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

by Toland, John

  The atmosphere was awkward as each man wrote his resignation. It was ironic that exactly four years earlier Tojo had been chosen war minister.

  Stony-faced, Tojo delivered the documents to Kido. The Privy Seal asked whom he would like to succeed him. “I won’t say whom I want,” Tojo replied with sarcasm. “I imagine the jushin have already decided who it will be.” Then he started down the long corridor to the Emperor’s office to make his last report as prime minister.

  The jushin had not yet selected his successor but were about to. They met this time in the afternoon—and with Kido as the dominating presence—in the West Room of the Palace. Also present were the Grand Chamberlain and President of the Privy Council Yoshimichi Hara.

  General Abe, who had always supported Tojo, wanted the Navy—in the person of Yonai—to form the new cabinet.

  “I did take part in politics once,” the admiral observed. “And I might try again as navy minister, but I can’t become prime minister.” Military men had “a one-sided education” and this made them unsuited for such a role. “Politics should be left to politicians.”

  Konoye appreciated Yonai’s idealism but they had to consider the matter from a practical point of view. “Politics today cannot be carried on without the Army’s participation.”

  Kido and Konoye had long since privately agreed that there should be an interim cabinet before the imperial family became involved. “The bolstering of home defense,” Kido retorted, “the increase of Army strength in the homeland, and that of the military police, force us to choose someone from the Army.” Wakatsuki acquiesced and so did Yonai. Moments earlier the latter had warned about the dangers of choosing a military man; now he suggested Count Hisaichi Terauchi, who had been promoted to field marshal the year before.

  Konoye was willing to accept Terauchi, but not before he had emphasized two points: “First, why did Tojo fall? Of course, it was partially because many unfavorable things were said about him, but also because the Army, unlike the Navy, interferes with every phase of political as well as economic life.” This would have to cease. “Second, the nation nowadays seems to be drifting toward a leftist revolution. Everything points in that direction. Losing the war is a dreadful thing, but a revolution is far more dreadful. Once defeated, we may recover in due time, but a leftist revolution would play havoc with the national essence.” He wondered if Terauchi could control the dissident elements.

  “He is all right,” Kido said, “but since he is so far away from here, at the front, it would be difficult to bring him back. We’d better choose someone else.”

  For a second time Yonai nominated a military man, General Yoshijiro Umezu, the commander of the Kwantung Army who had just been recalled to replace Tojo as chief of staff.

  “It’s not good to remove him so soon from his new post,” objected Kido, who privately thought Umezu would be a poor choice.

  Konoye suggested a Navy man, the aged Kantaro Suzuki, who had narrowly escaped death in the 2/26 Incident. “I was with him in the Privy Council,” Hara said, “and know him well. He will never accept the offer.” Hiranuma’s motion of Field Marshal Shunroku Hata, commander in chief in China, got a lukewarm reception.

  Again Yonai suggested a general, Kuniaki Koiso. “He’s a good man, capable and courageous. I knew him well when he was in my cabinet.”

  “How does he get along with Army men?” Kido asked.

  “Not so badly, I believe,” General Abe replied. “He’s different from Tojo.”

  “He’s first-rate and devoutly religious,” Hiranuma commented.

  “I have no objections,” said Wakatsuki, “although I don’t know him.”

  Okada thought they were making too hasty a choice, and Konoye supported him. This inspired a lengthy and inconclusive dispute, and in the end they were forced to advise the Emperor to choose one of the three Army men—Terauchi, Hata or Koiso. It was already eight o’clock. They had debated for four hours and it was with a sense of relief that they passed on the responsibility to His Majesty.

  Marquis Kido reported immediately to the Emperor, with the suggestion that His Majesty query the Army on Terauchi’s availability before making a choice. The answer came from Tojo, who by chance was at the Palace for the installation of his successor, General Umezu. Tojo advised against releasing Terauchi from his post at such a critical time. That left only Hata and Koiso, and the Emperor, after considering Kido’s presentations, selected the latter.

  During the night Prince Konoye began worrying about Koiso. Would he be able to control the leftists and remain independent of the Army? Perhaps there should be co-premiers, one from the Army, one from the Navy. A combination of Koiso and Yonai, for example. And since Yonai himself had recommended Koiso, it was obvious the two would get along.

