A Mighty Endeavor

by Stuart Slade

  “Oh?” Secretary Stimson sounded confused; suddenly, realization dawned on him. “Ohhh. The bombs hit the roof and wreck it, but the inside remains undamaged?”

  “Exactly. We need to fit our bombs with delayed action fuzes. It sounds simple, but it appears nobody thought of that. A dead space between the roof and the ceiling of the factory floor is excellent protection. The roof sets the fuze off and the ceiling catches the debris. Reinforcing building roofs is also a simple defense. Anyway, we’re going to have to do a lot of research on what it takes to blow a factory up before we can take a target list and estimate the force we need to destroy it. We’ll probably need to take a real factory and bomb it just to see what happens. One thing I will say now, the 250-pounder won’t hack it. We’re looking at 500-or 1000-pounders, at least, to get real effects. Possibly much larger. We could be dropping 4000-pounders by the time this war is over. We’ll have to bear that in mind when designing the bomb bays for our aircraft.”

  “Thank you, Phillip. I suggest you find a disused factory we can employ for that purpose. Now, I assume everybody has heard that the Japanese have offered to ‘mediate’ a negotiated peace between French Indochina and Thailand?” Cordell Hull looked around the table. More heads shook than nodded. “Mediated is a very polite way of putting it. Dictated terms that suit themselves would be closer. I have those terms here. Essentially they are that Thailand gets a small strip of land along the border. Quite a bit less than they have occupied over the last few days. Japan gets full basing rights and essentially complete political control over the rest of French Indochina, along with free access rights to Indochinese and Thai territory ‘to monitor the ceasefire’. Oh, and the French authorities plus the Thai government will be expected to pay significant amounts to Japan to compensate them for their efforts.”

  “That’s not a mediated ceasefire; that’s a power grab.” Stimson frowned. “Are the Thais complicit in this? In league with the Japanese?”

  “Given the nature of their reply, I hardly think so.” Hull looked around, his opinions conflicted. On one hand, he was delighted at what he had read; on the other, perturbed that his original judgment had been so mistaken. Driven by his instinctive prejudices against military governments, he had nearly made a catastrophic mistake by alienating a valuable ally. “To quote the Thai Foreign Ministry, ‘Since the Empire of Japan has no legitimate presence, position or interest in the Indochina region, the Kingdom of Thailand firmly and unequivocally rejects the ultimatum masquerading as a mediated settlement to the current hostilities between the Kingdom and the French Indochina authorities. These hostilities are a matter between the participants and will be resolved on a bilateral basis between them. Furthermore, the Kingdom of Thailand advises the Empire of Japan that it will not be allowed access rights to Thai territory and any attempt to secure such rights will be resisted by all the force at the Kingdom’s disposal.’ In non-dipiomatic language that reads ‘mind your own business and drop dead in the process.’ It’s about the most emphatic rejection of a diplomatic approach I have seen in forty years of public service. The French Indochina authorities have accepted the Japanese proposals. I would say that the two reactions have drawn the lines of political alignments quite definitively.”

  Suriyothai, honey, when you nail your colors to the mast, you sure use the largest nails you can find. Stuyvesant restrained himself from grinning at the thought. He was forestalled from saying anything by Henry Morgenthau’s worried comment.

  “Aren’t the French doing quite well? The Thai advance seems limited and the French are claiming a major naval victory. They’re saying they’ve sunk a third of the Thai Navy including both their largest battleships and three destroyers.”

  Stimson shook his head. “Not according to our military attache there. One of the ships the French claim to have sunk is in Sattahip. She’s not just undamaged; she wasn’t even in the battle. The other one was towed into Bangkok the day after the battle. She’s badly shot up but afloat. They’re coast defense ships, by the way, not battleships. The Thais say they’ve lost two torpedo boats; that’s all. We do know they drove off the French squadron. It’s in Saigon right now, with their cruiser and at least one sloop damaged. On land, the French are facing an imminent disaster. Their counterattack was a complete failure and it seems like their army has been surrounded at Battambang. That’s probably why they accepted the Japanese proposal. It’s the only chance they have of stopping the situation unravelling completely.”

