The Americans were certain they’d sunk one Japanese carrier and damaged two others. More important, they’d stopped Japan’s thrust toward Australia. Nimitz and Spruance were satisfied with the outcome, although it meant that the United States in the Pacific was almost as totally out of carriers as it was of battleships.
“All right.” King sighed, his anger spent. “What do you need?”
Nimitz answered. “Hornet and Enterprise are all we’ll have available for the next round. I want more carriers. All of them.”
King snorted. “You don’t want much, do you? Roosevelt wants them in the Atlantic when we invade German-controlled North Africa in November, and I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we succeed. As much as I opposed it, North Africa’s a go, and a defeat there would knock us back a long ways.”
Nimitz and Spruance had long heard the rumors that an attack was pending, and now it was confirmed. It meant that they had only a small window of opportunity for action in 1942, but, if that was what FDR wanted, that was what the president would get.
Nimitz pressed that point, and King took a deep breath. “All right. You get Saratoga, Wasp, and Ranger, but on one condition. They must not be unduly risked, and they must be returned to the Atlantic theater by mid-September.”
“They won’t be risked,” Spruance said. “No carrier will move against the Japanese unless the pinpricks we’re devising actually work.”
King was far from convinced. “You think they can?”
Nimitz answered. “I’m reminded of a story I read about a wasp or hornet, or maybe even a bee, getting inside a moving car with four people in it. When everyone tried to swat the pesky little insect, the car lost control and crashed. All four were killed and the wasp flew away. In fact,” he said with a slight smile, “I’ve just decided to rename this pinprick Operation Wasp. It fits marvelously and sounds better than Operation Cork.”
“I just hope you’re right,” King said. “At least it does look like the Japs will be coming to Hawaii.”
Listening stations in the United States had decoded diplomatic messages to the effect that the annexation of Hawaii was going to occur in midsummer. It stood to reason that the Japanese would make it an impressive show, and that meant the presence of a sizable portion of their fleet.
“At the very least,” Nimitz continued, “we should be able to embarrass them with a raid on the fuel tanks. At the best, we might actually do great damage. But rest assured, our carriers will not move unless there is an excellent opportunity for success. If there is little or no chance, our fleet will not move from Samoan waters. At the worst, we will have sacrificed nothing more than a few dozen brave men, but it will not be a catastrophe. With a little bit of luck, we could hide the fact of the loss for years.”
Nimitz didn’t like having to make that last statement, but he understood the realities. Failure was an orphan, and the United States couldn’t afford to have another debacle like Pearl Harbor.
“Do I know everything I should about this venture?” King asked.
Spruance chuckled. “Hell, we’re still making it up as we go along.”
Nimitz’s eyes twinkled. “Thanks for the carriers, Ernie; now, what about escorts? Same terms as with the carriers. We’ll get them back to you in September and we won’t risk them.”
“What do you want?”
“Battleships, Ernie. I want the North Carolina, Washington, South Dakota, and Indiana. You know that the Japs will show up with at least the Yamato to go along with their carriers. They didn’t build that monster to put her in storage. If she’s there, I want revenge for the Pennsylvania. No, we’re not going to set up a duel. I just want surface protection for the carriers that’ll pack a wallop if we need it.”
A task force built around five carriers and four battleships would be a powerful one, but still much weaker than what the Japanese could put against them. It would also be much smaller than the fleet the United States had under construction and would have afloat in a year or two if they wished to wait that long. They didn’t.
“The Indiana won’t be ready by then,” King said and ventured a small smile. “Maybe I can do something else for you.”
Colonel Omori sat in the back of his car as it rolled slowly down the almost deserted streets of Hilo. The few people who remained were that handful of Hawaiians and Japanese who were sympathetic to the Japanese cause, or who pretended to be that way. Omori trusted none of them. The rest, the majority, had gone inland to the other villages and hamlets to escape the possibility of yet another massacre. Omori gestured, and the driver stopped quickly. The colonel got out, and Lieutenant Goto, who’d been in the front seat, quickly stepped alongside him.
Omori looked toward the mountains that glared down on Hilo. The colonel could almost feel enemy eyes on them. If the Americans ever got artillery on the hills, they could pound the small Japanese garrison into little pieces. The two Japanese destroyers at anchor in Hilo Bay gave him some comfort. Their four-inch guns would return fire at anyone who chose to insult Japan.
At least for now they would, which made it all the more imperative that the Americans be rooted out. The size of the island and the difficult terrain-forested and nearly jungle on the Hilo side, barren and craggy on the other side-meant it would be impossible to find the Americans without help.
Omori scuffed idly at a pebble with his boot. He fully understood the difficulty Goto was having in finding the Americans. “And your Mr. Finch, has he produced?”
Goto shrugged. “He’s disappeared into the interior, and we believe he’s in contact with the Americans. What he’s found out, we won’t know until he gets back to us.”
“The American presence is as big an insult as is this abandoned town,” Omori said with a touch of petulance. “Tell me, are the Americans here capable of doing anything to disrupt the coming arrival of the fleet?”
“Then it’s true?”
“Indeed. Yamamoto will personally command a major force that will arrive in late July. They will bring with them an official proclamation declaring the Hawaiian Islands to be part of Japan. Now, what can the Americans do about it?”
Goto pondered a moment. “When will the navy’s arrival be announced?”
“When the fleet arrives, and not sooner.” Omori did not need to add that, after that, the entire world would know.
“Then the Americans will be helpless. They might try something childish to embarrass us here, but they have no military capability that would hurt us.”
This was Omori’s assessment as well. Yet he was not totally comfortable with the almost cavalier dismissal of the American guerrillas. The fact that they survived, perhaps even thrived, pointed to a sophisticated organizational and support structure. They should not be taken lightly.
A part of him recalled that, somehow, Alexa Sanderson had been spirited away. Omori was confident that she was with the Americans in the hills of the Big Island. When he found her, she would be turned over to Goto, and, when that sadist was through, the rest of the army could have her. She had caused him embarrassment and aggravation beyond her usefulness. More important, her presence on the island meant that she’d had help on Oahu. The Americans had to be destroyed.