1942 Page 5

  However, she’d had some time to think over the fact of Tim’s death and accepted both it and the fact that she had nothing to regret. She didn’t even resent the fact that the coffin had been sealed. Perhaps it was a blessing. She would be able to remember him as he was in life and not in death. Alexa fully understood that he had died violently and had been in the oil-soaked water for more than a day. The remains in the box would in no way resemble the man she’d made love to the night before he left for duty that morning.

  They had loved each other, but it was over. She would revere and honor his memory, but she would also move on with her life. She could even use the word death, which surprised some people. It amused her how others used terms like gone away, or departed, as if the dead person was coming back. Tim was dead. Nothing would change that.

  Alexa even found a moment to wonder if she would marry again. To her surprise, she didn’t find the thought repugnant, not even at this early stage of her widowhood and in the depth of sorrow. Their lives had been happy, so why wouldn’t a future life be as well? She was twenty-eight and, despite her grief, knew that she would someday recover.

  When the service ended, she would thank the chaplain for his nice prayers, although she was far from certain that he had any idea who he was burying. She didn’t blame him. Thousands had been killed by the Japs with additional thousands wounded. Even as they mourned, other interments were taking place around them. The area in Punchbowl crater was rapidly becoming a national cemetery for the dead of the young war. Alexa stared at the chaplain, who faltered over a prayer. The poor man looked exhausted, but at least he was alive.

  Finally it was over. A couple of her neighbors and a handful of the students she taught at the church-run school drifted away. With the exception of Melissa’s husband and the rapidly departing chaplain, only one man in uniform had been present, and she walked over to him. “Thank you for coming, Captain.”

  Jake Novacek nodded. He was determined not to embarrass himself by saying something banal or stupid, as he had managed to do at other funerals. He was surprised at the lack of attendance by naval personnel but said nothing.

  “Tim spoke kindly of you on a number of occasions. He said you didn’t hit him too hard.”

  Jake smiled slightly. “We generally played on opposite sides, but he was always a good guy. I’ll miss him.” And a helluva lot of others, he didn’t add.

  Alexa took the compliment. She was a little surprised by the burly Novacek. At first glance, it would be easy to mistake him for a Neanderthal who had stolen an officer’s uniform. But a few words with him had convinced her the impression was wrong. There was depth to the man, as well as compassion.

  “I’m not surprised that no one else came,” she said. “So many of his friends are dead or wounded themselves, particularly those from the Oklahoma, and everyone is so busy with the living that it’s easy to forget the dead. Then there’s the fact, of course, that I’m not very popular with the other officers and their wives.”

  “Oh?” What the hell had she done to be disliked, he wondered, and did he really want to know?

  “My political views are anathema to them. I’m a pacifist, and I hate war in all its forms. Does that bother you? If it wasn’t for the fact that my uncle’s a congressman, I think Tim and I would have been totally ignored.”

  A pacifist? Was that all? But it would have been enough to result in ostrarization in the close-knit family of military officers. However, he understood the deference she would have received with a political relative. “What bothers me, Mrs. Sanderson, is that I cannot recall the last time I used the word anathema in an intelligent conversation.”

  The comment brought a wide and unexpected grin from her, and he continued. “I have no argument with anyone’s political or moral views. Somehow I’ve always felt that part of my job was to protect them. Maybe I’m a little naive, but I have no problem with pacifists. After this war is over,” he added drily, “I may become one myself.”

  “Well then, Captain, I’m even more glad you came.” Melissa Wilson and her recently arrived husband stepped behind them as they walked to their cars. “I presume you will have to return to duty.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Uh, I told my bosses that’s where I was now.”

  Alexa laughed out loud. It felt good. “Well, get back to them and don’t get in trouble for playing hooky. You were Tim’s friend, and now you’re my friend. Please don’t hesitate to stop by when you’re in the area.”