  “I think it is fairly obvious that reversing our position on arms supplies was a major factor in Thailand adopting its anti-Japanese alignment.” Cordell Hull sounded almost sanctimoniously pleased with himself.

  Given a week, you’ll have convinced yourself that this was what you had planned all along. Stuyvesant contented himself with nodding thoughtfully at Hull’s statement. Hull’s next words caught him by surprise.

  “Since they are obviously aligned with our interests, perhaps we should make our support clearer? Unfortunately, we appear to have run out of British and French aircraft to give away.”

  A ripple of laughter ran around the room. The truth was that the vast stockpile of undelivered French and British aircraft had been put to a far better use than its original owners could ever have thought possible. The political and strategic gains from their distribution far exceeded their actual military value.

  Stimson raised a hand in a munificent gesture. “Actually, I might be able to help there. I was speaking with General Marshall this morning. Apparently, the British bought 100 M2A4 light tanks, which remain undelivered. They were scheduled for our own use, but we have a new model, the M3, being introduced. Their loss will not be significant. Perhaps, if we were to offer them to the Thais, the reinforcement would make their rejection of the Japanese all the more emphatic?”

  “They belong to the Commonwealth of Nations as the legitimate successor to the British government.” Cordell Hull was firm on that. The proprieties had to be observed. “Of course, if the Indians, Australians, Canadians and South Africans don’t mind, the transfer would be possible.”

  “The South Africans want armored cars. The Canadians are building Valentines. It’s just the Indians and Australians who matter and I think we know where the Indians stand on this. They won’t object.”

  Cordell Hull acknowledged Stimson’s assessment with a nod. “Phillip, you look like you have a thought on this?”

  “It seems to me that a longer-term commitment is necessary. Speaking as a businessman, I’d want to know that the current relationship is stable before investing. After all, we have reversed course on Thailand twice now.”

  “Perhaps a long-term financial commitment?” Henry Morgenthau spoke diffidently. He’d seen the intricate detail of the studies on German industry and didn’t like what he was seeing. The sheer complexity and number of variables in the picture that had been presented made him question the plausibility of theories based around central economic planning. That ran against the beliefs of a lifetime and made him pleased to get back to simpler and less disturbing ground. “Extend a substantial credit line, repayable over a long period at a low rate of interest? That would be a sign that the relationship now being established is an enduring one.”

  “And what they do with the money would also be useful information on their real policies and intents.” Hull nodded approvingly. “An excellent suggestion, Henry. Has anybody anything else to add?”

  There was a generalized murmur of denial and Hull looked around happily. “Very well then; I will present these opinions to the next meeting of the cabinet. Phillip, I will let you know when that will be. I understand that your team has finished the first draft of Air War Plan Directive One. Please hold yourself ready to attend the appropriate part of that meeting. I fear nobody else can present the information you have gathered in a way that will do it justice. On that note, I move this meeting be closed.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: REACHING AN UNDERSTANDING

  Town Hall,
Phoum Dak Pay, French Indochina

  This was a humiliation that Admiral Jean Decoux had never anticipated. In 1940, he had been appointed to the position of governor of Indochina with specific instructions to reverse the policy of appeasement towards the Japanese led by his predecessor, General Georges Catroux. When he had arrived in Hanoi, he had found that Catroux was far from being the appeaser Decoux had been told. Political realities forced them both to follow that road. Neither had received any support from the new government in Vichy and both had faced intense pressure from the Japanese. The Japanese wanted French Indochina as a base from which to strike at the rich resource areas further south. There was a further truth, one that Decoux had a harder job accepting. The government in Vichy may have condemned Catroux as an appeaser, but appeasement was the policy that they demanded. In effect, his predecessor had been disgraced for obeying the instructions he had been given. Decoux had taken that lesson on board and concentrated all his efforts on trying to resist the Japanese advance while not giving them the excuse to seize complete control by force. He had never expected this devastating blow from the west. His civil servants had assured him that displays of force would be entirely adequate to eliminate any threat from that quarter.

