by Jeff Shaara
Biggs sat up, a wide smile. He squeezed her hand, but a thought broke in, and he said, “Oh, I forgot to ask the doctor. When do we ship out?”
She sat down on the bed beside him, and he could feel her pressing against him, caught a hint of some kind of perfume, utterly delicious.
“We sail…Oh God, is that the right word?”
He laughed. “It’s one of them. ‘Standing out’ is a little more up to date.”
“Well, we ‘stand out’ day after tomorrow, the nineteenth. An officer told me the trip will take five or six days, but he told me the route is top secret, since there are supposed to be submarines out there. The bad ones.”
He wanted to wrap his arm around her, knew they had to show some decorum around the other patients.
“Yes, I heard about the submarines. If there’s a flock of destroyers, we’ll be fine. Five or six days? That’s pretty quick. I guess most of us don’t need to get our wounds tossed around too much. We’ll be on smaller craft, and that can be some rough water—it was when I came out here.”
She leaned away from him, staring at him, serious now. “We’re going home, Tommy. The mainland. We’ll be safe. And you know what else? If what that officer said is true, we’ll arrive on Christmas Day!”
He tried to feel the hopefulness he saw in her eyes. He wanted so much to enjoy everything they could have, everything they might explore together. For her, there would always be the job; perhaps by now she had seen the worst of it, and could focus more on the healing than the dying. Biggs could feel himself healing, knew that the doctors at the Naval Hospital had saved his arm and his life. The journey to Mare Island would be the last stage in his recovery, and if the surgery there worked as well as the doctors had told him it would, he might be fit for duty in several weeks.
He had never said anything to her about what he still needed to do. He wanted the navy, the ships. He was a sailor, and if he didn’t have a ship, in time he would find one. He could never forget Kincaid’s helpless fury, that the Arizona wasn’t merely his home, but his life. Biggs understood that now, knew that no matter his next posting, the Arizona had been his home as well, that she would always be, that he could never forget the agony of her death, the violent catastrophe that wiped away so many lives and so many friends.
He knew that what he and Loretta were sharing was romance, the best feeling two people could enjoy. But he also knew there was one very large, very black reality that neither of them could escape. As long as he was healthy, he would not quit, would not walk away, could not settle down to the kind of happy times that Russo and the sick bay staff and so many others could never know.
Before he could embrace the happiness she was offering him, he would have to go back to sea. He had to fight a war.
AFTERWORD
No account of the attack on Pearl Harbor can ignore the astonishing cost to the Americans, and the astonishing lack of cost to the Japanese.
The Americans lose 188 aircraft, with another 159 damaged. Almost all of these aircraft are struck while they are on the ground. In contrast, the Japanese lose a total of 29 aircraft, one submarine, and five midget submarines.
The total number of fatalities for the Japanese is estimated to be between 60 and 80 men. American deaths total 2,403, with an additional 1,178 wounded, most of whom are sailors. Losses also include soldiers, marines, and 68 civilians.
Eighteen naval ships are either sunk or damaged, including eight battleships. Eventually, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, California, Nevada, Tennessee, and Maryland, despite varying degrees of damage, are all repaired, and all return to action during the war.
Through an extraordinary feat of engineering, the capsized Oklahoma is righted, and placed into dry dock. Determined by the navy to be too obsolete and too damaged for further service, the ship is destined for salvage, but passing through a squall while being towed to San Francisco, she sinks, several hundred miles from the mainland. Today, the Oklahoma Memorial on Ford Island is simplicity in design, emotional tribute to the 429 men lost on a ship that capsizes, trapping most of those men inside.
The Arizona is a total loss. By far the worst disaster that day, the ship suffers 1,177 dead, with only 335 survivors. Among the dead are 23 sets of brothers. Of the 88 marines onboard, only 15 survive. It is estimated that more than 900 of those lost sailors are entombed on their ship. Thus are they still on duty. Today, the USS Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor continues to serve as a poignant reminder of why we went to war, how we went to war, and just who went to war.