  Alexa meant the invitation. Even though she barely knew Jake Novacek, she found herself trusting and liking him. She needed strong friends at this time in her life, and Captain Jake Novacek looked like he would more than fill the bill.

  “I will do that, Mrs. Sanderson,” Jake said, wondering if she meant it or was just being polite.

  “My name is Alexa, Captain, and my friends call me Lexy for some ungodly reason.”

  “Mine is Jake,” he said, grinning. She did mean it. Lexy? What a lousy nickname for an elegant lady. He decided that he would never call her Lexy. They shook hands as if meeting for the first time, which, in a way, they were. Her grip was strong and firm, which was interesting; most women had no idea how to shake hands. “And I am honored to be your friend, Alexa.”

  Behind them, neither saw Melissa nudge her husband in the ribs.

  Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto again entered the residence of Prime Minister Tojo. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Tojo was not alone. Present with him was Lieutenant General Sakai Takashi, who commanded the 23d Area Army, based near Canton, China. Yamamoto took Takashi’s presence as a good omen, although the army general looked grim and unpleasant.

  As was proper, Tojo took the lead. “As you may have surmised by General Takashi’s presence, we have decided to give conditional approval to the invasion of Hawaii. The fact that Hitler has declared war on the United States means there will be no major reinforcements available for their Pacific Fleet for some time.”

  Yamamoto bowed from a seated position. “I am honored. However, you said ‘conditional approval.’ May I ask what the conditions are?”

  Takashi answered. “I’ll be blunt, Admiral. I agree that it is a marvelous opportunity to further injure the United States and thus further ensure Japan’s victory. But it will necessitate changes to plans and events that are already taking place. I am also concerned by the size of the American army contingent on Oahu. Therefore, I insist that the navy provide total superiority of sea and air.”

  Takashi’s comments verged on rude, but Yamamoto ignored it. Too much was at stake to let interservice pride get in the way. “When the army steps ashore,” he replied firmly, “there will be no opposition from American planes or ships. Additionally, I will provide a full brigade of marines to lead the amphibious part of the assault.”

  Takashi blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that.

  Yamamoto continued. “I will provide a diversion that will confuse the Americans and cause them to split their forces. Right now, they expect that any landing will occur on the northern shore of Oahu, farthest from Honolulu. In that regard they are correct; however, we will make them think otherwise.”

  Takashi almost smiled but caught himself. “Good. For my part, the army will provide the 38th Infantry Division. It is now involved in mopping-up operations in Hong Kong and is not scheduled for further action for a couple of months. It will be resupplied and will be the focus of the invasion.”

  Yamamoto was delighted. The 38th was a crack, class A division, instead of the second-tier force he’d planned on, and it consisted of nearly thirty thousand men. Takashi, however, was not quite telling the truth. The British were putting up a stout defense, and it was estimated that they would fight on for another week or so.

  “Additionally,” Tojo said, “the 38th will be reinforced by one infantry regiment each from the 52nd, 53rd, and 54th divisions, which are stationed in Japan. They are class C divisions but will give a good account of themselves under the circumst
ances.”

  Yamamoto nodded. The additional regiments, regardless of quality, would bring the 38th up to a total of nearly forty thousand men, and, when the marine brigade was added, the Japanese ground forces would truly be formidable.

  “However,” Tojo said, “you may have these forces for only sixty days after landing on Oahu and the landing must take place within a month. If the island isn’t conquered by that time, we will have to evaluate the situation. We must not unduly delay our activities around Borneo and elsewhere. Those other lands contain the oil the navy said it so desperately needed.”

  Yamamoto smiled at the transparent gibe. “It will not take sixty days. By the time of the landing, the Americans will be confused and disoriented.”

  Tojo nodded appreciatively. “You mentioned a diversion, what is it?”

  “It will occur in two phases,” Yamamoto answered. “In the first phase, which is commencing as we speak, I have ordered our submarines back into Hawaiian waters. They will strike at any shipping that attempts to leave or enter the islands.

