The Rising Sun: The Decline and Fall of the Japanese Empire, 1936-1945 (Modern Library War)

by Toland, John

  Almost unopposed, the Zeros began strafing the parked Flying Fortresses and P-40B’s. They were joined by forty-four Zeros which had just raked a nearby fighter base and were after new blood. One by one the big Fortresses exploded as tracers ignited their gas tanks. Once again the attack was abruptly over. Black clouds of smoke drifted across the field. All of the fighter planes and thirty medium bombers and observation planes were on fire. All but three of the Flying Fortresses were destroyed. In one raid the Japanese naval fliers had crippled MacArthur’s Far East Air Force. Every one of the Japanese bombers returned safely, as did all but seven fighters.

  It was a second Pearl Harbor. In one day two of the three most powerful deterrents to quick Japanese success in Southeast Asia had been canceled: the Pacific Fleet and MacArthur’s air force. The third was British Admiral “Tom Thumb” Phillips’ powerful Force Z. According to the latest Japanese reconnaissance report, Prince of Wales and Repulse were still in Singapore harbor—too shallow for their conventional aerial torpedoes and well protected by antiaircraft.

  If only the two big ships could be lured into the open sea.

  At that moment they were steaming north toward the Japanese convoy.

  At Pearl Harbor it was confirmed that 18 ships had been sunk or badly damaged; 188 planes destroyed and 159 damaged; 2,403 Americans killed. It was a disaster, but it could have been a catastrophe. Luckily, the carriers were at sea and the enemy had neglected to bomb the oil storage tanks at the Navy Yard and the submarine pens. Moreover, almost all of the sunk or damaged ships would eventually return to battle. The Japanese lost 29 planes and 5 midget submarines; 45 airmen had died, and 9 submariners. One, Ensign Sakamaki, was captured when his boat went aground on the other side of Oahu.

  At dusk, smoke still spewed from the shattered fleet. Through a drizzling rain the stench of oil, fire and death was thick and nauseating. Rumor fed on rumor: eight Japanese transports were seen rounding Barbers Point … gliders and paratroopers had dropped at Kaneohe … other paratroopers were coming down in sugar-cane fields southwest of Ford Island, still others in Manoa Valley.

  One official Navy report even claimed that paratroopers in blue coveralls with Rising Sun emblems were landing on the north shore. Fifth columnists, saboteurs and spies were reported everywhere—driving taxis, waiting on tables, tending gardens, selling groceries. They had ringed Oahu with sampans to direct the Japanese to their targets; they had driven milk trucks down airstrips, methodically knocking off the tails of American planes; they had poisoned reservoirs—in other words, there was no end to their mischief. Actually they had done nothing at all, but the man most responsible for guiding the raiders to their proper targets, Takeo Yoshikawa, was still hiding behind the identity of a minor consular official.a

  It was unsafe to be abroad in the dark. Every moving object was a target for some edgy rifleman. At Wheeler someone heard a pilot mention poison gas, and the alarm was sounded. At Hickam a guard saw a dim form—it was a friend returning from the latrine—and fired several wild rounds, setting off a wild barrage of AA fire which created more casualties.

  At Ford Island six planes from the carrier Enterprise were returning from a fruitless search for Nagumo’s carriers. Despite a contrary radar report, they had searched to the southwest. This time Pearl Harbor was not caught napping and the planes were raked by antiaircraft fire. The score was almost perfect: of six planes, four were destroyed and one damaged.

  Pearl City was blacked out, but the harbor glowed from burning ships. Flares dotted the overturned Oklahoma. Men with acetylene torches were trying to cut into the hull to rescue their suffocating comrades inside.

  There were men trapped inside West Virginia, lying flat on her keel at the bottom of the harbor. A huge pocket of air was keeping some sixty survivors alive. They were vainly tapping on the sides of the ship to attract attention.

  The reasons for the disaster would be debated bitterly for years. Stripped of politics and personalities, they were simple. The American military leaders had been assured that the Japanese could not mount an independent carrier striking force (after the fact they were still convinced that Nagumo had come from the Marshalls), and could not imagine that the Japanese would be “stupid enough” to attack Pearl Harbor. They were not alone in this. The Japanese Navy General Staff itself had branded Operation Z reckless.

