the catastrophe that had befallen the American army in the Philippines. He decided he didn’t want to know.

  “There will be a number of cruisers and destroyers as escorts, and a brigade of infantry on transports who will depart after the ceremonies,” Rochefort said. “Right now it looks like the Japs will land them in the Aleutians, and then the fleet will foray down the coasts of Oregon, Washington, and California. The only thing possibly holding them back is their fear that our navy really hasn’t vacated the Pacific.”

  Which they hadn’t. Jamie now knew that the American carriers had returned to the Pacific, along with other carriers and battleships. They were waiting in silence off Samoa, twenty-six hundred miles south of Hawaii.

  Rochefort put down his papers and smiled like a cat. “Yamamoto is bitching that he can’t get confirmation our carriers are actually in the Atlantic and not looking over his shoulder.”

  Nimitz nodded. “He will get that confirmation fairly soon.” He paused and added, “We hope.”

  Jamie felt like purring. It was his idea about deception that was going to be implemented. If it worked, he would have done his best to strike back at the sons of bitches who had sunk the Pennsylvania and massacred her crew. Even if it didn’t work, he’d given it a helluva shot.

  Nimitz stood. “We’ll get this to Spruance as quickly as possible.”

  “What about Halsey?” Rochefort asked in surprise.

  Nimitz smiled gently. “For a man who deals in secrets, you don’t know everything, do you?” he teased. “Halsey is sick and Spruance is going out to replace him.”

  Jamie had heard the rumor and was not as surprised as Rochefort. He was, however, not entirely comfortable with the decision, though it wasn’t his to question. Halsey was sick, and Fletcher was missing and presumed dead. That left Spruance to command the Samoan force.

  But Jamie wondered if Spruance was the right man. He’d worked for him and knew him to be extremely intelligent, and considerate of his subordinates. But were these the attributes of a battle leader? Was he aggressive enough to lead an American attack force against superior odds? Halsey wouldn’t have flinched. But Spruance?

  Alexa walked the dirt path to the radio hut. It was early night, and there was no trouble seeing by the light of the myriad of stars above her. She didn’t notice the glorious display, though; she was there for a purpose.

  She reached the flimsy door and knocked. “Who’s there?” came Jake’s muffled reply. She smiled. He must have been sleeping already.

  “I am,” she answered and stepped in. Jake sat up in the bed and scrambled to cover himself with a sheet. He was wearing an undershirt and shorts. Poor pu
ppy, she thought. He looks so confused.

  Jake smiled and yawned. “What’s up?”

  Alexa pulled the stool from beside the radio and sat down by the bed. “I want to talk. All you have to do is stay there and listen.”

  “Okay.”

  “Jake, do you know how evil so much of the world is, and how much of it I’ve seen?”

  He reached out and took her hand. “I know what you’ve told me. I can’t begin to imagine what your ordeal was like, though. As to the rest of the world, there’s a lot of good out there too, not just evil.”

  Good answer, she thought. “You remind me of Tim. He was a good man and, despite being a professional naval officer, an innocent and naive man. He saw good in the world and thought there was more of it than there was bad. He thought his job was to protect the good. I see a lot of him in you. You’re a good man, Jake, a very good man.”

  Jake flushed. “Hey, Alexa, I’m far from perfect. Don’t canonize me just yet, okay?”

  She laughed. “I said good, not a saint. Also, you have a sense of honor, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could have left the islands and returned to California a long time ago, couldn’t you?”

  “Sure, but I thought I could do some good here, maybe even do something to defeat the Japs.”

  “Honor,” Alexa repeated. “There are those who say that innocence and naivete are essential for there to be honor. I don’t know if they’re right, but I’m glad your sense of honor required you to stay instead of taking the easy way out. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be sitting here alive today. If you hadn’t stayed, you wouldn’t be planning something big against the Japs, would you?”

  “No secrets in this small town,” Jake said with a laugh.

  “Honor,” she said again. “Will you do something for me, with me, but following my instructions to the absolute letter? It’s very important to me. Will you honor my request? Will you honor me?”