About the only cabinet member whom Konoye might approach for help in averting war was a holdover from the Yonai cabinet, Navy Minister Admiral Yoshida Zengo, who represented the Navy’s reluctance to go to war anytime soon, especially against the United States. But two months after being reseated, Yoshida, repelled by the move toward a German alliance, resigned during the Axis pact debates. Konoye, and, from outside the cabinet, Admiral Yamamoto Isoruku, who by then commanded the Combined Fleet, similarly opposed the pact, Yamamoto telling the prime minister at the debate’s conclusion: “It’s too late to do anything about the Tripartite Pact now, but I hope at least that you’ll make every effort to avoid war with America.”13 The reason he gave was not opposition to that war as such but that the Japanese fleet, while very much improved in readiness, was not yet primed for combat. Despite his declared hopes for peace in the interim, Yamamoto, like a number of others in the Navy, was gradually coming around to the view that war with the United States was inevitable. And, if indeed it was, as he had written six months before, Japan’s only chance to dominate in the Pacific was to strike offensively, and as soon as it was primed, before the American naval construction program marginalized Japanese naval power and made Japan’s imperial ambitions moot. Under Yamamoto’s influence, a growing number of high-ranking officers in the Navy began closing ranks with the Army.
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On the American side, where there was also a growing sense of inevitability, most voices urged delay. Ambassador Grew cabled State that “we must strive by every means to preserve the status quo in the Pacific at least until the European war has been won or lost.” But the normally cautious Grew startled Hull and Hornbeck with a call for a “show of force” in the region, “together with a determination to employ it if need be.”14 Such an action posed risks that went well beyond what the American people were prepared to accept. The presidential election platforms of both the Democratic and Republican parties that fall flatly rejected the acceptability of American participation in any foreign war. Roosevelt, the Democratic candidate, made the same rejection, “except in case of attack.”15 Wendell Willkie, his opponent, concurred, endorsing aid to Britain and China, but “short of war.”
Both candidates were fully aware of the isolationist temper in much of the country, though it had subsided since 1935 when the majority of U.S. citizens had expressed opposition to further foreign entanglements. A Gallup poll taken that year revealed that 70 percent of respondents thought that American entry into the “Great War” of 1914–18 had been a mistake. There was widespread revulsion at the carnage, at the fortunes made by armaments manufacturers, at the false propaganda, and at the failed peace. Some of the resentment originated from German-Americans and Irish-Americans, for ethnic reasons, but the antiwar sentiment was sufficiently wide-based that Congress passed, on 20 August 1935, a Neutrality Act that forebade the export of arms, munitions, and implements of war to all combatants in future wars, without distinction as to aggressor or victim. The arms ban sections of four Neutrality Acts passed between 1935 and 1939 were repealed on 3 November 1939. That made possible financial loans to China, and arms sales to Britain, which went to war against Germany in the preceding September, on a “cash and carry” basis. And when Britain ran out of cash, it enabled Roosevelt to sell Congress on passage of the Lend-Lease bill (HR-1776), on 11 March 1941, that continued such aid.16 By that date sympathy for Britain’s cause had grown strong in the country; Gallup polls found that the public supported the Lend-Lease program by a margin of more than two to one.17
Interestingly, the Gallup poll for 10 January 1941 asked the benchmark question, Was it a mistake for the United States to have entered the first World War?, and received the response: 39 percent yes, 42 percent no, with 19 percent having no opinion. The same question asked again on 6 April elicited almost exactly the same numbers.18 If the Gallup poll was an accurate measure, the isolationist mood was softening. But there remained a strong inclination to keep American troops out of the European war. On 3 February and 10 March, the poll asked separately if the United States should enter the war against Germany and Italy. The first poll received answers of 15 percent yes and 85 percent no; the second 17 percent yes, 81 percent no.19 The public was realistic, however, as shown in the poll published on 27 April, which asked, Do you believe that the United States will go into the war in Europe sometime before it’s over, or do you think we will stay out?, the answers were: Will go in, 82 percent; Will stay out, 18 percent.20 Similarly, when asked on 28 April, If it appeared that there was no other way to defeat Germany and Italy except for the United States to go to war against them, would you be in favor of the United States going to war?, 68 percent answered yes, 24 percent no, with 8 percent having no opinion.21