  “Is it really as bad as they say?” Admiral Decoux needed the advice on the situation at the front. General Catroux was the only reliable source he could consult.

  “It is a disaster. Another Sedan.” Catroux was a deeply worried and unhappy man. He was utterly disillusioned with the authorities in Vichy who had thrown him to the wolves and were now trying to do the same to Decoux. “The forces in the Battambang pocket tried to link up with the smaller pocket to the north yesterday, but the attack was repulsed with losses on our side. It is like the fighting at home last year; it is the air forces that are determining the course of the war. We have lost twenty-two aircraft so far, and another dozen or more on the ground. Our fighters have been shot down and our bombers driven from the sky. The Siamese dive bombers can go where they want and do what they wish. And they are very good at their work.”

  “How long do we have?” It was the most important piece of information Decoux wanted. It would determine everything else that he could achieve.

  Catroux thought carefully. It was so easy to give in to despair and give up while there was still hope. Yet, it was also so easy to convince oneself there was hope when all chances of victory had faded. “A week; perhaps ten days. By then, the encircled troops will have had to surrender and we will have lost the one good card still in our hand. While they resist, we can negotiate a peace settlement on terms. Once they are gone, the Siamese will simply dictate what terms they will. At least we have one consolation. We have heard from the Swiss that the Siamese are treating the prisoners they have taken with great kindness. We should respond in kind, of course. We have fourteen of their aircrew as our prisoners and treating them as guests rather than prisoners would be wise.”

  “Of course; that goes without saying.” Decoux was slightly annoyed at any suggestion the prisoners of war would be anything other than well-treated. The fact that the Thais had almost a thousand French prisoners of war in their hands took any decision on that point out of his hands.

  The conversation was interrupted by the entry of the Thai delegation. The fact that the French had arrived first and had to wait for the Thais to appear was itself an admission of who was winning this war. Decoux was startled to see the leader of the group was a woman. There had been rumors for some time that a previously-unknown woman had been commanding this offensive, but it was the first time he had actually seen her. She was short, stocky and her hair was cut short in the style favored by Thai women. One look at her and the deference given to her was enough to tell him she truly was in charge here. And not just of the Thai forces. It was her will that was driving the whole situation. Decoux could feel the force of that will from across the room.

  “Admiral Decoux, General Catroux, I am the Ambassador-Plenipotentiary of the Kingdom of Thailand. That title means that I have full authority to negotiate a settlement of the dispute between our countries. Let us do so now, and not waste more lives.”

  The Ambassador’s French was smooth and fluent. To Decoux, who had heard his language butchered by faulty grammar and pronunciation so often, her perfect rendition was a pleasure to hear. He was sincerely distressed at having to disappoint her. “Madam Ambassador, your government has received the settlement terms dictated by the Japanese mediators of this dispute. These offer an acceptable resolution of the conflict and we base our position upon them.”

  The Ambassador shook her head. The Japanese had tried to insist that these negotiations be held on board the cruiser Natori, currently in Kompong Som, but her government had flatly refused to consider that demand. “I regret to inform you that the position of the Government has not changed. The Japanese terms are not acceptable and will not be considered as a basis for a settlement of this dispute. Our terms are quite simple; we require the restoration of our borders as they were prior to your encroachment upon them from I860 onwards. We also require our borders to be defensible. For that reason, we require the return of all our territories south of the Mekong River and the establishment of the border between Thailand and French Indochina as the riparian center of the Mekong.”

  “What the devil is the riparian center?” Admiral Decoux whispered the question to General Catroux.