Within hours after the disaster, the finger-pointing begins, in both Washington and Hawaii. Conspiracy theories explode to life, as some, including members of Congress, fail to comprehend how the United States could have been caught so unprepared, that surely there were dastardly deeds committed, or treasonous plots involving everyone from the officers in Hawaii to the president of the United States.
However, as a variety of hearings and investigations later determine, the high command in Hawaii, Admiral Husband E. Kimmel and Lieutenant General Walter C. Short, simply did not consider the Japanese to be a threat, and made no efforts to deploy reconnaissance aircraft or ships. They paid little if any attention to the deployment of the new technology of radar, ignored reports from their own intelligence officers of spurious communications (or lack of communications) regarding Japanese ship movements, and paid no heed to the suspicious activities in the Japanese Consulate in Honolulu, particularly when documents within the consulate were suddenly burned, only days before the attack.
In Washington, evidence of culpability is equally damning. Though the Magic decoding machines are invaluable for eavesdropping on diplomatic traffic between Tokyo and its embassies all over the world, they offer no direct insight whatsoever into military communications or strategic planning.
Worse, it is a foregone conclusion in Washington—among Secretary of War Henry Stimson, Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox, Army Chief of Staff George Marshall, and Chief of Naval Operations Harold Stark—that Admiral Kimmel has his own Magic machine in Hawaii, and thus is privy to the same communications they are. Later, the hearings and investigations reveal that not only was there no Magic machine in Hawaii, but that neither Kimmel nor Short had ever heard of Magic (or of Purple). In other words, those in Washington were mistaken in their belief that their commanders in Hawaii were as well informed of Japanese attitudes and belligerence as they were.
Valid reasons to lay blame on both Hawaii and Washington can be expanded into a book (and there are plenty of those). Suffice to say that the greatest single flaw that the commanders and their intelligence officers in Hawaii share is their complete failure to anticipate the possibility that the Japanese might actually attack Hawaii. There is no comprehension of the importance of the Japanese government’s warlike mindset, or that Japan is building its military toward a war it considers inevitable. All suggestions of Japanese military aggressiveness convince Hawaii and Washington only that such a war will spread into Southeast Asia. Hawaii is thought to be an impregnable fortress.
Though Washington carries its share of the blame, there are significant clues about Japanese planning that are communicated to Hawaii, and for the most part simply ignored. The “bomb plot” message intercepted by Magic ordering the Japanese spy Takeo Yoshikawa to impose a checkerboard pattern on a map of the harbor, cataloguing the ships where they are moored, is given little regard in Washington. In Hawaii, it is completely ignored, attributed to “Japanese efficiency.” The “war warning” messages, sent in late November to both Kimmel and Short, are disregarded as well.
As any military commander knows, a message that begins “This is to be considered a war warning” should be considered exactly that. Apparently, not so in Hawaii. General Short’s response is to heighten his vigilance against sabotage, presumably by the Japanese-Americans already in Hawaii. Thus are American aircraft lined up in the open, closely toge
ther, where guards can better observe them. And antiaircraft ammunition is locked away for safekeeping so it cannot be stolen or used by possible saboteurs. There is virtually no useful communication between General Short and Admiral Kimmel regarding the deployment of reconnaissance aircraft, each man assuming the other has that responsibility.
In another area of this tragedy where blame can be tossed in a multitude of directions, the military leaders in Hawaii logically and correctly assume that the Japanese have made their attack from the decks of aircraft carriers. An urgent search is launched to locate those carriers in the direction that the navy believes to be the most logical for the Japanese to have come: from the southwest.
But Commander Minoru Genda has previously dismissed that approach as being too dangerous. The Japanese fleet sits, in fact, in the opposite direction from the navy’s search. It is never located. It is also reported by various stations along Oahu’s North Shore that a large mass of planes is flying northward after the assault. Some of those observations are made with the naked eye, various troops watching the planes as they pass over, heading out to sea. No serious attention is paid to those reports.
