Pearl Harbour and Days of Infamy

by Newt Gingrich

  Halsey was able to relax for a moment, while down on the deck a mad scramble now ensued as the deck crews for each of the forty-two planes preparing for launch spotted them into position, engines roaring. In the darkness another man died, though none of his comrades knew of his fate until a half hour later, when someone noticed that the red-headed kid, nicknamed Red of course, seaman second class and a new transfer onto the Enterprise only three weeks before, was missing. By that time he was already dead, blown off the aft end of the deck by the prop wash of a Devastator as it revved up to full power for a magneto check. Unable to swim, and without a life jacket, his fate had been mercifully swift, unlike the fate so many of his comrades would face this day

  Akagi, 165 miles west-northwest of Oahu 05:25 hrs local time

  Bleary-eyed, Fuchida could not keep away, even though he had been specifically ordered by Yamamoto himself to stand down from operations this day. He had slipped out onto the main deck, out of sight of his admiral, to watch as the first of the scout planes was launched

  From each of the four carriers in the task group, five planes were going aloft, spreading outward like fingers or the tentacles of a squid, in an arc from north around to southwest, each plane to run out two hundred fifty miles, turn ninety degrees to port for fifteen minutes, then do a reverse track back in, the process to continue throughout the day until the enemy carriers had been spotted

  A visit to the pilot ready room, though, had revealed to him what had transpired while he had sweated through his nightmares, haunted by his friend Matsuo, drenched in flames, slumped in front of him as the rescue crew had dragged him screaming and protesting out of the wrecked Kate

  He finally heard that Hiei was crippled, slowly heading away from Oahu. Soryu and Hiryu, detached and with but two escorting destroyers, soon to be joined by the battleship Kirishima, were deployed to the southwest of Oahu, ready to provide air cover for the cripple, while the rest of the task force was here, northwest of Oahu, searching westward for the Americans

  It was a risky plan. If Hiei had not been crippled, the entire task force was to have rejoined by midday, all six carriers in mutual support of each other. As it was now, their planes could overlap each other above Hiei, but if the three missing American carriers were together, and struck either group, the risk could be grave. It all depended upon who found whom first

  The five scout planes took off, banking out to the north to northwest, disappearing into the night, while the aft elevator team was already at work, bringing up the dozen Zeroes that would provide combat air patrol over the fleet. Down on the hangar deck, the Kates and Vals that could still fly after yesterday’s hard fighting were even now loading up with ordnance for when the Americans were found

  Inwardly he prayed they were not found today. Yamamoto’s orders had been strict. The hero of the third strike on Pearl Harbor was to rest today. So, like his friend Genda, he would be stuck on the deck, watching as others flew off to glory

  It would be, he feared, a long, frustrating day ahead

  Pearl Harbor 05:55 hrs local time

  “This Is X-ray Delta. This is X-ray Delta. Hickam or Ford, do you read?”

  James Watson came over to stand behind the civilian ham radio operator who carefully adjusted the dial, bringing the signal in more clearly on the small speaker

  “That’s a carrier scout plane frequency,” a petty officer announced. “It’s gotta be Enterprise.”

  The airwave they were on crackled and hissed, but there was no response. Watson looked over at Collingwood, the senior officer in the room

  “Hickam must have some radio on line by now,” Collingwood whispered. “They can’t be completely shut down.”

  “A lot of incoming was impacting around there,” a young naval ensign, the left side of his face bandaged from a burn, replied, slurring his words a bit

  “This is X-ray Delta. This is X-ray Delta . . . Hickam or Ford, do you read?”

  The voice was more insistent now, but still no response. More eyes were turning to Collingwood

  “We might be the only radio station up and running,” James whispered to him

  “What about a radio on any of our planes?” someone asked

  “What planes?” the ensign replied coldly. “I was over at Hickam just before the battleships hit us. They most likely blew what was left to hell.”