The Gallup poll asked comparatively few questions about Japan. During the whole of 1940 there were only two, and it was the same question asked twice: Do you think our Government should forbid the sale of arms, airplanes, gasoline, and other war materials to Japan? On 14 February 75 percent answered yes, 25 percent no; on 20 October 90 percent answered yes, 10 percent no.22 On 24 February 1941 the poll asked, Do you think the United States should try to keep Japan from seizing the Dutch East Indies and Singapore? The yes response were 56 percent, the no response 24 percent, and those with no opinion numbered 20 percent. It would seem that, in the minds of respondents, the question addressed only such restraints as diplomacy and embargoes on war materials, rather than armed intervention, since when the same question was asked on 14 March, and the kicker, “should risk war if necessary” was added, the affirmative replies dropped to 40 percent and the negative rose to 39 percent.23 Two more questions about Japan were asked during the remainder of 1941. The first, on 7 September, disclosed how far the public had advanced by that date in its willingness to risk war. To the question, Should the United States take steps now to keep Japan from becoming more powerful, even if it means risking a war with Japan?, the responses were 70 percent yes, 19 percent no, with 12 percent having no opinion.24 The final question about Japan before 7 December, asked in the interview period from 27 November to 1 December, read: Do you think the United States will go to war against Japan sometime in the near future? The respondents, nearly two to one, thought so: 52 percent yes, 27 percent no, with 21 percent having no opinion.25 That, approximately, is what the American citizenry was thinking, as reported by the only semidependable instrument history can rely on for the period.
What was the President of the country thinking about where Japan and Germany were concerned during 1941? The answer: Franklin Roosevelt was thinking about the same thing that Ambassador Grew had proposed to Secretary Hull: a show of force. Taking Japan first, Roosevelt thought that the militarists in Tokyo were best handled, not by cowering in harbors, but by overt demonstrations of will and power. While probably not directly influenced by Hull’s backroom adviser Hornbeck at State, who consistently underestimated Japan’s naval strength and willingness to fight, the President certainly thought in parallel with him. In order to warn Japan about her continued occupation of China territory, and to deter her, as well, from any intended operations in southern Indo-China, Malaya, and the Dutch East Indies, Roosevelt thought it apropos to resurrect in miniature the Great White Fleet of his uncle Theodore. In early February he conceived the notion of sending a detachment of the Pacific Fleet—carriers, approximately four cruisers, and a squadron of destroyers—on a temporary visit to the Philippines and Far East waters, going down through the Phoenix and Gilbert or the Fiji Islands, then reaching over to Mindanao and Manila. The notion was strongly supported by Hull, but just as vigorously opposed by Stark, who thought that what Roosevelt called a “bluff” might turn out to be a casus belli. He sternly lectured the President, and, because of their long friendship, he knew he could do so without offending him:
We want to give Japan no excuse for coming in in case we are forced into hostilities with Germany who we all consider our major problem.
The Pacific Fleet is no
w weaker in total tonnage and aircraft than the Japanese Navy. [This was before the detachment of one-fourth of the fleet’s strength to the Atlantic in May and June.] It is, however, a very strong force and as long as it is in its present position it remains a constant serious and real threat to Japan’s flank. If any considerable division is sent to Manila it might prove an invitation to Japan to attack us in detail and thus greatly lessen or remove our serious naval threat to her for a considerable period to come. I believe that it would be a grave strategic error at this time to divide our Pacific Fleet.
Stark laid out more of his reasoning:
Right now, Japan does not know what we intend. If we send part of the Fleet to the Asiatic now, we may show our hand and lost [sic] the value of any strategic surprise. We might encourage Japan to move, rather than deter her, and also we might very well compromise our own future operations.
