Pearl Harbour - A novel of December 8th

by Newt Gingrich

  “And as a Westerner, who were you cheering for?” Mikawa asked.

  Cecil smiled. “I prefer underdogs.”

  “The way England now is against Hitler?”

  Cecil did not reply and looked out the window.

  They were now pushing into the center of Hanoi, encountering a confusing myriad of traffic, the cooling breeze of earlier in their drive, and conversation, replaced now with boiling heat. Mikawa refilled his cut-glass tumbler with ice, a splash of bourbon, and the rest Vichy water, Cecil doing the same. He wished he could scoop out more of the ice and rub his neck and forehead with it, an absurd thought, but he did wonder how anyone could stand this place for long in midsummer; it felt worse than India. He looked ahead, to the confusion of traffic, the ox carts, the shops closed now during the midday heat, and yes, the beautiful young women on bicycles slowly weaving their way past the car, which had been reduced to a crawl.

  “This big event you mentioned,” Cecil asked, breaking the silence.

  “Oh yes, you did answer my question, so now it is my turn,” Mikawa replied.

  Cecil looked back at him.

  “Starting at midnight tonight Japan will occupy all of French Indochina.” Stunned, Cecil could not reply for a moment, his mind racing. Their move of earlier this year forcing the French to allow air bases in the north of Indochina to prosecute Japan’s war in China proper had triggered a firestorm of protest from Roosevelt. America had notched up its stance, now openly sending supplies to the Nationalists through Burma, and contrary to accepted international law, was allowing its military officers to take “leaves of absence” without loss of seniority or benefits, to volunteer as pilots and advisors to the Nationalists.

  It had angered him as well, for it showed how craven the Vichy government truly was, to cave in to Japanese demands without a fight. For all practical purposes it meant that here, in the Pacific, France was now openly allied with Japan.

  But the blowback from such a move, he did not understand.

  “Our transport ships are already approaching the harbors at Hue, Haiphong, and Saigon. There will be no conflict. By this time tomorrow naval units will be in the harbor, troops occupying key positions and aircraft moving down from China and launched from carriers to establish bases. The French administration will stay in place but will now be assisted by us in an advisory role.”

  Cecil could hear the touch of mocking disdain in Mikawa’s voice when he said “advisory role”; it meant that Europeans were now puppets answering to their new master in the East.

  “Why?” Cecil finally asked. “You and I both know that Roosevelt has already made it clear that such a move would provoke the harshest of economic embargoes on your country. Is the trade-off really worth it?”

  Mikawa stiffened slightly.

  “Always it is Roosevelt. What right does America have to meddle in our affairs and relations with France here in the Orient? A colony is always more advantageous when it comes to such things,” Matawa replied. “Would you want your India as a colony or an independent nation making far more difficult trade agreements? We are at war and we need Indochina, it is that simple. Why this should upset America is beyond us.”

  “Because America sees it as yet another step in your Imperialism and will wonder what next. It is the same question we had to ask ourselves three years ago when Hitler kept making one demand, and then another, and another and each time Chamberlain backed down, until finally there were no more comers to back into.”

  Their car, which felt like the inside of an oven, finally crawled up to the jammed intersection at the center of the city, a mad swirling kaleidoscope of carts, cycles, autos, the occasional rickshaw, and a lone French gendarme signaling and waving his baton like an orchestra conductor. He saw their car, the flag on the fender, and like the previous policeman, turned away and made them wait.

  “Damn French,” Mikawa muttered, and though he did not say it, Cecil felt the same, even more so now with the news just given. Their caving in of the previous year had left England alone, to survive by the narrowest of margins; their actions here now in the Pacific might very well be the domino falling that would truly trigger total war in the Pacific. The gendarme finally turned back to them and with a dismissive wave, gestured for them to cross the crowded intersection. A few blocks ahead Cecil could see the flag of the Japanese Consulate Office.

  “What about my hotel?” he asked.