  The next day he discussed it with Baron Hiranuma, who thought it was a splendid idea. And, more important, so did the Privy Seal. But Yonai remained reluctant. Since he had refused Tojo’s invitation to join his cabinet, it would be “improper” now to accept a much more prominent position. But why not navy minister? “I’m confident of handling that post. I’m not ashamed to admit that I might prove to be the best possible navy minister.”

  Konoye was almost as pleased as if Yonai had accepted co-premiership. With Yonai in the Cabinet, strongly supported by Kido and the Emperor, it would amount to the same thing.

  General Koiso arrived from Korea the following afternoon. He was taken directly and without explanation to the watiting room adjoining the Imperial Chamber. Nicknamed “the Tiger of Korea” more for his looks than for his military prowess, he had slanted, catlike eyes, a flat nose and thin lips. He liked sake parties and was jovial enough to tolerate another nickname—“Champion Baldhead of Japan.” He knew there was a good chance he might be named prime minister and had in his pocket a list of close comrades in Korea for cabinet posts, but his expectations diminished sharply at the entrance of Admiral Yonai. Before he could question Yonai, Kido appeared to usher the two into His Majesty’s presence. Who should go first? asked the general, and Kido replied, “Koiso.” But the Emperor treated both of them exactly alike. He said they would have to co-operate in forming a new cabinet and warned them not to antagonize Russia.

  Yonai was as mystified as Koiso and when the audience was over, he asked Marquis Kido which one was prime minister. “Koiso, of course,” said the Privy Seal.

  What a strange conversation! Koiso thought. He turned to Yonai. “What office are you going to take? Navy minister?”

  “That’s the only post I’m capable of filling,” the admiral replied.

  Tojo’s forced resignation gave his wife a sense of relief. Now, at least, the daily hazard of assassination was over. (Coincidentally, Tojo’s ally Adolf Hitler had just barely escaped death from a bomb explosion.) Her reasoning was correct. Admiral Takagi, for instance, canceled his plan to gun down Tojo, who had now joined the distinguished but purely advisory circle of jushin.

  2.

  Although General MacArthur had been given a target date to invade the Philippines—a preliminary landing at Mindanao to establish airfields, followed three weeks later by a major one at Leyte—the Joint Chiefs had suggested in mid-June that he by-pass the other Philippine islands, including Luzon, and leapfrog all the way from Leyte to Formosa. This would, in effect, eliminate MacArthur’s cherished role as Liberator of the Philippines, and his reply was in keeping with his indignation:

  … THE PHILIPPINES IS AMERICAN TERRITORY WHERE OUR UNSUPPORTED FORCES WERE DESTROYED BY THE ENEMY. PRACTICALLY ALL OF THE 17,000,000 FILIPINOS REMAIN LOYAL TO THE UNITED STATES AND ARE UNDERGOING THE GREATEST PRIVATION AND SUFFERING BECAUSE WE HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO SUPPORT OR SUCCOR THEM. WE HAVE A GREAT NATIONAL OBLIGATION TO DISCHARGE.

  MOREOVER, IF THE UNITED STATES SHOULD DELIBERATELY BYPASS THE PHILIPPINES, LEAVING OUR PRISONERS, NATIONALS, AND LOYAL FILIPINOS IN ENEMY HANDS WITHOUT AN EFFORT TO RETRIEVE THEM AT EARLIEST MOMENT, WE WOULD INCUR THE GRAVEST PSYCHOLOGICAL REACTION. WE WOULD ADMIT
THE TRUTH OF JAPANESE PROPAGANDA TO THE EFFECT THAT WE HAD ABANDONED THE FILIPINOS AND WOULD NOT SHED AMERICAN BLOOD TO REDEEM THEM; WE WOULD UNDOUBTEDLY INCUR THE OPEN HOSTILITY OF THAT PEOPLE; WE WOULD PROBABLY SUFFER SUCH LOSS OF PRESTIGE AMONG ALL THE PEOPLES OF THE FAR EAST THAT IT WOULD ADVERSELY AFFECT THE UNITED STATES FOR MANY YEARS.…

  Marshall replied with a forceful admonition “not to let personal feelings and Philippine politics” overshadow his primary objective, the winning of the war. He asserted that “bypassing” was by no means “synonymous with abandonment.” MacArthur, however, was offered the opportunity of reviewing the matter directly with the President. The occasion was to be an unprecedented meeting five weeks hence in Hawaii between Roosevelt, MacArthur and Nimitz. Marshall, Arnold and King were not invited; it was an indication to King that the President, with the Democrats holding their national convention in Chicago, “wished to emphasize his role as Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy.”