  “The line representing the deepest part of the river in question. It’s the normal way of defining a boundary represented by a river.”

  “We are sorry, Madam Ambassador. We have no choice other than to accept the Japanese proposal and reject any other. I mean that literally; we have no choice in the matter other than to accept the Japanese proposal. Or any Japanese proposal, for that matter.”

  “As will you.” The words from the door cut across the Ambassador before she could start to speak. “The mediated settlement we have dictated will be accepted without change. That is our final word on the matter.”

  The Ambassador stared at the man who had stormed into the meeting room. He was almost a caricature of a Japanese Army officer. Short and bald, but with a bristling moustache; his eyes behind circular rimless glasses, which exaggerated the folds. He was wearing a British-style Sam Browne belt over his Japanese Army uniform and a katana sword hung from it. She shook her head slightly. “And just who are you?”

  “I am Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, direct representative of the Imperial Japanese Army.”

  “Very well, Colonel Tsuji. If you have an intelligent remark to make, please do so. Otherwise, leave. I am not impressed by foolish men who pound on their hairy chests with closed fists.”

  Decoux looked at the two facing each other with something close to awe. The space between them seemed to crackle with energy from their clash. He also realized something else; a blood feud was being born in front of his eyes. Tsuji’s fanatical hatred of the Ambassador was being met by her withering contempt for him. He also realized that Tsuji was confused. Decoux seriously doubted whether he had been openly defied in such a public and blatant manner before.

  “I do not have a hairy chest.” Tsuji nearly screamed the words in response. To Decoux it seemed a very strange thing to say. He guessed he was missing a cultural reference that the Ambassador had used to flick a very raw nerve.

  The Ambassador seemed slightly surprised. “How strange. I thought you would have taken after your mother.”

  This time, Tsuji did scream with rage. He started to draw the sword at his waist. There was a rattle of bolts. The Ambassador’s bodyguards cocked the heavy Thompson submachine guns they were carrying. The Ambassador herself had reached underneath her jacket and drawn two semi-automatic pistols. Decoux recognized them as German P08 Lugers, but they were obviously chambered for a much larger round than the usual 9mm. He guessed they were .45s. As far as he knew, only three Lugers in that caliber had been made. And this woman had two of them? She now stood there with one in each hand, looking at the
sword with unconcealed and blistering contempt.

  “How like the Japanese to bring a tooth-pick to a gun fight.”

  Tsuji paused for a second, shuddering with the effort to control himself. Eventually, he slammed the sword back into its sheath and stared at the Ambassador with searing hatred. “You will die screaming for this.”

  “My enemies have often said that.” The Ambassador’s voice was reflective and, to Decoux’s amazement, amused. “Instead, they all died; screaming soprano.”

  Tsuji glared at her, turned around and stormed out. The Ambassador holstered her pistols and sat down at the negotiation table again. “My apologies, General, Admiral, for the interruption. Sadly, I believe that the unwarranted Japanese interference in our relations means that we are at an impasse now. Might I suggest we meet again in a week? At which time, I believe you may have a window of opportunity to reach an agreement that represents our mutual interests, not those of Japan. Our troops will, of course, be continuing their operations during that period.”

  Decoux exhaled, suddenly realizing he had been holding his breath as long as Tsuji had been in the room. “Madam Ambassador, I don’t understand what you said to him, but I have never seen that man so angry or filled with hate.”

  She smiled. “In Japan, there is a class of people called the burakumin, or eta. They are literally the lowest of the low, ranking even beneath whores, beggars, night-soil collectors and so on. They are regarded as being so disgusting that any other Japanese touching them, even those of the lowest and most degraded kind, has to be ritually cleansed of pollution. The burakumin are supposed to be distinguished by having hairy chests. There are rumors that the mother of Masanobu Tsuji was burakumin, but his father’s family covered it up to save them from unspeakable disgrace.”