  “Oh, given the sentiment in the streets these days by the French, we thought it safer if you would be our guest for the evening before your return flight tomorrow.”

  He paused for a moment, smile still the same. “And besides, it would be tiresome for all concerned. You’ll be tempted to somehow try and make a phone call or get a message out regarding the secret I just shared with you, and I’d have to place a dozen agents to watch you, when I prefer to see them used elsewhere today.”

  “You mean I flew all the way down here to be your guest, and tomorrow will be sent packing?”

  “Please don’t see it that way, sir,” Mikawa replied softly. “You will have your byline of reporting from Hanoi on the day we occupy this country, which will make your newspaper happy with your scoop, and as first alluded to, we would like your message to your friend to move as swiftly as possible.”

  “With your occupation of Indochina,” Cecil said sharply, “my government can but see one thing clearly. The bases you now have will be seen as a direct threat within striking range of our interests in Malaya and Singapore. I think you will hear a very sharp reaction from Parliament the moment this becomes public.”

  “And that is precisely why our government was more than happy to allow you this visit here at this time. We want a message conveyed back personally from a Western observer to his trusted friend.” Cecil did not respond for a moment. Of course they knew, they most likely knew ever since Nanking, that he was in the employ of Churchill. First privately when Churchill was out of office, and since May of 1940, officially part of British intelligence in the Far East, still maintaining the guise of a correspondent while having the unique portfolio of reporting only to, and directly to, the prime minister.

  “Go on,” he finally said.

  “Our move into Indochina should in no way be construed as a buildup to a threat against your holdings in the south. The last thing we desire is a conflict with England. Our primary concern is to finish this war in China. The economic burden it has created for us is crippling, and unless soon brought to a successful conclusion will bankrupt us.”

  “That is revealing much to you and showing even our weakness. We ask that if the prime minister can use his influence to stay Roosevelt and his threats the situation can be resolved to the benefit of all.”

  “And if not?” Cecil asked, “assuming somehow that I actually can convey this message of yours.”

  “We prefer the message be a positive one; speculations about ‘if not,’ as you put it, are fruitless.”

  Mikawa acted as if he were hesitating but then continued. “Sir, the performance of your air force in defending your home island was superb. The entire world watched with awe. But as to your army and navy on distant fronts? Dare I mention the complete debacle of but little more than two months ago in Greece, Crete, the current rout in North Africa? Does England really wish to engage in yet another war, a war against a modem navy and not just a motley collection of ships that the Germans have, and to do so on a front ten thousand miles away? I daresay your government must realize that peril, and I daresay as well that your public would wish to avoid such a conflict at all cost, given that you are still fighting for your life with an enemy but twenty-five miles off your coast.”

  “Please think on that and please convey our desire for your government’s understanding regarding the action to take place tomorrow, and the consequences if they do not, and please convey our strongest wish that your government move to bridle in Roosevelt.”

  Cecil bristled at what was now an open threat but said nothing. T
here was nothing he could or should say now. The message was what should concern him. But the term “bridle”--he wondered if that was deliberate, with the insult fully intended.

  “After all, for both you and America, the real enemy is Germany, not us. Let us fulfill what we must and then perhaps a warmer understanding between us can be achieved.”

  Cecil looked at the agent sitting beside him and could sense the cynicism behind the offer. There was but one reason for Japan to occupy all of Indochina and to ignore the threat, which Roosevelt would fully carry out, regardless of what Churchill might say ... to impose an oil embargo, which most certainly would trigger a war.

  The bastards no longer care, he realized, and they actually think they can beat us. And there was a moment of fear in Cecil’s heart. If their full fury was turned against Singapore, the East Indies, and any sortie offered by the Americans, at this moment, they most likely would beat us here. It means war is inevitable, Cecil thought to himself as the car finally lurched to a halt and he was shown in, with great ceremony, to the Consulate Office, his prison for the night, before being sent back the following day as messenger boy, bearing a useless message which he knew with utter certainty was a lie.

