Days of Infamy

by Newt Gingrich

  “How many do you think we really got?” James asked, as they got in Collingwood’s DeSoto and started back to the naval base.

  He shook his head.

  “Hell, you know as much as I do.”

  “I’m guessing two,” James replied. “One for Enterprise, one for Lexington.”

  “Only one confirmed, and that was Akagi,” Collingwood replied. “Remember, guessing is our business, but when it comes to counting carriers sunk, I’ll play conservative.”

  Akagi. He remembered his old friend Fuchida. Fuchida had talked about the first of Japan’s carriers, his love for it. His guess was that it had indeed served as the flagship and that Yamamoto himself was most likely on board, a hunch that Collingwood agreed with and had passed up the chain, for what it was worth. If true, there was a chance that Yamamoto might be dead… and his old friend as well.

  “And we lost Lexington, and Enterprise is a cripple,” James said wearily.

  It startled all of them when a destroyer briefly broke radio silence, using a prewar code, requesting an oiler rendezvous, if possible tomorrow, five hundred miles to the southeast of Oahu, with Pearl to broadcast the coordinates, and then gone off the air. One could read a lot into that message. The subtext was clear. The destroyer had been escorting Enterprise. It had made the broadcast rather than run in with the message because the situation was desperate. Enterprise was most likely severely damaged to the point that it needed a dry dock, and it was slowly limping back to the West Coast, desperately short on fuel.

  The worry now was that the Japanese had picked up the signal as well, perhaps had already cracked the prewar code, and surmised the same, that Enterprise was still alive, crippled, and desperately short of fuel… and would send a reception committee of subs to whatever coordinate was broadcast.

  After several backups, a long snarl in traffic moving between Hickam and Pearl, they finally reached the parking lot where James had left his car… to confront a gaping crater fifty feet across and half as deep.

  “God damn, it makes you think it’s personal,” James sighed, realizing his old reliable Plymouth had taken a direct hit from a fourteen-inch shell.

  As they backed up and drove off, he remembered a clause in his auto insurance policy. “Void if damaged or destroyed by acts of war.”

  He hoped Margaret wouldn’t insist upon selling his plane now, to pay for a new car. But then again, was his old beloved Aeronca Chief still intact? Or had it been shot up as well? If so, even more than the loss of the car, that would really piss him off.

  They finally turned onto Pali Highway, and Collingwood drove him home before turning back around to head to his apartment near Waikiki. Still the same: roadblock, East Coast evacuated, the Japs might invade.

  Neither said a word as they produced their IDs and were finally waved through.

  “A guy on the next floor of my apartment keeps a Studebaker here on the island. Good guy, Josh Morris, he usually winters here from L.A., some Hollywood agent type. I got the keys to his car, turn it over for him every few weeks or so. I’ll bring it over tomorrow; you can use it until he shows up, if ever.”

  “Thanks.” He was still brooding on the loss of his car, wondering if maybe since it was lost in the line of duty, the Navy might help pick up the bill. Hell, a year ago I was retired. I sacrificed a third of my pay when I was called back up.

  But then again, he almost felt guilty thinking of it as they passed a block of houses, half of them burned out, a crater marking where someone’s life or lives had been randomly cut short—like millions of other lives in this insane world of 1941. And he thought of Joe, who had so eagerly donated his entire business in order to get their communications up and running again. Chances were he’d never get a dime back for his efforts, and he didn’t seem to care. He was proud of what he had done for his country.

  They turned onto the street where Margaret’s cousin lived. And as always, he wondered if she had some sort of secret telescope to know when he was coming home. She was already out the door.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow, we’ll get that other car,” Collingwood said, as James started to get out.

  “OK.”

  “James.”

  “Sir?”

  “You did good, damn good.”

  He sighed.

  “But not good enough. None of us did good enough.”

  Collingwood touched his left shoulder and James winced. Though the infection seemed arrested for the moment, it still hurt like hell.

  “That was two days ago. I’m talking about now, about tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He smiled and got out, Margaret helping him.

  “You OK?” he asked, sensing something.

  “Sure,” she said forcing a smile.

  He was surprised to see Dianne standing by the door, his beloved mother-in-law by her side, the old woman with her arm around Dianne. Dianne’s features had a look of exhaustion. He noticed the pistol in her hand.

  Something had happened, he didn’t know what, whether it boded well or ill.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Margaret said. “Thank God you’re home safe.”

  Epilogue

  Kaga

  540 miles west of Oahu

  December 10, 1941

  23:55 hrs local time

  THE SUMMONS FROM Tokyo had come as he expected it would. It was ordered that the Commander in Chief, Naval Forces Pacific, was to report immediately to Tokyo for consultations with the government, the Naval Board, and the Emperor. By midday, a four-engine seaplane would meet the fleet to take him back.

  A full squadron of Zeroes would provide escort as they flew the thousand-mile gap between Wake Island and Midway, still held by the Americans, finally to be handed off to Zeroes that would provide cover to the Marshalls. Once refueled, the plane would start the long two-day journey back to Tokyo.

  He smiled at his two subordinates, sensing that they were still fuming with rage over the summons received last night.