  In a deeper sense, every American would have to accept a share of the blame. The disaster was caused by a national unwillingness to face the facts of a world torn from its stable course after World War I by economic and social revolution, fostered by nationalism and racism, and the inevitable realignment of power in both hemispheres.

  * To Lieutenant Mori, “all planes looked like fighters.” There were 231 Army planes of all types on Oahu, and 88 of these were under repair.

  † The Japanese Navy pilots were so impressed by an American movie, Hell Divers, starring Clark Gable, that they had adopted the name.

  ‡ Although both U. S. Army and naval intelligence were supposed to be monitoring Japanese shortwave newscasts around the clock for just such a “winds” message, this one was not intercepted. Neither was an RCA telegram that Kita had received from Tokyo at 3:20 that morning which, decoded, read: RELATIONS STRAINED BETWEEN JAPAN AND THE UNITED STATES AND BRITAIN.

  The so-called “winds” code is still shrouded in mystery. Commander Laurence F. Safford, chief of the Communication Security Section, testified that he had received an intercepted “execute” of the “winds” code on December 4 or 5 in a Japanese weather broadcast indicating “War with the United States, war with Great Britain, peace with Russia.” He showed the intercept to Kramer, who also believed it was a genuine execute but changed his mind when he testified because of evidence from MacArthur interrogations of Japanese who denied sending out any execute message. Their testimony must be discounted, however, since they also denied even setting up the “winds” code. Neither the original nor any copy of the “execute” teletype could be found in Navy files, and some critics of the Roosevelt Administration still maintain they were purposely destroyed to discredit the possibility that an execute was ever sent.

  § Some accounts state that Fuchida and Genda repeatedly pleaded with Nagumo to return. In an interview in 1966, Admiral Kusaka recalled that they merely suggested a second attack and that his words “We will withdraw” ended the discussion; thereafter no one expressed a forceful opinion.

  ǁ Finance Minister Kaya feared that the news might cause a disastrous decline in the stock market and ordered his secretary, Hisatsune Sakomizu, to somehow control the situation. He advised two men of the problem: the president of the exchange and the head of the brokers’ union, Aizawa by name. They decided that the opening prices could be raised if they bought heavily in Shinto, which, because of its name, had become something of a symbol in the market. When the stock exchange opened, Aizawa bought forty thousand shares. This pushed the price some 30 sen above the previous day’s closing quotation. But almost immediately there was a general downward trend on the big board; the public was reacting to Tateno’s announcement on the radio. Within an hour, however, an “extra” was distributed on the floor telling of great successes in the Pacific and on the Asian continent. In minutes the prices on the big board began climbing.

  a His true identity and mission were discovered only after the war.

  9

  “The Formidable Years That Lie Before Us”

  1.

  On Monday morning Americans were still staggered by the worst military disaster in their history. There were no scenes of panic or even excitement, but strangers on the streets looked at one another with a new awareness. Personal problems were overshadowed by national catastrophe. The bitter wrangles between the interventionists and the “America Firsters” suddenly had no meaning.

  The War Department feared a Japanese carrier attack on the locks of the Panama Canal or the aircraft factories on the California coast. Many eminent government officials were caught up in hys
teria and one phoned the White House claiming that the West Coast was no longer defensible and demanded that battle lines be established in the Rocky Mountains.

  Pearl Harbor had temporarily crippled American naval power in the Pacific, but it had another and more lasting effect. Telegrams and letters from the public flooded the White House pledging full aid and co-operation. Americans would never forget Pearl Harbor.

  A little after noon on Monday, senators, congressmen and Supreme Court Justices filed into the House chamber. In the packed gallery was Mrs. Roosevelt. She was “deeply unhappy,” recalling her anxieties about her husband and brother when World War I broke out. Now she had four sons of military age. Near her, at the President’s request, was Mrs. Woodrow Wilson, the widow of another war President.

  Just before one o’clock the Cabinet entered. Speaker Sam Rayburn rapped his gavel for silence and announced, “The President of the United States!” Roosevelt slowly walked in on the arm of his son James. The President opened a black loose-leaf notebook and began to read: “Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.…”

  The speech, often interrupted by bursts of applause, continued for several minutes. In conclusion the President said, “I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.”