  Roosevelt and his party boarded the heavy cruiser Baltimore at San Diego the day after he was nominated for a fourth term. Early in the afternoon of July 26 the cruiser, presidential flag flapping at the main, passed Diamond Head. MacArthur, whose plane had just landed after the long trip from Brisbane, met the President at the pier. The general was still in his winter uniform.

  “Douglas,” chided Admiral Leahy, a friend for almost forty years, “why don’t you wear the right kind of clothes when you come up here to see us?”

  “Well, you haven’t been where I came from, and it’s cold up there in the sky.”

  The presidential party passed through long lines of soldiers and a cheering crowd to the site of the conference, a palatial private home on Waikiki Beach. There was no longer need to debate priorities of men and materiel, nor was there any question of the success of whatever was to come. After dinner Roosevelt pointed to Mindanao on a map of the Pacific and said, “Douglas, where do we go from here?”

  “Leyte, Mr. President, and then Luzon!” MacArthur expounded at length on the advisability of seizing Luzon before invading Formosa. Nimitz made no comment.

  The next morning formal talks began in a large living room whose walls were covered with operational maps. Using a long bamboo pointer, MacArthur again urged the occupation of Luzon. This time Nimitz countered, also aided by the pointer, with his own plan for striking directly at Formosa. Roosevelt leaned back in his wheelchair, relishing the lesson in geography. Tactfully he narrowed down the points of disagreement. But his mediation was not necessary. Nimitz, a good listener, finally accepted the validity of MacArthur’s argument that national honor and strategy made the liberation of all the Philippines essential before moving on to Formosa.

  After lunch MacArthur assured Roosevelt there would be no friction between him and Nimitz. “We see eye to eye, Mr. President,” he said. “We understand each other perfectly.” Later, as his plane took off for Brisbane, he turned to an aide with a triumphant “We’ve sold it!”

  While the Americans prepared the complex strategy leading up to the Leyte invasion—which was given a definite date, December 20—Imperial Headquarters in Tokyo was attempting to guess their intentions. A “Plan for the Conduct of Future Operations” envisaged attacks on four areas: the Philippines; Formosa and Okinawa; the home islands; and the Kuriles in the north. Though it was given the optimistic name SHO-GO (Operation Victory), it was a plan born of desperation, a series of last-ditch defenses. It was obvious that the Philippines was the next American objective—SHO-1—and it was agreed that this should be made the scene of the Final Decisive Battle both on land and sea.

  The question was where and how to meet this challenge and force this confrontation into a genuinely conclusive conflict. It was a problem of geography. The Philippine archipelago, almost 7,100 islands, lay some 500 miles off the mainland of Asia, 230 miles south of Formosa. It extended 1,150 miles from Mindanao due north through the Visayans—the central islands including Cebu and Leyte—to Luzon, the largest and most important island. Only eleven of the islands had an area larger than one thousand square miles and two of these, Mindanao and Luzon, comprised more than two thirds of the total land area. Strategically, however, Leyte—one-thirteenth the size of Mindanao—was equally important. It was in the heart of the archipelago, and its spacious gulf was an invitation to an invasion from the sea.

  Southern Army’s operations officer wanted to oppose the Americans wherever they landed first—which would be somewhere in the south—before they had a chance to set up bases. But he was overruled by the Army General Staff. It would be impossible to predict exactly where the enemy would first strike. Rather than disperse troops on a number of southern islands, the bulk should be concentrate on Luzon, which had the best roads and could be most easily defended.

  The conquest of the Philippines called for combined sea and land operations of a magnitude never before attempted by the United States. MacArthur would lead the assault, but he would have Nimitz’ full support. It was the Navy’s task to neutralize Japanese air power. The first strike was delivered on September 6 by Vice Admiral Marc Mitscher’s Task Force 38. For three days his bombers hit the Palaus, 550 miles due east of Mindanao. Then he shifted the attack to Mindanao itself on September 9 and 10.