“The Pearl Harbor investigations will hear 3,649 witnesses, fill countless volumes with testimony, and ultimately reach the conclusion that the Japs caught us unprepared because we were unprepared.”
—JACK TARVER, COLUMNIST, THE ATLANTA CONSTITUTION
* * *
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During congressional hearings late in the war, and to this day, there are conspiracy theorists who insist that President Roosevelt knew of the attack in advance, and withheld this critical, lifesaving information from Hawaii. Those people are wrong. The lengthy list of co-conspirators necessary to carry out such a plot would fill a book of its own. Those who would have had to participate in this conspiracy include most of the cabinet and dozens of military and intelligence chiefs, not all of whom are fans of Roosevelt. In a great disservice both to history and to the men involved, one congressional hearing that seeks “the truth” devolves into nothing more than partisan bickering between those who support Roosevelt and those who despise him. Very little light is shed on the importance of the intelligence and communications breakdowns that so delude the American government and its military into believing that the Japanese are but a minor threat.
In any significant historical event, the luxury of hindsight opens all manner of doors into cries of conspiracy. Now that we know what happened, there should have been those who saw it coming. This very often devolves into There were definitely those who knew in advance. Despite numerous claims to the contrary, there is no conclusive or convincing evidence to support any conspiracy, in either Washington or Hawaii, that existed prior to December 7, 1941.
“As any great athlete knows, there is no greater disgrace than to be defeated by an opponent you have publicly and frequently denigrated. This is one reason why the psychological wounds of Pearl Harbor have cut so deeply. It also explains why the rumors of sabotage by local Japanese Americans, and allegations that Roosevelt conspired to withhold crucial intelligence from Kimmel and Short, continue to be widely accepted, despite convincing evidence and arguments to the contrary. They are, after all, excuses and explanations for a defeat that is otherwise inexplicable and humiliating.”
—THURSTON CLARKE, HISTORIAN
“No joint action to provide radar reconnaissance, no joint action on air reconnaissance, no joint action to create an aircraft identification center, no antiaircraft ammunition deployed to the army gunners. Above all, there was no effective, systematic liaison by either Short or Kimmel, between the army and the navy. This was the complete opposite of what Washington had expected the two commanders to achieve.”
—HENRY C. CLAUSEN, WAR DEPARTMENT INVESTIGATOR
“The signals that seem to stand out and scream of the impending catastrophe are the ones learned about only after the event.”
—ROBERTA WOHLSTETTER, HISTORIAN
The Japanese are not without errors of their own. For years after, there is debate in Japan about whether Admiral Chuichi Nagumo’s decision not to attack Pearl Harbor for a third time fatally damages Japan’s chances for success in the war. Though Admiral Yamamoto himself questions whether Nagumo’s decision is a grave error, ultimately neither Yamamoto nor anyone of prominence in the Japanese high command officially faults Nagumo. He does, after all, deliver a stunning blow to the American fleet, and escapes virtually unharmed.
However, contrary to lore on both sides of the ocean, the assault is far from perfect, in many ways. By focusing so much of their attention on the battleships, many planes ignore other extremely valuable targets. A number of the dive bombers, whose payloads are effectively useless against the heavily armored battleships, nevertheless expend their bombs, tempted by the size of those targets. Those bombs could have wreaked havoc in a number of other areas, destroying smaller warships, and most important, igniting a massive fire that could have destroyed the military’s enormous fuel depot, which sits close beside the harbor.
As Yamamoto has predicted, the attack on the American fleet is a wound that the Americans can heal. But his goal of crippling that fleet for six months is nearly met. If there is one disastrous outcome for the Japanese, it is the failure to locate and assault the American aircraft carriers, what Yamamoto and Commander Genda always believe to be a major priority. That failure will begin a chain of events that will alter the history of the war.
