1942 Read online

  1942

  Robert Conroy

  1942

  Robert Conroy

  INTRODUCTION

  The attack on Pearl Harbor has resulted in vast amounts of speculative literature, much of it seen through the clear light of hindsight and, therefore, quite useless. Some have focused on the possibility of a plot on the part of President Roosevelt to get us into war with Japan. Not only has this been unproven but the rationale defies logic. Simply put, there was no motive. Roosevelt wanted us to go to war with Germany, not Japan.

  Still, others feel that we had ample warning because we had broken the Japanese codes, which is partly true. We had broken the diplomatic codes but not the military codes, and the Japanese diplomats in Washington were totally out of the loop. They did not know that the attack on Pearl Harbor was coming.

  However, there are items of fact that, had they occurred as they were expected to, would have changed the course of the war in the Pacific. The planned final strike on Pearl Harbor by Admiral Nagumo’s fleet is one such item. Admiral Yamamoto had counted on it, and the Japanese pilots wished it, but Admiral Nagumo flinched in the face of success and denied it. He was happy with a partial victory and afraid of losing both precious pilots and his ships should the missing American carriers suddenly show up. In effect, Nagumo stole defeat from the jaws of victory.

  1942 is the story of what would quite likely have occurred if Nagumo had been persuaded to let his pilots attack the oil storage facilities, machine shops, and dry docks at Pearl Harbor. Such a seemingly innocuous event and such prosaic targets, involving only a few score planes and resulting in a few hundred additional casualties at most, could have changed the course of the war in the Pacific.

  Indeed, many of the changes could have been permanent and vastly to the advantage of the Japanese.

  Initially, the changes to history resulting from the final strike would have been small. For instance, I have Admiral Nimitz replacing Admiral Kimmel at a slightly earlier date, as well as Admiral King superseding Admiral Stark in Washington as the extent and implications of the revised disaster become known. Other changes evolve as they would have logically developed as history begins to change.

  To simplify matters and make the reader comfortable, I have used the American way of giving the names of the Japanese participants, rather than the Japanese way. Also, I have largely ignored the ramifications of the International Date Line.

  And whether what I refer to as the final strike would have been the second or third strike depends on whether one counts the attacks on Pearl Harbor as one or two events.

  Everything I’ve written and all the facts, right or wrong, are products of my own research and imagination.

  PROLOGUE

  Admiral Chuichi Nagumo clasped his hands behind him and glowered as he looked down and across the flight deck of his flagship, the carrier Akagi. The ship’s crew lined the deck and lustily cheered each returning hero, and it was both astonishing and exhilarating to see how many of the brave young eagles were home from their morning of triumph.

  Why then was he so disturbed? The surprise attack on Pearl Harbor had been an overwhelming success that had exceeded virtually all expectations. He had accomplished everything he reasonably felt that he could. Why then did he have this feeling of uneasiness at what should have been the most glorious moment in his life?

  Nagumo felt that he knew the answer, and it disturbed him. He was fifty-five, not too old for active command, but he was a man whose career had been without combat experience and bridged several developing technologies. By training and inclination, he was a big-gun man, a battleship man, a believer in traditional surface fighting. Nagumo had served on destroyers and cruisers, and commanded the battleship Yamashiro before his promotion to rear admiral and appointment to preside over the Naval Staff College. He was not a pilot and had never before served on an aircraft carrier.

  But in April 1941, Nagumo had been promoted to command the First Air Fleet, which consisted of six carriers and more than four hundred planes. He had then been tasked to command the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, which would launch Japan into a war with the United States. Because of America’s naval might, total surprise was essential to the attack’s success. Nagumo had thought it too risky and had protested. His superior, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, had overruled him, and he had done as ordered to the best of his abilities.

  Kido Butai was the name of the task force that included the six carriers, along with two battleships and attending cruisers and destroyers. When it sailed from northern Japan in late November, Nagumo had been cut off from the rest of the world.