  “It is but of the moment,” he said with a smile. “Those back home wanted a war, but never truly understood the price of war, and they must be educated to it and its risks if we are to win.”

  Genda started to say something but then lowered his head.

  “Go on, Genda, I trust your judgment.”

  “Sir, they will try to hang the loss of Akagi, Hiei, a cruiser, and a hundred and forty aircraft on you.”

  He held up his hand, motioning for him to relax.

  “And in return we can confirm the annihilation of their battleship line, the destruction of their main Pacific naval base, the decimation of their aircraft, and the sinking of one of their precious carriers, perhaps two, even three.”

  “I would claim at least two,” Fuchida interjected.

  “I thought the same until we intercepted that signal from their destroyer. Why send an urgent demand for oil with a meeting hundreds of miles southeast of Oahu? Surely we did not destroy all of their reserves on Pearl Harbor. Also, your brave attack destroyed the only dry dock that could repair a ship as big as their Enterprise. Therefore, I believe it is still afloat, crippled, and heading to their West Coast. Your gallant attack has therefore left us the chance to still finish their carrier off.”

  Fuchida did not say anything.

  “If it had been Akagi’s pilots who led that strike, with Fuchida as commander,” Genda replied forcefully, “that ship would be confirmed sunk.”

  “Are you casting aspersions on the bravery or accuracy of reports of the pilots from Soryu and Hiryu?”

  Genda, embarrassed, shook his head.

  “And can our gallant Fuchida be everywhere at once?”

  Fuchida reddened and lowered his head.

  “I thank the gods he was with us yesterday. His sharp vision alone perhaps saved Kaga from the same fate as Akagi.”

  The admiral sighed and looked out the window.

  “No, I am not worried about the whining of petty politicians and bureaucr
ats. As I said, they need to be educated. They wanted a war, they have one now, and it will come with a price.

  “If we had turned aside after our two strikes, even the three strikes on Pearl Harbor and the other land bases, then we would be haunted with the knowledge that two, perhaps three or more of their carriers were still afloat, ready to strike back. We can confirm only one.”

  He hesitated.

  “And, yes, for argument’s sake for now, I’ll claim another, though I doubt it. To claim it subtly but lay the prospect before them is a gambit of the moment. Though with the foolish breaking of their radio silence and our dispatching of three submarines in pursuit, maybe there will be an additional American carrier in the bag, as they say.”

  He smiled.

  “It has only started. There will be more risks, more damage to be absorbed, but unless we unhinge the Americans now, drive them back with ferocity and continually defeat what they throw at us, in the long run, it will wear us down. We can not give them breathing room, time to rearm, to build anew. We must force them to continue the fight now. Hopefully our blows will be so hard that the political will that their president has so far marshaled will crumble into bitter political wrangling and casting of blame. If that happens and we continue to defeat them, perhaps with their will weakened by internal squabbling, they will agree to negotiate after all.”

  Later this day, as the fleet passed south of Midway, a strike would be launched against that American base by the four carriers still serviceable, even while an attack from land-based aircraft again pounded Wake Island.

  His plans were already forming: once his carriers were refueled, resupplied, and fresh squadrons loaded on board, to turn back around, and seize those two islands… and from there to enforce a stranglehold blockade on the Hawaiian Islands. They had no carriers in the Pacific, unless, as he suspected in his heart, at least one of their Saratoga-class ships had evaded him completely undamaged. If that were so, then he must sink that next.

  Though he knew Japan did not now have the strength to invade Oahu—anyone who thought otherwise was a fool—he could still blockade it, perhaps even seize one of the smaller islands as a forward base, and thus lure their remaining carriers to transfer from the Atlantic to the Pacific, out for a climatic battle, another Tsushima.

  He thought of the report just handed to him before the summons arrived from Tokyo. Land-based planes had located the British battleship Prince of Wales and the battle cruiser Repulse and were preparing to engage come dawn. If that strike was successful, not only would it offset even the loss of Hiei, it would shatter British ocean power in the Pacific as thoroughly as he was destroying American power.

  Perhaps then reason might prevail, concessions be made. Japan would hold the British, Dutch, and French possessions in the Pacific. American will might disintegrate, or they might fall into their traditional bickering amongst themselves and accept the inevitable. The American politicians, weary of the struggle and given a chance to unhinge the power held by their President Roosevelt, would urge compromise. They would see the gesture of returning the Philippines to them as compensation for signing a peace agreement that left Japan with its new empire intact. The subtext would be that those arrayed against Roosevelt could finally break his political power as well. A strange country, so powerful when aroused, but some within ready to turn upon the best interests of their own country if they saw political gain.

  It was a long shot, as the Americans say, but then again, he had always been a gambler, and had won on more than one “long shot.”

  December 11, 1941

  10:00 hrs Washington time

  15:00 hrs London time

  “I THINK IT is time we told the President the bad news,” Winston Churchill commented to his senior naval aide as he picked up the telephone. “Please get me the President,” he asked his special secure operator.

