by Jeff Shaara
Nomura nodded. “Well expressed, sir. Then I shall be honest with you now. With the change in my country’s government, I feel I can no longer serve the purpose for which I was sent here. I have not enjoyed skating around the most serious issues facing us. But I must do as I am instructed.” He paused. “I am deeply upset that anyone would think I am fleeing the field of battle. I am a man of honor, but there is much in this position that is not honorable at all. Thus, I have offered to resign my post.”
Hull was surprised. “Has your foreign minister accepted your resignation?”
Nomura shook his head. “No. They insist I am doing an excellent job.”
There was sarcasm in Nomura’s words, and Hull said, “Are you?”
Nomura smiled. “I suppose, if you consider that I have told you almost nothing of what my government is seeking to do, then by all means, I am outstanding. My principal duty has been to communicate to the foreign minister just what the American attitude is toward Japanese activities. In that, I have also excelled.”
“I would not be eager to welcome a new Japanese ambassador. I believe you and I have some important understandings. I believe you do not want a war.”
“On the second point, you are correct—no sane man wishes for war. On the first…again I will be honest with you. In about three weeks, I will have…I’m not sure of the word in English. A ‘partner’? My government is sending another who will be here to assist me.”
Hull knew what Nomura was saying. His government was sending someone to keep an eye on him.
“Do they feel your workload is too great?”
Nomura smiled again, understood Hull’s joke. “Possibly. His name is Saburo Kurusu. His title is special envoy.”
“Then he is not a spy?”
Nomura laughed now. “If he is, they have not told me so.”
Hull laughed along, thought, Thank God we have Magic. We will find out soon enough.
TWENTY-TWO
Biggs
PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII—SATURDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1941
The ball game ended near dusk. The victory for the Arizona was one that not even the losing team could complain about. They had played an army team from Schofield Barracks, in a game marked by the usual catcalls and insults fueled by the ever-present rivalry between army and navy. No one took the insults seriously, both sides knowing that if either pitcher was tempted to use his fastball as a weapon, the game could end very badly. But on this day, even the army players offered a show of respect toward the Arizona’s pitcher. Against a well-practiced team of Schofield’s best athletes, Woody Finley had pitched a no-hitter.
After the final out, the sailors had surrounded Finley with joyous cheers and pats on the back, but the celebration was cut short with a sharp order from Lieutenant Janz. No one had to rub the army’s face in it. They all knew what Finley had done.
Biggs’s day had been, for him, unimpressive, a single hit that added nothing to the team’s 2–0 victory. Throughout much of the game, he couldn’t avoid the distraction shared by most of the others, a cause for celebration that had nothing to do with baseball. They all knew the schedule, that in two days the Arizona would put to sea again for another tedious and redundant training exercise. But morale had begun to climb as word spread through the ship that in a couple of weeks, the ship would put to sea for a very different journey, this one eastward, across the Pacific to the naval base at Bremerton, Washington. When the rumors were confirmed by the senior command, morale had leapt skyward. Even the men who enjoyed the revelry they could find in Honolulu had applauded the opportunity for a change of scene. Bremerton was not Hawaii, of course, but to many, Hawaii had become something of an isolated prison, a forlorn and empty part of the world.
Like many, Biggs knew almost nothing about Bremerton beyond geography, that it was on the mainland, directly across Puget Sound from the city of Seattle. For a sizable number of the crew, Seattle offered the opportunity for families to visit. Sailors were already writing home, telling anyone close enough to the West Coast to drive or take the train ride west. None of the crew was quite sure just how long this respite would last, but a ship this size would never make such a journey unless the navy had a very good reason. And any of those reasons would certainly consume a week or two, and possibly much more.
* * *
—
The team followed Lieutenant Janz aboard the bus, all of them bathed in the aroma of sweat and dirt. The ride from Schofield took less than a half hour, the bus stopping with a groan alongside a concrete pier. There, the familiar launch waited for the short trip across the water to Ford Island.