  To ensure secrecy, his ships kept total radio silence, and the enforced loneliness preyed on his doubts, causing him moments of near despair. Despite maintaining a stoic exterior, Nagumo was terrified that the Kido Butai would be located and either forced to withdraw in shame or defeated by the angered Americans, who had many more battleships than he.

  While he commanded six carriers, Nagumo was still convinced that the battleship, and not the upstart and unproven carrier, was the queen of battle. No modern Japanese fleet had ever been defeated, and Nagumo had a deathly fear that his would be the first.

  With luck and skill, they had made it to the launch point without detection. Incredibly, they caught the Americans by surprise and quickly eliminated the American battle line. The American battleship force in the Pacific was destroyed in an overwhelming victory for the Empire of Japan.

  So why then was he still in turmoil?

  Again, he knew the answer to his own dilemma. Along with some of his senior admirals, the young Turks in his command wanted more. They did not agree with him that the battleships were their main objective; they weren’t satisfied with what he considered a total victory, and Nagumo was afraid that their greed would ruin him.

  However, Nagumo felt compelled to listen to two of the most vocal of his critics. Commander Minoru Genda had planned the attack and was a protege of Yamamoto’s. Genda had fervently argued that the next war, the one Nagumo had just started, would be fought with carriers, and not battleships, as the main protagonists. Genda had been ill; otherwise, he would have been in a plane observing the battle. The thirty-seven-year-old commander was fearless as well as brilliant.

  Nagumo thought Genda’s idea was preposterous, but then he reminded himself that he commanded six carriers whose planes had just destroyed at least that many battleships. It was very disturbing, and he acknowledged the irony that he now worried about the American carriers, and not their battleships.

  The second voice that had to be listened to belonged to Lieutenant Commander Mitsuo Fuchida. Fuchida was thirty-nine, flight commander of the Akagi, and had commanded the first wave over Pearl Harbor. His excited voice had signaled that the surprise had been absolute. Fuchida’s uniform was dirty and strain showed on his face, but his eyes were bright, and Nagumo knew the younger man was like a tiger yearning to be unleashed.

  Nagumo shook his head. “We have overstayed our welcome. We must depart before the Americans locate us and attack. Our carriers are precious and cannot be squandered. Had the American carriers been in Pearl Harbor and had they been destroyed, there would be no question about launching another attack. As it is, Halsey’s carriers could be approaching us as we speak and could be preparing a devastating attack. Even a thief,” he added with a grim smile, “knows not to return to the scene of the crime.”

  “We are warriors, not thieves,” Genda said softly, in a voice that was nearly a hiss. It was important that others in the vicinity not hear their argument. “We have six carriers to their two, and, more important, we are operating as a unit while they departed Pearl Harbor singly. Any American attack would be piecemeal and easily contained. Also, the Americans have no battleships to protect them while
we have two. Let the American carriers find us and we will destroy them as completely as we destroyed their battle fleet.”

  Nagumo reluctantly agreed with Genda’s math. Along with the Akagi, the other five Japanese carriers were the Kaga, Shokaku, Zuikaku, Hiryu, and Soryu, and they carried a total of 423 combat planes in a deadly mix of fighters, bombers, and torpedo bombers. The two battleships were the Hiei and the Kirishima, and they would easily out-gun any other surface warship the Americans now possessed. America’s big-gun ships lay in the muck of Pearl Harbor.

  The missing American carriers were the Lexington and the Enterprise, which had only recently departed Pearl Harbor. Japanese intelligence, as provided by spies from their Honolulu consulate, had proven excellent.

  Genda was correct that the two American carriers had only a third of what his six carried and that they were at sea in two separate commands. The Americans had not yet learned the principle of unity. Divide and be conquered appeared to be their strategy.

  Genda declined to mention that a third carrier, the Saratoga, might also be in the area, although it was more likely she was still off California. Such information might have further upset his surprisingly timid admiral.