  Roosevelt closed his notebook to a thunder of clapping, cheers and rebel yells. He raised his hand in acknowledgment, took his son’s arm and left the dais. For the first time since he became President, Roosevelt had spoken for all Americans. People of every political conviction were welded into a single angry voice. Partisan politics, for the moment at least, were forgotten. America had declared total war.

  2.

  Shrouded by rain and clouds, Prince of Wales and Repulse were deep in the Gulf of Siam when they were sighted by the Japanese submarine I-56 at 1:45 P.M. on December 9. The radioman on I-56 tapped out the report, but the static was so bad that although he tried again and again, he couldn’t make himself understood. Across the gulf, in Saigon, Rear Admiral Sadaichi Matsunaga of the Navy’s 22nd Air Flotilla was sure that the two warships were at their home base. Two reconnaissance planes had just returned from Singapore with pictures of what looked like one of the big ships (it was actually a massive floating dock).

  At 3 P.M. a message from I-56 was at last heard in Saigon: two enemy men-of-war and four destroyers were heading north at 14 knots near Pro-condor Island. This seemed more logical than the reconnaissance report, and the admiral ordered planes to prepare for attack at sea. While torpedoes were hastily being loaded and unpinned, a large group of curious Army officers arrived. Somehow they had learned that the Navy had tracked down the two British ships. Each plane lifted off to enthusiastic cheers.

  Thirty minutes later Vice Admiral Phillips aboard Prince of Wales signaled Repulse and the destroyer escort:

  WE HAVE MADE A WIDE CIRCUIT TO AVOID AIR RECONNAISSANCE AND HOPE TO SURPRISE THE ENEMY SHORTLY AFTER SUNRISE TOMORROW, WEDNESDAY. WE MAY HAVE THE LUCK TO TRY OUR METAL AGAINST SOME JAPANESE CRUISERS OR SOME DESTROYERS IN THE GULF OF SIAM. WE ARE SURE TO GET SOME USEFUL PRACTICE WITH HIGH-ANGLE ARMAMENT, BUT WHATEVER WE MEET I WANT TO FINISH QUICKLY AND GET WELL CLEAR TO THE EASTWARD BEFORE THE JAPANESE CAN MASS TOO FORMIDABLE A SCALE OF AIR ATTACK AGAINST US. SO, SHOOT TO SINK.

  For the next few hours every ship in Force Z was alive with quiet anticipation until it was announced at about 9 P.M. that they had been discovered by three enemy aircraft and would be returning to Singapore. There was open disappointment and sarcasm.

  The three planes which had forced “Tom Thumb” Phillips to turn back were Allied and they either did not see the British fleet or neglected to report it. The admiral was reading a message from his chief of staff in Singapore: ENEMY REPORTED LANDING AT KUANTAN—a point on the east coast of Malaya midway between Singapore and Kota Bharu. Almost an hour after midnight Force Z changed course for Kuantan, where not a single invader was landing. Another Japanese submarine, I-58, sighted the British fleet at 2:10 A.M., December 10, and after maneuvering around, fired six torpedoes at Repulse. All missed. No one aboard the battle cruiser was aware of the narrow escape.

  Soon after dawn Phillips came upon a suspicious-looking tug and four barges about a hundred miles off Kuantan. Prince of Wales and Repulse—escorted by only three destroyers, since one, Tenedos, was already on its way home to refuel—headed toward the tug at 9 A.M.

  By this time three Japanese groups, totaling ninety-six high-level and torpedo bombers, and ten search planes sent out from Saigon before dawn had about given up hope of locating the British. The search planes were in fact on their way home when, through the clouds, one of them sighted two battleships and three destroyers seventy miles southeast of Kuantan. Fifteen minutes later, at 10:30 A.M., radio contact was finally made with the twenty-seven torpedo planes of Kanoya Air Group. Its three squadrons altered course. Lieutenant Haruki Iki, leader of the 3rd Squadron, forgot exhaustion and hunger. His nine-plane squadron held the title of “Champions of the Navy” and he was eager to prove himself in action. In moments he saw, from 10,000 feet, what looked like a British observation plane dodging behind a cloud. The enemy fleet had to be near.