Biggs glanced around, saw smiles everywhere. A few men were still offering back slaps to their pitcher, and Biggs couldn’t hold back, said, “Hey, Woody. You ever done that before?”
Finley shrugged, said, “Once or twice. High school. Never did it in the minor leagues. I’d always give up a few hits, or worse. Once I really got shelled. A Cincinnati Reds club, the Syracuse Chiefs, hit seven home runs off me, and got about a dozen hits. After they scored the first five runs, I figured they better pull me out of there, and fast. But my damn manager left me in just ’cause he was pissed at me—I kinda threw a kiss toward his daughter. I think I gave up fourteen runs. That game might be the reason why I never got a real shot in the majors.”
The catcher, Harrington, said, “I tell you, Woody, you pitch a few more like today, you’ll get there. I heard there was a scout from the Cardinals out here poking around. He might have been at the game. There were a couple dozen people watching us.”
Finley seemed unimpressed. “I’ll believe that when he shakes my hand. That’s the biggest rumor you hear in any minor league park: The scouts are everywhere. You might have a crowd of fourteen gray-haired old ladies, and somebody’s gonna swear they’re from the Yankees. I’ve got as much chance of signing with them as I had with that manager’s cutie of a daughter. I’d rather just do what we’re doing now, showing everybody else in Hawaii how good the Arizona is.”
The coxswain took his position at the helm, the engine revving up, his crewman tossing the lines back to the concrete pier. The engines coughed out black smoke, the boat lurching into open water. They were directly across the harbor from Ford Island, where the battleships were berthed, but Biggs scanned the sites nearby, the clusters of smaller ships and maintenance craft. Around him, even the long-timers stared out, taking in the sheer beauty of the power around them. Biggs saw a line of seaplanes in the distance, the new PBYs, parked alongside what had to be a tender. He searched for the ship’s name, hoped it was the Curtiss, saw crewmen working on the deck. I’d really like to see Ray again, he thought. Hell, you’d think it would be simple—there’s nothing but water between us.
Finley put a hand on Biggs’s shoulder, said, “Pretty damn impressive, huh? Hard to believe any stupid damn Japanese would pick a fight with us.”
Beside Finley, a man said, “Woody, there ain’t a damn thing to all that nonsense. The brass is putting out those rumors so we’ll pay better attention to all that malarkey we’re doing on those open-water drills. The brass tells us we got a threat, that we’re in danger, so we work harder. Nice try. If we’re in so much danger, why the hell are we sailing out of here and going back to the States?”
There was no argument to that from any of them. Even Janz let the comments pass. But Biggs was beginning to nurse a healthy curiosity.
“Any of you been to Bremerton before? I heard the ship’s been there a few times. Not sure when.”
Behind him, the catcher, Harrington, said, “Back in December, we went into dry dock there. I figure that’s what we’re doing now. We were there most of two weeks. I’ll take that. My family’s in Montana; ain’t seen my mom since before that. Used to have a girl there too, but I think she ran out of hope, so she hitched up with some other joker. The guy’s first name is Beezy. Who the hell marries
a guy named Beezy?”
Harrington laughed, others joining in. There were more comments about Bremerton, all of them positive, adding to the enthusiasm Biggs already felt.
He looked at Janz. “What do you say, Lieutenant? We gonna have a few weeks there?”
Janz shook his head. “They don’t tell me a thing. What I’m looking forward to, even if we only have a single night off the ship, is a big plate of raw oysters. None better than the ones that come out of Puget Sound.”
The reaction was mixed, drawing a smile from Janz.
“You boys have no idea what you’re missing. You don’t want to eat those little jewels, that’s fine. Just means there’s more for me. That’s all I’ll say.”
Harrington said, “I heard the more of those slimy things you eat, the more the gals will appreciate it. Supposed to kind of improve things, if you know what I mean. Sir, maybe I better have me a couple platefuls.”
Biggs had never eaten an oyster, wasn’t really sure what the fuss was. “I’d like to try some, sir. There a place that sells ’em?”
