by Jeff Shaara
Yamamoto understood the power he had over his war games. Unlike the exercises as staged by so many other nations, these games took place not on the open ocean, but at the Naval War College, in Tokyo. Instead of ships at sea plotting their movements and firing patterns, these games took place on a large table, with questions and answers on paper and the naval officers standing close by, offering suggestions. The games involved a large number of senior officers, who plotted out their proposed assaults against a great variety of targets from the Philippines to Burma, the Netherlands East Indies to Malaya, as well as a number of islands throughout the South Pacific, including those held by the Americans. But Yamamoto’s plans for Hawaii were staged separately, in a room where access was restricted to those few men already aware of his plan.
The first set of games had been judged by the officers present to be something of a failure. Unhappy with that outcome, Yamamoto scheduled a second game, focusing mostly on his Hawaii plan, and once again held in relative secrecy. The conclusions this time were considerably more positive, the judge concluding that the attack stood a 50 percent probability of success. Though some who took part in the exercise were nervously unhappy with those results, Yamamoto considered them acceptable. It was not a difficult conclusion for him to reach, since, in this exercise, Yamamoto had been the judge.
ONBOARD BATTLESHIP MUTSO, TOKYO BAY—SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1941
His temporary command post was now on the Mutso, a battleship very much like his beloved Nagato but closer to the offices and meeting rooms where he needed to be. It was no secret that with the American oil embargo, it was not wise for the larger ships of the fleet to make journeys just for the convenience of their commanders, not even the commander in chief.
He had finished his lunch, enjoying the meal by himself. He sat back and allowed the orderlies to do their job, rapidly cleaning the table, removing any crumb he had left behind. The solitary meal was a luxury—no urgent meetings, no discussions that produced indigestion. As he watched the orderlies, he thought of tomorrow, smiling in anticipation of Chiyoko’s being there to share a meal with him. With his flagship anchored this close to Tokyo, it had become customary for her to visit him. No one among the crew or the officers dared to offer a disapproving glance. He knew as well that when she retired with him to his quarters, she would do as she always did, clean and straighten up, as though the orderlies were never performing to her standards. There would be no protest from him, that lesson learned long ago. If she insisted on performing the task, she would perform the task. He had learned as well that watching her scurry around his quarters like a manic squirrel was a pleasure all its own.
As the orderlies completed their task, he focused on his favorite, Omi, said, “Go out, down the passageway, locate Admiral Ugaki. He should be in his office.”
Rear Admiral Matome Ugaki was his new chief of staff, had accepted that position a month before. He was an extremely tall man, another of those around Yamamoto whose height only emphasized to Yamamoto how diminutive he was.
Ugaki appeared at the door, his hat clamped under his arm. “May I be of service, sir?”
“Do we have any outstanding appointments yet today? I know our ship’s captain had suggested some sort of gathering in my honor. I would appreciate it if you could dissuade him. I wish no sign of disrespect. We are, after all, his guests.”
“Sir, if I may suggest, you are no one’s guest. This is your ship, as it is your fleet.”
Yamamoto thought, No, actually the fleet belongs to the emperor. But he kept the words inside, said, “Your graciousness is appreciated, Admiral. As is your obedience. So, I will be more direct. Please inform the captain that I will be unable to attend a gathering. Offer him my respects. Make that ‘sincere’ respects. You may do that now.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Oh, and please have someone check with the mail room. I am expecting a small parcel.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Ugaki was out quickly, and Yamamoto sat back in the chair, thought, What will all these years of obedience do to me when I retire? Everyone who speaks to me grovels. I don’t insist on that, even if they feel that I do. But soon, I will be an old man with no one to obey me. Instead, there will be tolerance, or perhaps even rudeness. When was the last time anyone was ever rude in my presence? Well, perhaps my wife. No, do not think on that. Never think on that.
There was a light rap on the wardroom door, and he said, “You may enter. I will not bite you.”