  “This is X-ray Delta. This is X-ray Delta ...” A pause. “Damn it, does anyone read me over there?”

  “Give me the mike,” Collingwood said. The civilian operator motioned for him to sit down by his side and slid it over

  “X-ray Delta.” Collingwood paused. “This is Pearl. Come in.”

  A pause

  “This is X-ray Delta, stay off the air, Pearl, I’m raising Hickam or Ford.”

  Collingwood sighed. What did he dare to say in the clear? “This is all you got, X-ray Delta. Repeat, this is all you got.”

  “How the hell do I know you’re not a Jap? Give proper code identification.”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake,” Collingwood muttered, mike still switched on

  James said nothing. Is this what they’ve reduced us to, he wondered? Were Hickam, Ford Island, Wheeler, Kaneohe, Ewa, and all the naval and army airbases offline now? If so, just how in hell do we coordinate any kind of response?

  James leaned over Collingwood’s shoulder and with his one hand pressed the transmit

  “X-ray Delta, this is Pearl. Name your favorite club and I’ll tell you where it is.”

  He felt damn foolish but could think of no alternative

  “Screw you, you gotta be kidding.”

  “I’m not kidding, X-ray Delta.”

  Again a pause

  “Delia’s.”

  James stood back up and looked around the room, which was now illuminated by the early light of dawn, blackout curtains drawn back from the shattered window frames

  “All right, do any of you know where the hell that is? If not, we’re screwed trying to coordinate with Enterprise.’“

  “Yeah, Delia’s,” a petty officer growled, unlit cigar clenched between his teeth

  He went up to Collingwood’s side and pressed the transmit key

  “Yeah, kid, it’s on Wahela Street and supposedly off limits to all military personnel. You’ll get a dose for sure if you go in there. How the hell do you know about it?”

  Another pause

  “OK, Pearl, this is X-ray Delta inbound. What trade do you have for me?” and James felt he could detect a slight chuckle in the reply

  What any of them knew was sketchy. All command structure had broken down in this mad night of confusion. Rumors were still floating that the Japs were landing at Kaneohe

  There was a moment of silence from the dozens pressed into the radio repair shack

  “Exactly what do we know?” Collingwood finally asked, looking around. “I don’t want rumors, I want hard facts.”

  “That Jap battleship was definitely hit,” the ensign replied. “We know that, and it was retiring westward.”

  “We got the shit kicked out of us,” the petty officer snapped bitterly. “That’s about it as far as any of us know.”

  Collingwood nodded to the petty officer

  “You got his trust, tell him.”

  The petty officer pressed down on the transmit button

  “Listen, kid. We got hit hard by two Jap battleships during the night. We know one of them got clobbered in return and is limping off to the west of the island. You should be able to spot him. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Any fix on their flattops?”

  The petty officer looked over at Collingwood and James

  Sure, they had pretty well figured the strike had come from the north, though no one, as far as he knew, had gotten that information out. In twelve hours, steaming at twenty knots, they could be anywhere inside a circle nearly five hundred nautical miles across, over two hundred thousand square miles of ocean to choose from

  Both shook their
heads. If X-ray Delta was indeed flying from the Enterprise, Halsey’s guess as to where to search was more likely a damn sight better than anything they could provide. It was frustrating beyond belief. There still must be a few dozen planes capable of flying this morning, and dozens of civilian planes tucked into the small private strips around the island. Someone had wandered in reporting that several of the surviving B-17s, now up at Wheeler, were getting set to try and hit the battleship

  “Repeat, any fix on their flattops?”

  The petty officer pressed down on the send button

  “You got the same coordinates we do,” the petty officer replied

  Another pause

  “Good reply,” Collingwood whispered. “The Japs have got to be listening,” and as if in response, a shrieking warble suddenly overrode the frequency. The Japs had listened long enough and were now attempting to jam

  “Right, Pearl.” The reply was hard to pick up over the jamming, but still came through, which meant the search plane must be fairly close

  “Will relay. Over.”