  Genzan Air Group got the same message. Lieutenant Sadao Takai, leader of the 2nd Squadron, radioed his men and they all banked north-northwest, followed by the 1st Squadron. Clouds began to pile up but occasionally Takai could see patches of sea. His hands trembled. He had a strange impulse to urinate. He remembered what his commander had told him at takeoff: “Calm down and put your strength in your stomach.”

  On the 26,500-ton Repulse, CBS correspondent Cecil Brown was taking pictures of a gun crew playing cards. As the ship zigzagged, he snapped Prince of Wales half a mile ahead. At 11:07 A.M. he heard the loudspeaker announce: “Enemy aircraft approaching. Action stations!” Suddenly a file of nine planes loomed to the south. Rooted to the flag deck in fascination, he watched a cloud of fluttering bombs grow larger and larger. There was a dull thud and the ship shuddered. “Fire on the boat deck!” blared the loudspeaker. “Fire below!”

  The two squadrons of Genzan Air Group approached and Lieutenant Takai heard his commander order “Assault formation,” then, “Go in!” The 1st Squadron swept ahead of Takai in a gradual dive. Takai followed. Where were the enemy fighters? Antiaircraft fire engulfed the 1st Squadron but none was near Takai. Through binoculars he studied a large ship giving off a narrow plume of white smoke. It looked exactly like the battleship Kongo and his blood ran cold. He called the observer over the voice tube, who answered shakily, “It looks like our Kongo to me, too.”

  Takai was down to 1,500 feet before he was certain it was not Kongo. He turned into the clouds to confuse the enemy and when he darted into the open again he was less than two miles from his target.

  A bugle blew on Repulse. “Stand by for barrage!” roared the loudspeaker. Every gun blasted as Takai’s nine torpedo planes swooped in. “Look at those yellow bastards come,” Brown heard someone mutter. Torpedoes slapped into the sea one by one and swam toward the battle cruiser as if they had eyes, but Repulse, despite her twenty-five years, dodged each one with elephantine grace. “Plucky blokes, these Japs,” someone else said. “That was as beautiful an attack as ever I expect to see.”

  On the bridge Captain William Tennant had just noticed “Not under control” balls hoisted above Prince of Wales. He asked the flagship what damage she had suffered but got no answer. She was listing 13 degrees to port and weaving uncertainly at 15 knots. Both port shafts had been knocked out in the first attack and her steering gear wouldn’t respond.

  Tennant signaled Admiral Phillips, “We have dodged nineteen torpedoes thus far, thanks to Providence,” adding that all damage from one bomb hit was under control. No answer. Tennant took it on himsel
f to radio Singapore: ENEMY AIRCRAFT BOMBING. The message was received at 12:04 P.M., and in eleven minutes six clumsy Brewster Buffalo fighters plodded off to the rescue.

  Tennant again signaled Phillips. Again no answer. He reduced Repulse’s speed to 20 knots and moved toward the flagship to offer any assistance. Just then another ominous line of torpedo planes appeared on the horizon.

  It was a squadron from the third section, Mihoro Air Group, led by Lieutenant (s.g.) Katsusaku Takahashi. Like Takai, he thought the ships ahead were Japanese—until they fired at him. He dived at the admiral’s flag on Prince of Wales, but since the ship was turning away, he swung toward Repulse, a mile or so to the north. As he lowered to less than 200 feet, followed by his squadron, he estimated the speed of Repulse by its wake. He adjusted a simple aiming device in front of him. How could he possibly miss such a long target?

  His plane was 2,500 feet from Repulse. “Ready,” he said. The navigator-bombardier gripped the release. “Fire!” The navigator pulled up. The plane skimmed so low over the battle cruiser that Takahashi could see sailors in white scrambling from his machine-gunners’ spray. Once Takahashi began a climbing turn he asked, “Did it drop?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I’ll come in again.” Takahashi banked to the right and came in from the other side of Repulse, but once more the torpedo failed to drop. Doggedly Takahashi circled around for a third try. This time he began jerking up on his own release a mile from the target. As the plane swept over Repulse, he and the navigator were still struggling with their releases but to no avail. Their disappointment was bitter. However, the squadron had scored at least one hit. Repulse was listing to port.