Toward the end of his presentation to Roosevelt, Stark referred to a cable received from the American embassy at Tokyo, dated 7 February, in which the mercurial Ambassador Grew, now back to pulling his talons after a brief fling as a hawk, said, “Risk of war would be certain to follow increased concentration of American vessels in the Far East.… The risk should not be taken unless our country is ready to force hostilities.”26
To Kimmel at Pearl, Stark wrote about his “two hour struggle (please keep this absolutely secret) in the White House,” and said that, while Hull opposed him, “You may be amused to know that the Secretary of War, Colonel Stimson, has been of very great assistance to me in this connection in recent conference.”27 He told Kimmel that the President had backed off for the time being. “I have fought this over many times and won, but this time the decision may go against me.”28 Kimmel replied on 18 February: “While my political horizon is limited, I believe we should be prepared for war when we make this move.”29 Between 10 and 25 February the question of sending a fleet detachment to the Far East came up twice again at the White House. The President was finding it hard to make a decision. He knew he should be doing something, but what? In this and other matters affecting relations with Japan the White House was drifting. The initiatives all belonged to Japan. Policy makers from the President down seemed to be particularly troubled by the question of what the United States should do if Japan were to attack Malaya and the Netherlands East Indies. Stark, who was not bound by partisan politics or factions, is a good source for the indecision and confusion that abounded from February to July. To Kimmel he wrote, on 25 February:
The difficulty is that the entire country is in a dozen minds about the war—to stay out altogether, to go in against Germany in the Atlantic, to concentrate against Japan in the Pacific and the Far East—I simply cannot predict the outcome. Gallup polls, editorials, talk on the Hill (and I might add, all of which is irresponsible) constitute a rising tide for action in the Far East if the Japanese go into Singapore or the Netherlands East Indies. This can not be ignored and we must have in the back of our heads the possibility of having to swing to that tide.… This would mean that any reinforcement to the Atlantic might become impossible, and, in any case, would be reduced by just so much as we would send to the Asiatic [Fleet]. And that might be a very serious matter for Britain.30
In April, Roosevelt finally got his way with a warship foray into the western Pacific, but, at Stark’s urging, the form of the voyage was a nonthreatening southern route “practice cruise” to Australia and New Zealand. The ships taking part were the heavy cruisers Chicago and Portland, the light cruisers Brooklyn and Savannah, and Destroyer Squadron (Desron) 3. Their crews received a hearty welcome in the Commonwealth nations, and some solid training was obtained along the way. No harm was done and possibly some good was achieved. But Stark was truly alarmed by Roosevelt’s newest “harebrained scheme.” He quoted the President in a personal letter to Kimmel, dated 19 April:
The President said (and incidentally when I open up to you this way I don’t expect you to quote the President and I know that there is nobody who can keep things secret better than you can): “Betty just as soon as those ships come back from Australia and New Zealand, or perhaps a little before, I want to send some more out. I just want to keep them popping up here and there, and keep the Japs guessing.” This, of course, is right down the State Department’s alley. To my mind a lot of State Department’s suggestions and recommendations are nothing less than childish (don’t quote me) and I have practically said so in so many words in the presence of all concerned.31
Popping up all over the Pacific to say “Boo!” to the Japanese was to play a dangerous game, in Stark’s view. Following an alternative tactic, he decided this time to see Roosevelt’s chips and raise him. He proposed a plan to send a carrier force out northwest of Hawaii to a point within striking distance of Japan, which would really give the Japanese a thrill, given “their unholy fear of bombing.” (In his letter of 25 February, Stark had advised Kimmel that, in planning offensive raids after the opening of hostilities, he should consider carrier bombing attacks on the “inflammable Japanese cities—ostensibly on military objectives.”) The tactic worked. “I thought for once, if I could, I would give the State Department a shock,” Stark wrote to Kimmel. “I had a broad inward smile when the State Department in effect said: ‘Please Mr. President, don’t let him do it’; or words to that effect. It was a little too much for them.”32
Whenever he turned his gaze to the Pacific Roosevelt was edgy and erratic. Or so Stark thought. To his confidant and former director of war plans “Savvy” Cooke, skipper now of the flagship Pennsylvania, Stark complained, “To some of my very pointed questions, which all of us would like to have answered, I get a smile or a ‘Betty, please don’t ask me that.’” He confided to Cooke that he had more than once offered to resign. “Policy seems to be something never fixed, always fluid and changing.” He said of his letter, “I think you should burn it after showing it to Kimmel.”33 (Fortunately for history Yamamoto’s and Stark’s addressees did not always observe that admonition.) If it is true, as is often alleged, that Roosevelt all along wanted to go to war, it is far from certain that war with Japan was the war he wanted—at least not now.