  Collingwood sighed, leaned back in his chair. “Sir, a suggestion.”

  It was the civilian operator, and James realized he didn’t even know the man’s name

  “It looks like nearly all communications are up the creek without a paddle. I own a radio repair shop in town and I’m president of the ham radio club which meets there. Get me some official-looking paperwork and a truck. I’ll round some guys up with their radios, clean out the gear in my shop, and maybe we can get something running. I’m willing to bet everything has pretty well been knocked to hell if that kid can’t raise anyone but us.”

  James said nothing. The man who was talking was obviously Japanese

  Collingwood looked up at James as if reading his mind. If this guy tried to get on any base unescorted now, he’d most likely be shot. How the hell he had even managed to get here was a mystery. He had just pulled in and offloaded his rig out of the back of a small Model A truck marked Joe’s Radio Repair, Free Delivery, and toted in the gear they were now using

  The truck, riddled from a nearby hit, was sitting outside the door, all four tires flat, a puddle of rusty water underneath from the blown-out radiator

  “Hey, Dianne,” James asked. “Can you dig me up some CinCPac stationery?”

  The exhausted woman was half asleep under one of the repair tables. She looked out at him with bleary eyes

  “You gotta be kidding sir. The building is gone.” She sighed

  “There must be paper strewn from one end of the base to the other,” James replied

  “Find some,” Collingwood ordered. “Commander Watson’s on to something. Forge a signature, any signature, otherwise this guy and his friends won’t get anywhere. Round up some guards for them, preferably some marines, to provide escort, and those of you standing around here doing nothing, go with our friend here. I want radios up and running at every base on this island by midmorning. We know Enterprise is out there, Lexington too. We’ve got to get communications running again. Now move.”

  James, glad for any kind of order, something to do, looked around the room, made eye contact with half a dozen radio techs, and motioned for them to follow. Joe, the cigar-chomping petty officer, and Dianne fell in with the group

  Akagi, 06:00 hrs local time

  Admiral Yamamoto looked at the transcript handed to him, the conversation monitored between an American scout plane and a radio on Pearl

  It spoke volumes to him. They had no idea where he was, otherwise there would have been some indication; the mere fact that the question was asked, rather than coordinates communicated, revealed that. Also, it meant that whatever damage the air strikes had rendered, the battleships had done their job well. All communications, and therefore coordination between land and their ships at sea, were either severed or tenuous at best

  And it told him, as well, that at least one of their carriers must be nearby

  The game was on

  Scout plane X-ray Delta Twenty miles south of Oahu 06:00 hrs

  “This is X-ray Delta. Got ‘em! Oil slick ten miles off the coast south of the island, turning to heading 270 to follow!”

  Lieutenant Nathan King gave a slight nudge of his stick to port, his Dauntless slipped into a ten-degree bank, and less than a minute later he saw it! Battleship, it had to be their crippled battleship, six, maybe eight miles ahead, oil slick leading straight to it. The ship appeared to be under tow

  God damn, it was a sitting duck!

  “This is X-ray Delta! Jap battleship, estimated twenty miles southwest Oahu. Can’t miss her, it’s bleeding oil like crazy. Am closing.”

  “Sir, we going for it?”

  King picked up his intercom mike, connected to his tail gunner

  “You got any better ideas? It’s begging to be hit! We unload on her then circle till the strike group comes up.”

  “Sir, what about continuing to look for their flattops?”

  King hesitated. The darn kid was right. The admiral had made it a point: They were out here for the carriers, the battleship could wait. But damn it, the flattops were most likely hundreds of miles off, in someone else’s sector. The Japs would be insane to have them playing nursemaid to a crippled ship this close in to shore

  He was closing at two and a half miles a minute at ten thousand feet. Punch a bomb into this bastard, maybe finish her, and then just spot their planes coming in and relay the reciprocal bearing back to Enterprise. He’d lead the way for the strike against the carriers and have a battleship to his credit as well. Hell, that would make the admiral happy and a damn hero as well, with the first big kill of the war

  Half a dozen black puffs ignited in the air, far short, a mile ahead of him, first ranging shots of their heavy antiaircraft. He could even see their five-inchers winking

  Pull away, wait for the rest of the strike wave?