Janz still smiled. “There are about a hundred places, Mr. Biggs. Tell you what. I’ll buy the first half dozen. But you gotta eat ’em. After that you’re on your own.”
The talk drifted away with the scenery, the launch closing toward Ford Island, eight of the great battleships berthed in a row. Some were tied up side by side, with not enough space for them to line up in single file. Most had crewmen suspended over the sides, wooden platforms supporting the men with buckets and paint rollers.
As the launch drew closer to the Arizona, Biggs could see the platforms there as well, a dozen men laboring with the gray paint. He saw one man looking down, saw a quick wave in his direction, realized it was Wakeman. He waved back, the launch sliding past the bow of the ship, maneuvering carefully to the pier, the coxswain showing his experience. The lines went ashore, and the boat was secured, the men climbing up and out. As they walked toward the ladder, Biggs stared up and along the great ship. It was habit now, absorbing the sheer strength, the extraordinary beauty, and he felt the pride in what he saw, and where he lived. The ship was his home.
He had written much of that in a letter to his mother, but no matter the details and his feelings, he knew she’d never understand. His father would certainly have something to say, and Biggs tried not to think of that at all. So I’m a sailor, and maybe I’ll be a corpsman. And I get to play ball. And I’m kinda good at it. Damn. This is just about perfect.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Finley was beside him. “Ain’t got too many friends that are swabbies. But you’re okay. Hell of a hitter, that’s for damn sure. You oughta keep an eye out for scouts too. They ain’t only looking for pitchers. You might get a shot at it. Never know.” Finley eyed the rail of the ship as they moved past. “We sail out of here, we might not have a ball game for a long time. I hate that, but it’s just the way it happens. Not much else I wanna do. Just be a marine, I guess.”
“Nothing wrong with that, Woody. Being a marine’s gotta be a good career.”
“Yep. You’re right. What about you?”
“Navy’s pretty good place for me to be. Never really thought about playing baseball, not for a real team. I can’t even hope for something like that. All of this beats what I got back home, that’s for sure.”
Finley looked ahead, called out, “Hey, Lieutenant. You think we earned some liberty? We had a pretty good day.”
Janz stopped, scanned the team’s faces. “Since we’re under way in two days, I guess you all earned at least one night ashore. I’ll see what I can do. Great job today, Private Finley. All of you.”
Janz led them up the ladder, each man going through the usual routine with the officer of the deck. Biggs recognized the man, Janz’s friend, the lieutenant who had intercepted the pounding he would have received from Kincaid. The officer looked at Biggs with recognition, and when the formality passed, he said to Janz, “You win today?”
Janz looked at Finley, pointed. “Thanks to one of our stars. Next time it will be the other one.”
Janz motioned toward Biggs, the team passing by him, more slaps on the back.
Finley moved away, said, “See you tonight, Tommy. We make it into town, you can buy me a beer.”
* * *
—
“You’re going on liberty with a marine?”
Biggs finished polishing his shoes, said, “Lieutenant Janz said he’d try to set it up for the whole team.”
Wakeman cinched up his pants. “Yeah, well, I got liberty for sure. Piece of paper to prove it. Not sure I wanna risk tangling with a flock of jarheads.”
Biggs wasn’t sure what he could say to ease Wakeman’s prejudice against the marines. It was unusual for the two groups to spend much time together, the sailors and marines serving very different functions onboard the ship.
“Look, Ed, Finley’s a good guy. Doesn’t much matter to me if he’s a marine. He’s my teammate.”
Behind Wakeman, Mahone said, “I’ll bet you hired the guy to be your bodyguard, right? You take him to Hotel Street so’s he’ll take on those mooses they got in the Boom Boom Room, while you make happy time with Maggie Sue. She’s a real honey, I’m telling you.”
The laughter filled the compartment and Biggs let them have their fun. Biggs leaned closer to Wakeman, lowered his voice, said, “Hey, Ed. You ever been to Bremerton?”