“It would be a mistake of the first magnitude to credit the success of the Pearl Harbor operation solely to American errors. We have seen how meticulously the Japanese perfected their planning, how diligently they trained their pilots and bombardiers; how they modified weapons…how they dredged up and utilized information…They balked at no hazard, ready to risk a wild leap to achieve their immediate ends.”
—GORDON PRANGE, HISTORIAN
“Whatever the answers, one thing was certain. The enemy came completely undetected, struck with devastating strategic and tactical surprise, left without being followed or found, and left Pearl Harbor and military airfields on Oahu in shambles.”
—BILL MCWILLIAMS, HISTORIAN
SECRETARY OF STATE CORDELL HULL
Despite the stain of blame that covers so many in Washington for their blindness toward the events leading to Pearl Harbor, there is little if any recrimination directed toward Hull. In negotiating with the Japanese, Hull makes every attempt to create a dialogue that will ensure peace. After December 7, Hull’s feelings about the duplicity of the Japanese government are confirmed—that despite the apparent decency of Ambassador Kichisaburo Nomura, the Japanese were never negotiating in good faith, and that war was the inevitable outcome.
In 1943, Hull and many of his staff assemble the drafts and details for what will become the Charter of the United Nations. In recognition, Hull is awarded the 1945 Nobel Peace Prize. He remains in Roosevelt’s cabinet until November 1944, and thus becomes this nation’s longest-serving secretary of state. He retires, suffering ill health, and continues to endure a variety of ailments, including several heart attacks. He dies in Washington, D.C., in 1955, of a stroke, and is buried in the Washington National Cathedral.
HOSPITAL APPRENTICE 2/C THOMAS “TOMMY” BIGGS—USN
The surgery on Biggs’s left arm is successful, but the healing process takes longer than he expects. He is finally released from the hospital at Mare Island, California, in March 1942, and undergoes weeks of physical therapy to regain mobility and strength. Despite pronounced scarring on his scalp, his hair does indeed grow back.
Though he and nurse Loretta Powell continue their close relationship, he will not propose marriage to her as long as he is expecting a return to service. Knowing all too well the cost of war, he will not leave her potentially a widow. She accepts the relationship for what it is, and they are both pleased when she is offered a permanent nursing
position at Mare Island.
As weeks pass, the couple enjoys exploring San Francisco, while Biggs continues his therapy. When officially approved for return to duty, he presses hard for assignment to a warship. His service on the Arizona opens emotional doors with some in command, but his position as hospital apprentice is limiting. He is offered the opportunity for corpsman training, and accepts, returning to Great Lakes, Illinois. Loretta remains in California, and the separation is difficult for the young couple.
Completing his coursework in August 1942, Biggs is certified as a navy corpsman the following month. He asks for, and receives, a posting to the Pacific, and serves on the newly refitted battleship USS Colorado. He is eventually promoted to chief petty officer and serves as corpsman throughout campaigns that include the island-hopping fights for Tarawa, Tinian, Saipan, and Guam. In November 1944, he takes part in the difficult fight in Leyte Gulf, the Philippines, and is wounded severely when struck by shrapnel from a Japanese kamikaze attack. He is evacuated, along with more than two dozen others who have received the most serious wounds. Transported by hospital ship, he eventually returns to San Francisco. But there is no joyous reunion with Loretta Powell. Unable to cope with his lengthy absence, she marries a doctor who is stationed at the hospital.
He remains hospitalized with severe shoulder and chest wounds, and is finally released in July 1945. But with the war drawing to a close, there is no opportunity for him to return to service. He accepts his fate, especially with the inevitable downsizing of the navy. Given his medical training and his rank, he receives numerous offers from former naval officers, including Dr. Daniel Condon, now a civilian. Biggs weighs the offers, and accepts a well-paying position at Provident Hospital in Chicago as a physician’s assistant. In 1948, after a brief courtship, he marries Eileen Jordon, a nurse. They have one daughter, whom they name Kimberly.