  Hell, they might be getting vectored even now onto the carriers in another section

  “We’re taking her,” King announced, sliding his canopy shut, pulling down his goggles. Feeding in full throttle he started to climb, wanting to get up to fifteen thousand feet before rolling into a dive. It’d throw their gunners off as well

  “We got Japs! Four of them coming down. Break right! Break right!”

  King pushed his stick hard over to starboard even as he nosed up. Looking back over his shoulder he saw them coming out of the southwest, the direction he was supposed to turn and search along, before finally heading back to Enterprise. How the hell did they get here ahead of us? We were told we’d be on it first!

  Damn, were their carriers off that way?

  He didn’t even have time to make a call. Within a few seconds he was flying full out, skidding with opposite rudder and stick, nearly going into a stall, the low speed causing the first two Japanese fighters to overshoot and scream past while gunner’s mate Gary Olson, in the aft seat, fired back with the single, pitiful .30 machine gun, the only protection the Dauntless had. What kind of fighters were these? They were not the old Jap 96 models they had been briefed on. What the hell are they?

  “I’m jumped by four Jap fighters,” he managed to get out, then dropped the mike

  There was no time to line up in a classic dive. He pushed over, heading in at a forty-five-degree bank for the Hiei. The enemy fighters circled back around for the kill

  Hiei, 06:02 hrs

  It was over before it had even really started. The lone American plane had barely got into range of his five-inch gunners when it detonated into flame, rolled over, and went down

  There was cheering on the bridge, but Captain Nagita said nothing

  Two things had been revealed. One was patently obvious. The Americans knew where he was; they had monitored the scout plane report. It was no surprise; the oil slick from their bleeding wound would lead them in to him all day until finally someone broke through

  But it had revealed as well to the Americans that he was being protected by carrier p
lanes and at least one of their carriers was in range

  The battle was now on

  Chapter Four

  Enterprise, 130 miles south of Oahu Decembers, 1941 06:03 hrs local time

  “X-ray Delta, this is Phoenix. X-ray Delta, this is Phoenix, come in.”

  “He’s gone,” Halsey said quietly, the petty officer operating the radio looking back at his admiral and nodding in agreement. McCloskey, standing to one side, gave a nod of agreement as well

  They had broken radio silence long enough. He didn’t want to risk another minute on the air and perhaps give the Japs a better chance at getting a bearing on him. With the appearance of his scout planes, they now knew he was out here. That was all he wanted to give away, and calling a plane that was most likely down was far too dangerous

  From outside he could hear the roar of the last of his planes launching, the slow, lumbering Devastators. The fighter and dive bomber squadrons were now aloft. Groups formed up, circling at five thousand feet while their slower comrades took wing

  He looked back to his other radio operators. One radio was assigned to each of the four search planes. Operators shook their heads, protocol accepting that at such a crucial moment, the men didn’t need to take their eyes off their instruments or speak

  He looked back to the plot board. If search plane X-ray Delta was off the chart--and even as he contemplated that, a seaman with a grease pencil put a question mark next to the symbol of the plane at its last reported position--then one whole leg of a return sweep would be lost

  His strike force, now airborne, was heading almost due north, toward the reported position of the crippled Jap battleship, his assumption being that by the time they reached it, the search would reveal their flattops, one of which definitely had to be shadowing the enemy cripple. The appearance of the enemy planes confirmed that . . but where the hell were they?

  And just as frustrating, he had listened in to the conversation between X-ray Delta and Pearl. My God, if all radio communications were down at every airbase on the island, how did they coordinate? He had hoped that by now someone over there would be doing their job right, and have the Jap carriers pinpointed to vector them in