The door opened slowly, a young officer peering in. “Sir? I did not understand what you said.”
“Good. What do you want?”
“Sir, Admiral Ugaki asked me to bring you your mail. It just arrived, sir. Just the one package.”
Yamamoto saw the roll of brown wrapping. “Excellent. Drop it right here on the table, Ensign. You are dismissed.”
The young man obeyed and was quickly out the door. Yamamoto felt the heft of the rolled paper, smiled, thought, Yes, at least I have something to do this afternoon. He stood, hurried out toward his temporary quarters, but couldn’t wait, tore one end off the packet. He stopped in the passageway, unrolled the contents, thought, I don’t know why this so brightens my day, my entire month. It was another piece of his American experience, pages of stories and advertisements, so many lessons on just who his adversary was going to be. It was the latest issue of Life magazine.
He heard heavy footsteps behind him, a guard climbing up, now in the passageway. The man seemed relieved to find him, said, “Sir, you have a visitor. I was not certain where to escort him.”
Yamamoto was annoyed, glanced at the cover of the magazine, rolled it up under his arm. “Who is it?”
“Sir, it is Admiral Tomioka. He just arrived on a launch. The officer of the deck said he was not expected.”
“No, he was not. But admirals think they belong anyplace that suits them. Have him escorted to my wardroom.”
The man offered a sharp salute, then quickly disappeared through a hatchway below. Yamamoto scowled, reached the entrance to his quarters, tossed the magazine inside. He returned to his wardroom, the long table cleaned to a shine, sat down heavily in his chair at the center of the table, drummed his fingers on the metal. The knock came now, and he said, “Come in, by all means.”
The door opened slowly, and he saw the guard, and behind him, his surprise visitor.
Sadatoshi Tomioka was commander of the First Division, First Section of the Navy General Staff. Yamamoto was curious just why he was there. Tomioka was not his friend.
Yamamoto said to the guard, “Thank you, Petty Officer. You are dismissed. Please close the door.”
The guard backed away, the door closing.
Yamamoto pulled himself up to his feet, made the obligatory formal greeting, a bow that Tomioka returned.
Yamamoto said, “Is the wardroom acceptable? We could retire to my personal quarters.”
“It is not necessary, Admiral. I will be brief. I am here on behalf of the Navy General Staff. There is concern that you are continuing to advocate your plan to attack the American base in Hawaii, against all advice to the contrary.”
“And you do not approve?”
“No, I do not. Many others in the Naval Ministry and the General Staff believe it is a foolish gambit.”
Yamamoto began to feel a game brewing. “How foolish?”
Tomioka clearly did not expect the question. “Well, I have heard estimates that the probability of success is no more than fifty percent.”
Yamamoto rubbed a hand on his chin. Yes, he thought, news of the estimates has traveled quickly. As I’d hoped.
He returned to his chair. “Those are very satisfactory odds, better than you would receive at any casino. I am pleased to receive such support from the General Staff.”
He could see Tomioka growing flustered, exactly the reaction
he was hoping for.
“No, you do not seem to understand.”
Yamamoto thought, The game is over. He made a fist, pounded it slowly on the table, stared hard at Tomioka.
“No, it is you who does not understand. There will be a war, yes? It has been decided already, and not by me. My plan is the best one we have to keep the Americans back, out of our way, until we can secure strongholds throughout the South Pacific.”
“Admiral Yamamoto, that is your opinion. There are others who believe the Americans will sit by and avoid any involvement. They do not have the stomach for a conflict. It has been suggested that when the first blood spills, the Americans will most likely sue for peace.”
Yamamoto fought the urge to laugh. “Suggested by whom? Never mind. Have you been to America?”
Tomioka shook his head, and Yamamoto sat back, said, “I have. I truly enjoy every part of that vast country. Let me offer you some history, perhaps more than you received in school. For any of you who believe the Americans are not worthy of a fight, that they do not have the stomach for blood, perhaps you are familiar with the American Civil War? In the 1860s, they divided and fought each other in the bloodiest war in their history. They did not require any enemy to inspire them. They fought each other. Are you familiar with football?”