  “Admiral,” Genda continued in a whisper, “with utmost respect, may I speak freely?”

  The comment broke the tension, and Nagumo smiled at the intense young man, whom he genuinely liked. “Has it ever been otherwise, Genda? You have always spoken your mind.”

  “Then please let me remind you of our objectives, which were threefold. First, we were to destroy the American battleships and, second, the carriers along with their heavy cruiser escorts.” Genda felt that the order of precedence was reversed but discreetly said otherwise.

  “Our third and final task was to destroy the oil storage and maintenance facilities at Pearl, thus eliminating its usefulness as a base. We have accomplished only one of those three goals, in that the battleships are destroyed. Fuchida says at least four are sunk and three others badly damaged.

  “As to the carriers and cruisers, it is simply bad luck that they are at sea. They are gone, and there is nothing we can do about it. But if we destroy Pearl Harbor as a base, neither the missing carriers nor the replacement battleships the Americans are sure to send from the Atlantic will have a home to return to. All of Hawaii will be useless to the Americans, until and if they replace what they will lose if you will only permit us to attack once more.”

  Nagumo wavered. The attack was indeed part of the plans, and the oil and dock facilities were extremely important targets. Again, Genda was correct. The Americans had lost badly, but they had other battleships in the Atlantic, and, since they were not yet at war with Germany, they would likely transfer some of those to fight Japan. It occurred to him that they might even transfer other carriers. The United States had been hurt, but far from fatally or even permanently.

  He agonized. Perhaps he was being too cautious, too shocked by the ease of victory.

  “We will suffer heavily,” Nagumo said. He hated the thought of losing the brave young men under his command. In the earlier attacks, he had lost an astoundingly low number considering the risks entailed. However, most of those lost had been from the second wave. By that time, the Americans were alert and outraged, and had fought like furies with what weapons remained at their disposal. This meant that a final attack would be against an aroused and infuriated enemy.

  “We have all trained to fight,” Genda answered, “and fighting involves dying. Fuchida has a plan, and I am confident that an attack focused solely on the oil storage and dry dock facilities can be an overwhelming success with minimal losses.”

  “Then you would not need a large force?”

  Genda and Fuchida exulted. Their admiral was coming around to their way of thinking. Nagumo had extended a straw, and they would grasp it.

  Fuchida spoke for the first time. “That is correct, Admiral, a large force would not be necessary. We can change our plans and attack with a greatly reduced number. I would wish a screen of forty or so Zero fighters and a main force of sixty Kate bombers. Torpedo planes would be useless against land targets, and the remainder of the aircraft would be kept with the fleet for defensive purposes.

  “My plan is simple. The storage tanks and docks are located just to the east of the narrow entrance to the harbor itself. We will approach from the south in a thin line of planes. As if they were a spear point, Zeros will precede the bombers and attack any antiaircraft positions protecting the target areas. They will attack low and fast, and then take on any American planes that rise to challenge us. The shaft of the spear, the Kates, will come in higher and then either dive-bomb or level-bomb first the dry dock facilities behind the oil storage tanks and then the oil tanks themselves. That priority ensures that smoke from burning oil does not interfere with the attack on the dry docks. A smaller group will veer off and attack the storage tanks behind the submarine pens. The smoke from the burning warships was a hindrance during the latter part of the second attack.”

  Fuchida’s voice rose as his enthusiasm increased. “Our pilots will escape by flying over Ford Island and across other fleet maintenance areas at Pearl City, which they will attack if there are bombs remaining. At that point the planes will turn west and fly away from the island. As you are aware, the targets are very close together. It will take but a few minutes to accomplish their destruction.”

  Fuchida knew it would not be that simple. In order to hit the oil facilities, they would first have to fly over Hickam Field, which was sure to be well defended by American antiaircraft guns. Nor could the planes turn and head west without placing themselves between Wheeler Field and the Marine air base at Ewa. If the Americans reacted quickly, the casualties would be severe.