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By contrast, where Germany was concerned, Roosevelt was totally focused, resolute, confident, and daring, to the extent of giving Admiral Ernest J. King, commander in chief of the Atlantic Fleet, license to make war at the time of his choosing in the North Atlantic Ocean. There the enemy was the one arm of the German Navy (Kreigsmarine) that by summer 1941 was still playing a significant offensive role in the war against England. Hitler’s heavy units were then frozen in port, the Führer not willing to see happen to them what happened to the battleship Bismarck, which was famously sunk by a combined air-sea force of the Royal Navy on 27 May 1941. The still active arm was the submarine fleet (Unterseebootwaffe), commanded by Admiral Karl Dönitz. From the first week of September 1939, Dönitz’s U-boats had waged a tonnage war (Tonnagekrieg) against Britain’s merchant fleet of freighters and tankers in a campaign to sink more British tonnage than could be replaced with new construction. Britain depended on her ocean trade for all her fuel oil and refined gasoline, most of her raw materials, and half of her food. Dönitz’s staff had calculated in 1940 that the U-boats would have to inflict a monthly loss rate of 700,000 gross register tons (GRT) in order to strangle Britain’s armed forces and industries and to starve into submission Britain’s people. (The British had estimated that 600,000 would do them in.) By July 1941, however, they had never reached that goal, nor would they in the entire course of the war, excepting November 1942, when they sank 118 ships for a record 743,321 GRT. Because of the unexpectedly productive American shipyards, in that same November merchant ship construction passed and continued to pass thereafter, with ever increasing plurality, the figures for merchant ship losses to U-boats. It was clear by that date that Dönitz’s tonnage battle was not winnable.
But it was not so clear earlier, in 1940 and 1941, when Roosevelt worried that wha
t German chancellor Adolf Hitler had failed to do with his Luftwaffe he might well accomplish with his Unterseebootwaffe: take Britain out of the war. That would be a disaster for the British people, but it would be an equal disaster for American arms should they be called upon to rescue the European continent from Naziism, since the British Isles were the indispensable jumping-off point, and an unsinkable aircraft carrier, for mounting that endeavor. Too, a technologically advanced German armed force, with perhaps the entire British Home Fleet under its swastika, would pose a grave threat to America’s own security. Therefore, in September 1940, with solid Gallup poll backing (62 percent), Roosevelt transferred fifty obsolete World War I–era four-stack destroyers to Britain in exchange for bases under ninety-nine-year leases in the Bahamas, Jamaica, Antigua, St. Lucia, Trinidad, and British Guiana. Ten of the destroyers barely made it across the Atlantic, but even in lame condition the old tin cans could be put to work in the Royal Navy’s antisubmarine effort. By strict interpretation the warship transfers violated the neutrality provisions set down in the Hague Conference of 1907, and a grateful Winston Churchill wrote nine years later that the exchange “was a decidedly unneutral act by the United States” that would have “justified” Hitler in declaring war.34 Berlin was appropriately indignant, but the declaration would not come until fourteen months later, after Pearl Harbor.
Pearl Harbor Betrayed Page 10