Tomioka sat down slowly, another shake of his head. “I’m not certain. No.”
“Football is a game between two teams, on a grass field. I attended a contest near Chicago, between Iowa University and Northwestern University. Iowa won the game, but that’s not the point. The entire contest was a magnificent show of raw violence. We have nothing to compare to it. So if there is no enemy beyond their borders, they create one at home, for their amusement. Are you familiar with the sport of prize fighting?”
Tomioka seemed utterly uncomfortable, shook his head again. “Sorry, no.”
“Two men stand inside a roped square, with light leather gloves. They pummel each other until one man is knocked unconscious. It is literally a fistfight. This sport goes back to the ancient Greeks, and yet, in our modern world, it is the Americans who have made it their own.” He paused. “So, I would suggest, Admiral Tomioka, with all respect to you and your naysayers, that you not try to convince me that the Americans will cower or run terrified from a fight. From any fight. If my plan is successful, they might back away for a few months, to regroup and repair, allowing us a window of time. That might be our only advantage, because when we start a war, with either the Americans or the British, we do not have the resources to outlast them. It must be a rapid, decisive blow that will allow us to build our strength. And that is what I will accomplish in Hawaii.”
Tomioka stood again, composed himself, said, “I am not often lectured in such a way, Admiral. It is of little concern what the Americans claim as their cultural heritage. The General Staff has determined the best strategy for executing the inevitable conflict. We have made plans that are consistent with our beliefs that the war can be won only by the great battle as we have designed it. The navy shall lead the effort to obliterate the American presence in the Pacific, which will support the bases that the army has established throughout Southeast Asia.”
Yamamoto fought the urge to scream at the man. He knew that if he stood, he might be tempted to climb over the table. After a long moment, he said, “What are you going to do for oil? How far from our shores can the fleet wage this war of annihilation?”
He saw the smugness now, Tomioka tilting his head with a half smile. Tomioka said, “That is a simple problem, Admiral. We shall draw the enemy close to our shores, where we do not have to expend valuable fuel. Once he is here, he shall be destroyed. Having our ships so close to home, it will allow us to refuel, refit, rearm, as need be. I would think a man of your experience should understand the simplicity of that.”
Yamamoto fought to keep his temper under control. He hated smugness as much as he hated incompetence. He took a moment, controlled his breathing and his anger. “Admiral Tomioka, has no one considered that by bringing the enemy’s navy into our waters, we will also bring the enemy’s aircraft, and possibly his troops? By staying close to our shores, we will invite the war to our shores. We will have handed them the gift of logistics. They will not have to sail away across a wide ocean to refuel and refit and rearm. They will be close enough to destroy our cities with their first blow.”
Tomioka seemed to absorb what Yamamoto said, then shrugged, as though it was an entirely alien concept. “Admiral Yamamoto, I do not see any difficulties with our overall strategy. Why are you proposing that we strike the Americans so very far away, with all the challenges of distance, of refueling and communication?”
“I have explained myself to every one of you. Every challenge is being dealt with. The sharpest minds in the fleet are working every day to solve those things you would so easily dismiss.” His voice was rising, so he stopped, fought for calm. “I have said this to the Chiefs of Staff, to the Ministry, many times. If we damage the American fleet in Hawaii, it will grant us time.”
Tomioka seemed to ponder the concept. “I suppose there is much to discuss.”
“Admiral Tomioka, I believe that to be the worst word ever created. ‘Discuss.’ No one ever has to offer an idea, an original thought, no one ever has to make a decision. They can just…discuss.”
Tomioka looked down for a brief moment, and Yamamoto saw a look of profound gloom.
Tomioka said, “Perhaps I shall visit with you again, Admiral.”
