When the American warship finally sank and efforts were being made to recover survivors, a periscope had been reported, which caused all the ships to flee the area in haste. American torpedoes might be inconsistent, but no one wanted to test them. When the facts were in, it appeared that the “periscope” had been nothing more than floating debris. The captain of the Yamato had reported the possibility of other American survivors in the area but assured Yamamoto that he had shelled them and that they must all be dead.
Admiral Yamamoto was not totally confident. Nor was he thrilled when an officer on the Yamato misunderstood his directive that all efforts be taken to ensure that the existence of the great ship remain secret. As a result, he had taken it on himself to execute all seventy-odd survivors from the Pennsylvania who had been taken aboard before the periscope fiasco. The young officers who’d carried out the deed were fanatical believers in the code of bushido and felt that anyone who surrendered, regardless of the circumstances, was beneath contempt and unworthy of being allowed to live.
In a scathing tongue-lashing, Yamamoto had reminded them that the rest of the world would consider their actions war crimes and be a possible hindrance in negotiating peace with the United States if the story got out. He did not think he’d converted the officers, and, not for the first time, Yamamoto concluded that rigid adherence to bushido would spell doom for the Japanese Empire.
The admiral conceded that the giant ship might yet be seen by a sub or a patrol plane, but he was confident that any sightings would be inconclusive, and that the immense strength of the Yamato would remain cloaked until her fury could be unleashed against an unsuspecting American relief force.
The Americans had not reacted to the landings on Molokai, which had surprised him, but they had to send a battle force to try to save Oahu. It was inconceivable that the United States would permit 400,000 of her people to be conquered, even if a third of them were Japanese. In order that the invasion portion of his fleet be detected in advance, he had ordered the normal flow of radio transmissions to occur and even concurred in the sending of some messages in the clear that would ordinarily have been encoded.
He checked his watch. Off in the distance, the predawn bombardment would be just beginning. In only a few hours, Japanese soldiers and marines would commence landing on the northern beaches of Oahu. With more than a hundred planes on Molokai and the planes of four supporting carriers, the Japanese air forces would smother the Americans.
“Now,” he muttered, “if only their fleet would come.”
CHAPTER 9
Jamie Priest found it difficult to wear a regulation uniform. The multitude of sores on his body, along with a gash on his back that he’d gotten from a piece of metal, caused him to wince every time something rubbed against his raw flesh. He was also still gaunt and haggard from his time in the water, and his head had been shaved in order to treat other cuts and sores.
“Lieutenant, you look like hell,” Admiral Nimitz said in a gentle, joking voice. Beside him, Admiral Spruance smiled.
“Thank you, sir. I have to admit it’s pretty much the way I feel.”
“You were very fortunate,” Spruance said. “The boys in that PBY had just about given up and were going to head for home when they spotted you. No one had any idea you would have drifted that far to the east.”
Well, Jamie thought, so much for our sense of navigation. “What about the others, sir? No one seems to know.”
“Son,” said Nimitz, “you were the only survivor in that cluster of debris.”
Jamie’s eyes filled with tears and his voice broke. “I’m sorry, sir. I tried so hard to help them.”
“We know you did,” said Spruance. “Maybe you survived for a reason. Now, show us the pictures and tell us how you got them.”
Jamie took a deep breath and got a grip on his emotions. In a plain manila envelope were the developed photos that Seaman Fiorini had taken. The navy had enlarged them to eight by ten, and the developing unit held the negatives. Other copies were en route to Washington. Fiorini would have been pleased.
“Spread them on my desk,” Nimitz said eagerly.
Jamie passed one of the glossies to Nimitz. “Admiral, only two are truly significant, and this one may be the most important. It proves that the Japanese ship fired eighteen-inch shells.”
The enlarged picture was somewhat grainy, but it clearly showed Jamie holding a measuring tape against the base of a gigantic shell. The unit indicators were clearly visible on the tape.
“Good Lord,” Nimitz muttered.
Jamie passed another across. “And this, sir, is the second most important. At the time Seaman Fiorini took this, the Jap was damned near alongside the hulk of the Pennsylvania. Even though the Jap is slightly farther away, you can see the enormous size differential.”
“Unbelievable,” said Spruance. “Like an adult among small children. That Jap battlewagon is twice the size of the Pennsylvania.”
“At least that much, sir,” Jamie added. “The pictures don’t give a true indication of perspective. Sir, may I ask who the Jap is?”
Spruance looked at Nimitz, who shrugged for him to go ahead. “Lieutenant, the ship must be their new battlewagon, the Yamato. We’d heard rumors that she was nearly finished and that she was big. What we didn’t know was how big. We thought she’d be in the same league as our North Carolina and Washington, at about 37,000 tons, and carry sixteen-inch guns. The Pennsylvania displaced 33,000 tons, and this beast must go sixty-five or seventy thousand.”
“And carry eighteen-inchers,” Nimitz added, still almost disbelievingly. The proportional difference in strength and weight of shell went far beyond the two inches in size.
Spruance shook his head. “Our engineers recently concluded that an eighteen-inch gun was years away in development, and that the Japs would have difficulty doing anything better than fourteens. God, they’ve euchred us again.”
Nimitz stood up and paced his small office. “This also means that we must dismiss any thoughts of using our battleships in duels with theirs. The North Carolina and Washington are en route to Pacific waters, but they’re not going to get even close to that monster unless the odds are overwhelmingly in our advantage.” He turned to Spruance. “Ray, all this does is confirm that we’re going to have to win this war with carriers and subs, not battleships.”
“Even if we had any battleships, we wouldn’t use them,” Spruance grumbled.
The South Dakota, a more modern version of the Washington and North Carolina, was finishing her shakedown training, but that was it. The Alabama would be launched shortly, but would not be ready until late in the year. The others in the class, the Indiana and Massachusetts, would be launched in 1942 but would not be ready until the next year. Not counting the old battlewagons in California waters, the United States would have three battleships in the Pacific.
These ships, however, were all in the 37,000-ton class. The 45,000-ton Iowa was scheduled for launch in late summer but would not be available for duty until mid-1943. Even if she were available, the Iowa would be seriously outgunned by the Yamato.
“No battleships and no carriers,” said Nimitz. “All of that means no relief for Hawaii or the Philippines.”
“Sir,” said Jamie, “are the islands going to be invaded?”
“It could happen at any time,” Nimitz answered. Both he and Spruance knew it was about to occur as they spoke, but Lieutenant Priest had not been cleared for Magic information.