  “As to the second phase, the First Air Fleet is refueling and resupplying and will return to Hawaii with additional planes and a regiment of marines. They will then land on the island of Molokai, perhaps Lanai afterward, and establish air bases there that will be operational within a few days. That will place the Japanese air forces permanently within a hundred miles of most of the targets on Oahu, particularly those around Pearl Harbor. I am confident the Americans will find it extremely difficult to justify moving their forces to the north of Oahu when we are so close to them in the south.”

  Takashi did smile this time. Yamamoto thought it looked like a monkey grinning. Tojo recognized that a deal had been struck and ordered sake brought out.

  “Excellent,” he said. “But restrict your efforts to a plan and nothing more at this time. Do not land on Molokai or elsewhere until the army is completely ready to support you. Should there be a delay in taking Hong Kong, or should other factors arise, we might yet have to reconsider Hawaiian operations.”

  “I fully understand,” Yamamoto answered.

  Tojo raised his cup, and the others followed suit. “Let us drink to the success of the operation and the confusion of our enemies.”

  CHAPTER 4

  In Jake Novacek’s opinion, the office on the second floor of a nondescript Honolulu building was better suited for a small-time lawyer than for one of the most powerful men in Hawaii’s Japanese community. As the one receptionist-secretary recognized and greeted him, Jake knew that security personnel were just across the hall and were watching him carefully. He was in civilian clothes in an attempt to avoid undue notice. Many military personnel dealt with Toyoza Kaga, but few in an official capacity. If anyone was watching, he would be noted as just another soldier who owed Kaga money, wanted to borrow some, or maybe needed a compliant doctor for a girlfriend’s abortion.

  After a moment, Kaga welcomed him warmly and by shaking hands, an unusual gesture for a Japanese. Most preferred to avoid physical contact with others. Kaga was average height for a Japanese, five four, thin, bald, and in his early sixties. He was one of the richest men in Honolulu, although he lived simply, without ostentation or extravagance.

  “Captain,” Kaga said cheerfully, “have a seat. Coffee?”

  “No, thank you. How is your empire prospering?”

  “Mine or Imperial Japan’s?”

  Jake laughed. “Yours.”

  It was little known, but Toyoza Kaga had his hand in scores of businesses throughout the islands. Many he owned outright, and others he simply influenced and prospered from by dealing with them. Not all Kaga’s businesses were totally legal. There were gambling operations, minor bootlegging, and, of course, prostitution. By keeping tight control on the operations, he avoided the wrath of either the civilian or the military police, who all knew that soldiers and sailors had to have their ashes hauled every now and then. Kaga’s places were clean, nonviolent, and discreet, and therefore easy to ignore.

  “This is the first time we’ve spoken since the attack,” Kaga said. “I hope it will not be the last.”

  “Nor I,” said Jake. “I used the information you gave me about the unlikelihood of sabotage and gave it to my boss, who gave it to General Short. Unfortunately, Short or his staff chose to ignore it.”

  “A shame,” Kaga said and meant it. He was firmly convinced that a Japanese victory in the war would be a disaster for both himself and the Japanese living in Hawaii. “At least there have been only a few incidents against my people by American military personnel.”

  “Do you object to the internment of the radicals?”

  Kaga laughed. The Japanese population of Hawaii was 160,000 people, more than a third of the total population of the islands, and 120,000 of them lived on Oahu. Of these, about 1,500 of the most radical supporters of Japan had been rounded up and interned. These were all people who had visited Japan, sent sons to fight in her army, and made bellicose speeches on behalf of Japan’s right to conquer Asia. There were many others who had cheered on Japan’s earlier conquests, but both the FBI and the military government considered them nuisances and not dangerous. Toyoza Kaga’s eldest son was an officer in the Japanese army, but that was a well-kept secret and a fact that deeply disturbed Kaga.