Yamamoto made himself stand, the appropriate show of respect. “Thank you for visiting me, Admiral Tomioka. Please offer my respects to the navy chiefs, and to the Naval Ministry. I am happy to say that there are some among the Ministry, as there are some among the Chiefs of Staff, who are more flexible in their thinking than others. Once the plans have been assembled in detail, once the challenges have been successfully addressed by my officers, then we shall present our plans in their final form. Then, you and the other skeptics may decide if a fifty percent chance of success is a respectable gamble. Or perhaps you would wait for the Germans to decide if we will be a part of their war, and then they will instruct us how we will fight it.”
* * *
—
The message came to him in a plain envelope, delivered by a courier who offered nothing about who had sent him.
Yamamoto sat on the small bed in his quarters, his chief of staff standing in the hatchway, politely patient. Yamamoto scanned the paper, said, “Not sure why anyone made such a fuss to be secretive with this. It’s just a diplomatic message. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been warning them, the Naval Ministry and anyone else who would listen, that we have made a terribly bad wager.”
Ugaki said, “I do not understand, sir.”
Yamamoto looked again at the paper. “It’s a note passed from the German military attaché in Thailand. The message is as plain as it can be. You cannot trust Japan. Germany will settle with Japan after she has won the war in Europe.”
Ugaki seemed puzzled. “Sir, does this mean that our ally is speaking ill of us behind our back?”
Yamamoto laughed. “That might be the most polite way of expressing disgusted outrage I’ve ever heard. Congratulations, Admiral. The fact is, we have made an alliance with a back-stabbing psychotic. The moment Hitler believes us to be weak or vulnerable, we will fall under the same steel wheels that are grinding through Europe. And no one in Tokyo can seem to understand that.”
ONBOARD BATTLESHIP NAGATO, TOKYO BAY—THURSDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1941
The meetings were growing more intense. Yamamoto was directly confronting the staunchest opponents of the Pearl Harbor plan. To his enormous dismay, his friend, Admiral Onishi, one of the first men to hear of the plan back in January, and the man who had recommended Commander Genda, had now turned against the idea. As it was with Admiral Fukudome, Yamamoto’s former chief of staff, a nu
mber of those men close to Yamamoto were now in opposition to him.
The arguments continued with the same simple theme. Those opposed to Yamamoto’s plan insisted that if the Americans stayed out of the war, Japan would have free rein in the South Pacific. Yamamoto’s counter was as it had always been, that you would not keep America away from helping her allies, and that in any protracted war, Japan was destined to lose. By attacking the American fleet at Hawaii, there could be a window of time opened for the Japanese to complete a great deal of her plans southward, including the capture of a major source of new oil in the Dutch East Indies.
As the meetings dragged on, a frustrated Yamamoto made a new argument: If the Japanese put their focus only on Southeast Asia and the South Pacific, they would still draw the wrath of the Americans, who had staunch allies all over that part of the world. With Japan’s military energy focused southward, how vulnerable would Japan be to air strikes from American aircraft carriers, strikes that could devastate Japan’s major cities? At least an attack on Pearl Harbor could delay that possibility.
* * *
—
Yamamoto’s senior aide was by all definitions an odd duck. Captain Kameto Kuroshima was very well known among Yamamoto’s circle of officers for his utter lack of personal hygiene. The man bathed perhaps once a week. This fact was only enhanced by his obsession for smoking, which produced a trail of ash through anyplace he spent time. To men like the rigid Ugaki, Kuroshima inspired dread, not to mention a fog of unpleasantness anytime he was in the room. Fortunately for those with such sensitivities, Kuroshima spent most of his time in his own quarters, working feverishly on those parts of Yamamoto’s Hawaii plan as he was assigned. Yamamoto trusted him implicitly, and relied on the man to sort through several aspects of the air assault, working in partnership with Commander Genda. When Kuroshima tackled a task, any task, he would lock himself in his quarters, often not emerging for several days. It was just as well that no one made any effort to disturb him. When alone, Kuroshima rarely wore clothes.