  However, most of the American planes had already been destroyed on the ground, and it was unlikely that the few that got in the air against the attack would be able to coordinate their efforts. Both Fuchida and Genda thought it was a risk well worth taking.

  Fuchida smiled. “Admiral, the battleship Pennsylvania is in one of the dry docks, as are the cruisers San Francisco and Honolulu, and we do not believe either is badly damaged. Therefore, when we get the docks, we will sink the Pennsylvania and the other ships, adding another battleship to the tally.”

  Nagumo was in turmoil. Genda was right about the desirability of destroying the oil tanks and the dry docks, and the virtually unharmed Pennsylvania was a truly tempting target. Fuchida was right about utilizing only a small number of planes in a localized attack on a target that was tantalizingly close to the safety of the ocean. Japanese planes would be able to attack directly from the sea and not overfly much of Oahu at all. They would not be subject to antiaircraft until the very last moment. It was brilliant. It would save lives.

  “Admiral,” Genda said, “the planes are fueled and armed, and the pilots are ready to go. This entire event can be over and done with in little more than three hours. At that time, the fleet can steam northward and be many miles away from here before nightfall.”

  “How will you select the pilots?”

  Genda chuckled, and Nagumo smiled at the foolishness of his own question. “Admiral, if I ask for volunteers, everyone will step forward. No, I will select only those I consider the best and bravest from among the best and bravest men in the world.”

  The first attack had been launched at six in the morning, while the carriers pitched in the deep swells. There had been no mishaps, and the second wave had followed forty-five minutes later. By eight o’clock, the assaults had commenced and war with the United States had begun with a tremendous Japanese victory. Two hours later, it was over and almost all the planes had returned. Only twenty-nine had been shot down, and another seventy damaged.

  Nagumo again fretted and regretted the loneliness of command.

  He wondered what Yamamoto would do and heard himself answer that his intimidating superior was a predator who would go for the throat. Yamamoto would not let the opportunity to f
urther hurt the American navy pass by. If Pearl Harbor could be denied to America as a base for her reinforcement fleet, the final attack could easily be as great a victory as the destruction of the battleships in the first two.

  If he gave in to Genda and Fuchida, it would mean turning the fleet southward, as it was already heading northwest on a course that would take it back to Japan. Such a turn might place the Kido Butai in the path of the two American carriers. However, there was nothing to indicate that the Americans had any idea he was to the north of the islands. Planning back in Tokyo had presumed that the Americans would think the attack had come from the west or south; thus permitting an easy withdrawal. So far, nothing had happened to indicate otherwise.

  Nagumo knew that he had recourse by radio to Yamamoto himself. The senior admiral commanding the Combined Fleet had already received notice of the victory. It would be a small matter to ask for advice.

  No, Nagumo thought angrily. He would not ask for advice. Yamamoto had entrusted him with command and he would command. He, and not Yamamoto, was the man in charge of the battle, and he, not Yamamoto, would make the right decision.

  Then Nagumo smiled. Genda was right. What if the carriers did find him? He outnumbered them three to one, and, even if attacked while Fuchida’s planes were away, he still had the firepower to destroy any American attackers and achieve their third goal, the destruction of the carriers.

  “Go,” he ordered simply.

  CHAPTER 1

  The day threatened to be pleasantly uneventful for U.S. Army Captain Jake Novacek as he dressed and got ready for another Sunday in paradise. After a hard week’s work, he thought he might go to Waikiki, lie in the sun, and stare at the attractive young women in their bathing suits.

  His only concern was that he still ached from Saturday’s Army-Navy touch football game with other officers. They were ex-athletes like himself, but unfortunately, they were several years younger than Jake’s thirty-six and had nearly run him into the ground. Jake was larger than most at just under six feet and almost two hundred pounds, which somewhat compensated for the age disparity when he managed to catch up with one of the young navy pups. It may have been touch football, but some of the touches were damned hard.