  Aboard the USS Augusta Argentina Bay, Newfoundland 12 August 1941

  “Franklin, I will miss you when we part today.” Churchill smiled warmly at his friend and ally. “Our new Atlantic Charter sets the moral stage for what we must do. Now our staffs will have to think through all the practical steps to make our victory certain and our future desirable.”

  “You have to return to the war in London, and I have to return to a different war in Washington. We just got word that the draft was extended by one vote in the House of Representatives. Can you imagine it! One vote! Here we are in the middle of a world at war, and my friends in Congress cannot see their duty with any clarity,” the president asserted with vehemence.

  “What’s even more amazing, Mr. President, is that the American people are now ahead of their elected representatives.” Harry Hopkins leaned into the conversation with familiar ease. “Fortune has a poll in which three out of every four Americans believe Hitler is trying to conquer the world, and a solid majority believe we will have to defeat him militarily.”

  “Mr. President, I feel that despite all our problems in Russia, North Africa, and the Atlantic, I also have to remind you that we could face a very nasty situation in the Pacific,” Churchill replied, his eyes focused on FDR.

  “I have a source I trust who has been touring French Indochina and other places, and he is convinced the Japanese are going to move south soon to grab the oil of the Netherlands East Indies. We shall have to support our Dutch allies, and we have very little to send to stop the Japanese. I am scraping the bottom of the barrel. I think I can find a few ships to establish a presence, but I cannot build a Pacific battle fleet capable of defending the East Indies region. I can hold Singapore, which we have spent twenty years building up, but I am afraid your forces will have to do any heavy lifting in the Pacific.”

  FDR nodded yes and pointed toward General Marshall and Admiral Stark.

  “We have already decided to quadruple the number of B-17s in the Philippines to thirty-six. Those strategic bombers will serve as strategic deterrent to the Japanese because we will be able to bomb their supply lines if they try to move south. I would send some battleships, but as Stark told Admiral Pound, we have a big problem with the mechanical systems on our newest battleships, and they have to be refitted. We simply have nothing to send.

  “Maybe you could send a few key ships such as that beautiful new battleship you came over on.” FDR motioned toward the Prince of Wales lying at anchor a few hundred yards away.

  “Together, my friend, we will draw together the will and the forces to stop the Japanese. I just hope we can convince them to accept peaceful negotiations. Britain does not need a second major war at this time, and we do not need your strength diverted to the Pacific,” Churchill responded.

  “You have my word, America will continue to focus on defeating Germany no matter what happens,” FDR responded.

  Tokyo, Office of the Foreign Minister: 18 August 1941

  The day was boiling hot, more like Washington in August than Japan, which usually gets some cooling breaks. Dressed in formal diplomatic attire, Ambassador Joseph Grew felt as if he were already swimming in a sea of sweat beneath his suit, vest, button-down collar, and tie.

  His limousine, parked in front of the office of the foreign minister, had the traditional American flags mounted on the front. A cordon of security guards kept a watchful eye as a servant of the foreign minister opened the car door for him, bowing low. Passers-by paused at the sight of him and his cane. An elderly couple, making eye contact, stopped in their tracks and bowed low, and he returned the gesture with a polite nod. Several army officers were walking by; there was a whispered exchange at the sight of the flag and they slowed, but a security agent quickly rushed up to them, snapping an order for them to move on. Reluctantly they agreed, but the eye contact with Grew was cold, icy. He ignored them.

  At the open doorway, in a most unusual gesture, stood the new foreign minister, Teijiro Toyoda, a former admiral of the navy, a replacement for the hotheaded Matsuoka, who had so aggressively dragged their two countries closer to the abyss.

  Teijiro even made the unusual gesture of coming down the steps to greet him, old training first causing him to begin to raise his hand in a military salute, but then it fell to his side as he bowed formally, then offered his hand to shake.