  Some of the fifteen hundred radical Japanese might have been enlisted as saboteurs for Japan, but none had known of the timing of the attack. Japan had not trusted them with the information, which both men thought was an interesting fact in itself. With weapons reasonably scarce on the islands, they were also unarmed. Now, with emotions running high and tens of thousands of armed U.S. military personnel looking out in all directions for enemies, anyone contemplating sabotage would have to be a complete fool or insane, especially if they had a yellow skin. There would be no attacks from the Japanese community on Oahu.

  “No, Captain, I do not object at all. However, I would suggest that you move the internees from Sand Island and elsewhere and ship them off to the mainland. That way they cannot be used to establish a sympathetic puppet government when Japan attacks and conquers these islands. Even with them gone, there will be many who will collaborate with the Japanese, but they will lack the venom and enthusiasm of those your army has imprisoned.”

  Jake’s eyebrows arched at the declaration. “You think that’s definite? The Japanese will attack?”

  “Absolutely. And it will come sooner rather than later.”

  “And your people?”

  “The first-generation issei and the second-generation nisei differ fundamentally,” Kaga said. “Most of the issei have their homes here but are sympathetic toward Japan, and they are confused now that their two homelands are at war. They revere Japan and love her memory, but, after all, they left for good reasons. The nisei, however, by and large have no great love for a distant land most have never seen or care to see. Nisei, remember, are American citizens as well as holding Japanese citizenship according to Japanese law.”

  It was a bitter point. The older generation, like Kaga, had been denied citizenship because of the race quota laws, and many resented it. Ironically, the children of the issei had automatically become American citizens by virtue of being born on American territory. To many people, Jake included, it made no sense whatsoever. However, the nisei had been declared Japanese citizens by the Japanese government and, technically at least, were subject to Japan’s military draft. A small but unknown number had traveled to Japan to make themselves available for conscription, but the overwhelming majority wanted no part of the Japanese armed forces. On the contrary, almost fifteen hundred nisei had volunteered for the Hawaiian Territory’s two national guard regiments.

  “The vast majority of my people,” Kaga continued, “will do nothing but try to survive the conflict as best they can. I doubt there will be any acts of sabotage, even random ones. The fear of retribution is too great.”

  “And what will happen if the Japanese do invade?” Jake asked. “Where will loyal
ties lie then?”

  Kaga shrugged. “Like I said, get rid of the radicals and the rest will play a waiting game. When-not if-the Japanese invade, there will be confusion regarding their long-term aims. If Hawaii is to be a bargaining chip for a future treaty in which we will be returned to American control, then my people will be cooperative but quiescent. If the occupation is going to be long term, or permanent, then people will adjust to the new realities in order to survive.”

  Jake agreed. It fit what he had learned about the Japanese-American community. Beleaguered, picked on, insulted, and discriminated against, most of them still thought there were more advantages in being American than in being part of the militaristic Japanese empire. He would report this to General Short and the rest of the Hawaiian command. This time perhaps they’d listen to him.

  The Japanese submarine I-74 lay on the swells of the Pacific, rolling gently and using only enough power to maintain seaway. She was shielded by the night and the fact of her low silhouette. A panther, she lay in wait for her prey.

  The I-74 was only a couple of years old. She’d been constructed at the shipyards in Kobe and was armed with eight torpedo tubes and a 4.7-inch deck gun, and could cruise for sixteen thousand miles.

  Like most submariners, her captain preferred to attack while on the surface. Doing so meant more torpedo accuracy, as well as the ability to travel at more than twice her speed when submerged. The I-74 could move at twenty knots on the surface but only nine submerged. Underwater movement was saved for special situations, such as hiding from an enemy warship, stalking a dangerous or elusive target, or traversing dangerous waters. Submerged, a sub could last only a dozen or so hours before the batteries that drove her needed charging, or before the air became so foul that sailors started to pass out and die.