“Of course. We were there around Christmastime. Rained a bunch. But it’s a pretty place. Different kind of pretty from here. My family came over, took the train from Sioux Falls. I don’t think my mom stopped bawling the whole time. They’re scared, both of ’em.”
Biggs sat, pulled on his shoes, wrestled with the laces. “Scared of what?”
Wakeman sat as well. “Every damn thing in the world. I’d go fishing when I was a kid and my old man would give me a damn speech about every dangerous thing that could happen. I joined the navy, my mom figured I’d get killed the first week. Ships sink, they said. Ships blow up. Gunpowder and fuel oil. Boom. Happens every day, they said. I was surprised as hell they even took the train. My mom gave me a speech about that too. They can run off the tracks, she said. Trains slam into each other. Happens all the time. I tried to tell them, hey, you just made a long train trip, and everything turned out fine. Didn’t change a thing. They just started worrying about the next trip.”
Biggs thought of his father, the speech about ships sinking. “I guess we’ve all got some of that. My folks might never leave my hometown. My pop always said there’s nowhere else to go. I guess that’s just being afraid of doing something different.”
Wakeman rested one arm on his knee. “ ‘It happens all the time.’ Can’t tell you how many times I had to listen to that. I always wondered, How do you know what happens all the time? Neither one ever read the damn newspaper.” He shook his head. “Both of ’em probably afraid of getting a paper cut.”
Biggs laughed, thought of his mother, said, “I’d give anything to have her come out west, Seattle or anywhere else. It’s like her soul’s buried in that little town. I hate that. All I know is she’s happy for me, she wants good for me. If it’s the navy, she’ll accept that. My pop’s never accepted anything positive about me my whole life.”
Wakeman tied his shoes, then stopped, looked at Biggs. “I bet your mom’s damn proud of you. That matters most. Don’t never forget that.” He thumped his chest. “My mom’s heart is right here, no matter what kind of craziness I gotta listen to. Yours too.”
The voices grew suddenly quiet, all eyes toward the hatch. Biggs turned, expected to see Kincaid, was surprised to see Finley, in his working uniform.
Biggs said, “Hey, Woody. What’s up? Did you get liberty?”
Finley looked down through the compartment, a hint of uneasiness. “Uh, no. I’ve got brig guard duty tonight. First Sergeant Duveene felt ba
d about it, but said it couldn’t be helped. Couple of guys picked a fight, and when Ensign Marsh stepped in, they walloped him pretty good. Lieutenant Smith tried to put everybody under arrest and one of the morons took a swing at him.”
Wakeman said, “That’s a court-martial.”
“At least. They smuggled some hooch onboard in a paint can, best as we can figure. The navy doesn’t appreciate that. And, taking a drunken swing at two officers, well, likely they’ll be booted out of here pretty quick, and maybe get some brig time stateside.”
Wakeman said, “Were they marines?”
Muted laughter spread through the compartment. Biggs cringed, but saw Finley smile.
“Not this time, swabby.”
Biggs let out a breath of relief that Finley had a decent sense of humor. But he could tell that Finley was disappointed.
“Well, hell, Woody, I was gonna buy you a beer.” Biggs pointed a thumb toward Wakeman. “Now if I get a pass, I gotta depend on him. It’s gonna be a crappy night.”
“Sorry, Tommy. Maybe some other time. We get to Bremerton, you can show me how the lieutenant eats oysters.” He moved toward the hatch, looked back at Biggs. “See you later, slugger.”
Biggs looked at Wakeman. “Well, hell. Damn shame. Kinda hoped to find out a little more about being a marine, what that’s like.”
He expected teasing for that, but Wakeman turned to Mahone, said, “That guy’s not so bad, for a marine anyway. I heard he can put a baseball through a tin can without touching the sides.”
Mahone laughed, said, “First time a jarhead’s ever come in here unless there was a fight to be had.”
Biggs said, “Woody won’t admit it, not to me anyway. But I know that he really wants to play baseball. He’s only twenty-two, and if he works on his pitches, he could make it.”