  “The heat, it is killing,” Teijiro offered, and Grew nodded in agreement as they walked into the ministry and quickly down the hall to the Foreign Minister’s Office, the hallway cleared of all traffic as the two passed.

  If anything, once inside the office with doors closed, the heat was even more stifling. The new luxury of air-conditioning was all but unknown yet in Japan, where such days of intense heat were relatively rare. Already waiting and standing politely to one side was Teijiro’s interpreter and, as usual, Grew had his own young assistant following in his wake.

  The formalities disappeared within seconds.

  “Mr. Ambassador, may I make a friendly suggestion?” Teijiro offered. “Let us get out of these ridiculous coats and ties. I’ll have ice and towels fetched for us.”

  Grew smiled and found an instant liking for this man. He was not a bureaucratic climber such as the detestable Matsuoka; but instead a military man, one who had come up through the standard ranks to command of a battleship in his Imperial Navy. He had that weathered look of a man who had seen many years at sea on the bridge of a ship, keeping watch, someone who instantly struck Grew as no-nonsense, with the reputation of a straight talker rather than a smooth one.

  All four shed their formal clothing with sighs, Teijiro going so far as to unbutton the two top buttons of his shirt. Iced tea was brought in on an ornate silver tray along with a large silver bucket, beading with moisture, small hand towels on another tray. Teijiro, without ceremony, scooped out a handful of ice, wrapped a towel around it and rubbed it against the back of his neck and face, sighing audibly. “Sir, I thought I was about to faint while waiting for your arrival.”

  “And I, sir, thought I’d faint when caught in traffic getting over here,” Grew said, with a smile, warming to this man.

  Their two assistants had sat motionless, at least shedding their jackets, and Teijiro, shaking his head, told them to pick up some iced towels as well and drink their iced tea, speaking with a slightly booming voice, like that of a commander at sea, the two a bit nervous but gratefully complying.

  Teijiro had already redecorated his office in the short time since the Emperor had requested of Prime Minister Konoye that the old cabinet be dissolved and a new one called to order. Gone were Matsuoka’s collection of antique prints and numerous photos of himself with various dignitaries, including Hitler and Stalin. Instead there was simply a map of Japan, another one of China, and various nautic
al prints, some in the traditional Japanese style, others Western looking, along with several photographs of ships he had once commanded.

  After draining a glass of iced tea, and taking a minute to let the rapidly melting ice in his towel soak through, cooling his neck so that a rivulet of cool water trickled down his back, Grew felt it was time to bring the meeting to order. Given that it was he who was asked to “attend to the Foreign Minister,” protocol was for his host to open the main point of discussion.

  “I believe I can speak plainly and to the point,” Teijiro opened, and Grew nodded encouragingly.

  “Though I am now in this office, my training of a lifetime was in the navy. We do not mince words; there is no time to do so when a typhoon is about to strike and you must prepare your ship or all will perish.”

  “I concur,” Grew said softly, nodding for him to continue even as his own interpreter translated what Teijiro was saying.

  “The embargo of all goods, but especially oil, laid down by your president will force a terrible crisis. Japan must import a minimum of eighty thousand barrels of oil a day just to barely sustain itself; anything less and reserves, precious reserves saved up over years, must be tapped.”

  “Such an amount of oil for you Americans is trivial. Your citizens most likely bum ten times that amount each weekend merely to go to the beach or mountains. For us it is now a lifeblood, and the embargo is a stranglehold upon us. Blockade us from your oil, for which we are willing to pay fair market value, and in short order our economy will collapse entirely.”

  “Withdraw from Indochina and I am certain my government will reconsider the actions it felt were necessary to protest your takeover of a neutral country.”

  “Neutral?” Teijiro asked and shook his head. “The British are at war with the Vichy government, already engaged in combat against them in Palestine, Lebanon, Syria. One could see this as the removal of a potential enemy for your side.”