  Ten minutes later the connection on the secure, highly secret, and primitively scrambled Atlantic cable was completed, and the White House operator could be heard on the other end.

  “Winston,” the enthusiastic patrician voice came pouring across the Atlantic. “It is always good to hear from you even in these difficult days,” FDR charmingly began the conversation.

  “Mr. President, I am afraid I have to add to your burdens,” Churchill responded in a somber, quieter than usual voice. “We have learned that the Japanese apparently caught the Prince of Wales and Repulse without air cover, and we have suffered a catastrophic defeat.”

  The President could not speak for a moment. Only four months ago he had been on the deck of Prince of Wales, off the coast of Newfoundland, for a secret meeting with Winston. He remembered the ship fondly, and well. All those young men, the choir who had sang at the church service, the bright faces filled with pride to be hosting such a meeting. And now? Were any of them still alive?

  He took a brief moment. “Into Thy hands Lord …” he whispered softly, and then braced himself.

  “No number of defeats and catastrophes will weaken the will of the American people.” The President’s voice began gathering energy and determination. “We are furious that the Japanese surprised us at Pearl Harbor and in the Philippines. This massacre will make us even angrier. Your losses are our losses. Your defeats are our defeats. We will go forward together and we will crush those who have violated the laws of civilization.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Churchill replied. “As you know, we are stretched very thin with the German threat here in Europe and now the Japanese attack in the Pacific. We could not cope with both without your magnificent help. The loss of our lone capital ships on the Asian coast leaves us open clear to India, perhaps even to the coast of Africa. You know, my friend, the full implications of that.”

  “The guttersnipe,” Franklin said after a long pause. “He will take advantage of that as well. Any news?”

  Both had been waiting all day for a “Führer announcement” that Berlin Radio had started to trumpet shortly after noon London time. It might be their first public acknowledgment of the setback in the battle before Moscow, but both sensed what it would be… that Germany would declare war on America.

  Compounded with the sharp defeats of the last few days, the President knew it would hit America hard, but aroused as the public was, he knew they would rally even more to the fight ahead.

  “We are going to be distracted by the scale of the Pearl Harbor disaster, which I will brief you on when you visit Washington,” the President replied, not willing to speculate on events in Berlin at this moment. His focus had to be on the here and now. “The defense of the Hawaiian Islands and the Philippines will require us to spend more energy and resources in the Pacific than we had envisioned last August,” Roosevelt added.

  “However, we will continue to emphasize the Atlantic battle with submarines and the resources needed to contain and then defeat Germany in Europe. It will be harder because the anger of the American people is so overwhelmingly focused on the Japanese, but you and I are in total agreement that Hitler is the more dangerous enemy, and we will act accordingly,” the President continued, reassuring Churchill about his greatest fear.

  “For the near future, however, I have to shift some aircraft carriers and other ships into the Pacific to slow down the Japanese onslaught. We are moving ships from the Atlantic to the Pacific to ensure that their empire cannot get to Australia or cut off our supply lines across the South Pacific.”

  “For our part, “Churchill responded, “we will continue to reinforce Malaya and Singapore in the expectation that we can stop the Japanese offensive on land and rebuild our air power as a first step back toward defeating them decisively.”

  “As soon as my military commanders have assessed our resources, I will get back to you about what we can do in the next few weeks,” FDR promised.

  He did not add that a major shakeup was already in the works. Commander in Chief Pacific (CinCPac) would go to Admiral Nimitz, and for the time being would be based out of San D
iego. He had requested, as well, that some key personnel from Pearl be flown back Stateside immediately to confer with Nimitz, and then if need be forwarded on to Washington. He wanted a firsthand report, as quickly as possible, as to what had gone wrong prior to the battles of December 7 through 9.

  Earlier in the day he had been handed a report by Admiral Stark that had gradually worked its way up the chain of command, dated the day before the attack, from an intelligence officer named Watson, warning that Pearl itself might be the target, his assessment based on analysis of signal traffic. He had called for the man’s file and already had plans for what he might be doing next, to make sure more such surprises did not land on their doorstep.

  “I want you to know, Mr. President,” the Prime Minister said, interrupting his thoughts, “that even though we have taken some hard hits in the last few days, I am very confident that we will win through to victory. No dictatorship can withstand the combined fury of the British and American people.”

  “That’s the spirit, my old friend. Eleanor and I look forward to your visit at Christmas. Together we will plot our revenge and our ultimate victory.”

  “Until then, Mr. President,” Churchill replied as he hung up.

  President Roosevelt sat back in his wheelchair, lit a cigarette, and closed his eyes.

  The speech by Hitler would start any minute now, and he knew what it would be, it would be like that guttersnipe to leap on what he assumed was a fallen prey. The Japanese had dealt a deadly blow, far worse than he had first thought after the initial attacks of December 7. More such defeats would undoubtedly follow in the months, perhaps even year to come.

  But the fight had just started, and together with his friend on the other side of the Atlantic, as long as their will was not shaken, surely they would win through to inevitable victory.

  Turn the page and read on for an excerpt from the

  new book by Newt Gingrich and

  William R. Forstchen

  TO TRY MEN’S SOULS