  These aerial raids spurred Japanese preparations for the defense of the Philippines. In Manila, Field Marshal Terauchi, whose Southern Army was charged with the defense of the vast area from New Guinea to Burma, believed with Tokyo that ground-based planes could sink most of the enemy convoys before they beached. But the local commander of ground troops, Lieutenant General Shigenori Kuroda of the 14th Area Army, argued that the concept was good but you couldn’t “fight with concept alone. Words will not sink American ships and that becomes clear when you compare our aircraft with theirs.” Japanese air power was negligible and the battle would have to be won on land.

  There was even disagreement on how this kind of battle should be fought. “Annihilation at the Beachhead” had been standard operating procedure in all previous invasions. But opposition to this policy was growing. Beach defenses had proved helpless against naval bombardment followed by a determined assault. Imperial Headquarters ordered Terauchi to set up resistance in depth.

  The order was passed on to the officer responsible for the defense of Mindanao and the Visayans—Lieutenant General Sosaku Suzuki, who had once been rudely roused out of bed in Malaya by an indignant Colonel Tsuji.§ He commanded the 35th Army, the equivalent of a U. S. Army Corps, and had headquarters in Cebu City. The general was described by his colleagues as a gentle man “of great heart” and “straight as bamboo.”

  Suzuki not only feared the American invasion would come sooner than his superiors in Tokyo and Manila did (he told his chief of staff to expect a landing about the first of October) but predicted correctly that the enemy would concentrate his attack on Leyte. He placed the 30th Division in northern Mindanao so it could quickly be transferred to Leyte. But immediate events made him doubt his own prophecy. On September 10 a message arrived from a naval observation unit that the enemy was landing near Davao on the south coast of Mindanao. Two hours later another report arrived:

  AMERICAN MARINES USING AMPHIBIOUS TANKS HAVE LANDED ON SOUTHERN TIP OF SMALL ISLAND LOCATED ACROSS THE BANKS FROM DAVAO.

  Suzuki transfered the 30th Division back to the south of Mindanao and alerted Manila. The Fourth Air Army began ferrying planes from New Guinea to the Philippines while Combined Fleet alerted its forces for SHO-1. But there had been no enemy landing. Observers on a hill overlooking the bay had mistaken choppy waves for landing craft.

  “Let this mishap be a lesson,” Suzuki told his staff. The next time, he trusted, they would not act so precipitously.

  Two days later Mitscher resumed his attacks, which would eventually sweep up through the Philippines all the way to Okinawa. Within forty-eight hours, 2,400 sorties had been launched at the Visayans. The damage was so complete and the American casualty rate so minimal that Admiral Halsey, who commanded T
hird Fleet (which now included most of the ships in Spruance’s old Fifth Fleet), asked himself why the Leyte invasion date should not be advanced. He sat in a corner of the bridge of the battleship New Jersey and “thought it over.” It was really none of his business and might “upset a great many applecarts, possibly all the way up to Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Churchill,” but it might also “cut months off the war.”

  Halsey summoned his chief of staff, Robert (“Mick”) Carney, and his secretary, Harold Stassen, and said, “I’m going to stick my neck out. Send an urgent dispatch to CINCPAC.” It recommended cancellation of preliminary operations on Yap, Morotai and Mindanao, and seizure of Leyte “at the earliest possible date.” Nimitz forwarded the dispatch to Quebec, where Roosevelt and Churchill were again meeting. The boldness of Halsey’s suggestion intrigued them, but they needed MacArthur’s blessing.

  The general was aboard Nashville on his way to Morotai, one of the Spice Islands between New Guinea and Mindanao, the next to the last step on his route to the Philippines. Nashville was under radio silence, and the decision rested on MacArthur’s chief of staff, General Sutherland, who had remained in New Guinea. He knew his chief would welcome an earlier liberation of the Philippines, so, in MacArthur’s name, he radioed Quebec that the invasion of Leyte could take place on October 20, two months ahead of schedule.

  On September 15 MacArthur’s troops landed unopposed on Morotai while Halsey’s were meeting stiff resistance on Pelelieu, one of the Palau islands.ǁ Six days later Mitscher continued his devastating sweeps of the Philippines. Daringly he brought his carriers to within forty miles of the east coast of Luzon to launch four air strikes at the Manila area. The strips at Clark and Nichols fields were plowed up, more than two hundred planes destroyed and the shipping in Manila Bay ravaged. Only fifteen U. S. aircraft were lost and no Japanese plane was able to break through the screen protecting Task Force 38.