Nimitz gestured him to a chair. “Novacek is responsible for at least two aspects of Operation Wasp. Joe Rochefort worked with him for a short while and thinks highly of him, and the only other recommendation I’ve gotten is from a General Joe Collins, who sent a favorable report on Novacek to General Marshall. Some think Rochefort’s a little crazy, and I have no idea who this Collins person is, although I accept Marshall’s opinion of both him and his reference. Novacek might not be one of Marshall’s Boys, but Collins certainly is, and, if Novacek pulls this off, he might well be one too.”
Jamie stifled a grin. Even on a good day, Rochefort was at least unique, and crazy might not be that far off the mark. However, Rochefort was crazy like a fox. As to Jake becoming one of General Marshall’s favorites, Jamie found himself strangely pleased for someone he hadn’t known at all before December 7.
“Sir, I was very impressed with what little I saw of him,” he said and then explained that he really knew Alexa Sanderson far better. “All I can say is I think that we’re in good hands with Jake Novacek, and I’m very glad that Mrs. Sanderson is as well.”
Nimitz had only a dim recollection of once meeting Tim Sanderson, and none of his widow, although he recalled the name as a result of queries from some congressman. Admirals often had a hard time recalling junior officers with whom they had no contact, and Nimitz was no exception, even though he epitomized courtesy and consideration.
“It’s a strange world, Commander,” he said, “and it’s about to get even stranger in a couple of days, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t want this to fail,” Nimitz said gently. “There may be only a handful of people involved, but they are all human beings and I don’t want anyone to die needlessly. Novacek has control of at least a couple of parts of Operation Wasp, and I like to think he’s up to it.”
“I think he is, sir,” Jamie responded. He thought it both astonishing and in character that Nimitz would be so concerned about people. Once again, he felt honored and proud to serve with the man.
“Well, you get back to your work, and if you can think of anything else about Novacek, you tell me,” the admiral said.
“Sir, may I ask you a question? It may sound impertinent, but it isn’t.”
“Go ahead.”
“The way I see it, sir, there are at least five parts to Wasp, and most of them are supposed to occur around dawn of the second, and with forces approaching from all over the place. Do you really think that can be coordinated?”
Nimitz smiled tightly. “Nope. What we all hope for is that at least a couple of the disparate parts actually do work. You’re right that it’s impossible to time things so well when forces are converging from thousands of miles away from each other and different directions. I can only hope that, as events do unfold, the Japs are kept off balance and confused. That may just give us a level of success.
“As to the five separate events, if one succeeds, then it’s a pinprick to the Japs and we’ll have lost. If two or three are successful, then we’ve won a small victory. Four or five, son, and we may have won the war.”
Admiral Raymond Spruance was fifty-six years old and, not counting time at the Naval Academy, had spent more than thirty of those years as an officer in the navy. During that time, he was acutely aware that he’d never seen combat. Spruance had risen to command as a result of his skills, even though he lacked the flamboyance and apparent belligerence of some of his peers.
Spruance was quiet and unassuming, efficient and unperturbable, and those traits worked for him particularly well in times of stress. He was considered cautious, but that was only because he wished to accomplish his goals with a minimum of human cost. However, Spruance clearly understood that there had to be at least some human cost when engaged in war. Even the most lopsided victory would result in some casualties for the victor. He also understood that too much caution brought other dangers, caused by missed opportunities and letting an enemy take the initiative. Caution, therefore, could be as much a vice as it was a virtue.
“I will call the dance,” he muttered. “I will not become a punching bag.”
“What?”
Spruance grinned at his companion, Captain Marc Mitscher. “Pete” to his friends, Mitscher was a year younger than Spruance but, with his weathered and craggy face, looked decades older.
“I was thinking out loud,” Spruance said, “and mixing metaphors at the same time.” They were in Spruance’s quarters on the carrier Hornet, the flagship of the American task force that was anchored off Samoa. Spruance commanded the fleet, while Mitscher commanded the air arm.
Mitscher grinned. “Don’t let too many people hear you doing that. The men are worried enough as it is without an admiral who talks to himself. Don’t worry about mixing metaphors, though. Most of our pilots think a mixed metaphor is a Mexican drink.”
“What do you think of our orders, Pete?”
He shrugged. “Ours not to reason why?”
They had discussed them numerous times. Spruance was to do battle, but only if the circumstances were right, and he was not to take any undue risks. The navy would make their move only if Operation Wasp was successful.
But how would they know it was successful? What if the Japs located the radio transmitter on Hawaii and knocked it out? What if Wasp was successful and no one could relay the information in a coherent manner?
Wasp was warfare on a shoestring, and every one of the few people involved in it could be killed and the operation still be successful. It would be tragic if his fleet was in the middle ocean awaiting word that would not come in time to use it. An opportunity bought with American blood would be lost because he would not permit “undue risk.”
“What would happen if we lost this battle?” Spruance asked.
“I don’t think about defeat.”
“I forgot,” Spruance said drily. “But indulge me. What would happen if this fleet were destroyed?”
“We’d replace it and the navy would replace us. Hell, we’ve got more than a dozen fleet carriers under construction right now, and it hurts my head to think of how many battleships, cruisers, and destroyers we’ll have in another year or so. It’d be tough, but we’ve the resources to make good any losses.”
“So I’m not Jellicoe, am I?”
Admiral John Rushworth Jellicoe had commanded the Royal Navy at Jutland in the previous war and was the subject of many naval studies. Jutland was the largest naval battle in world history to date, but Jellicoe had been acutely aware that Britain had no backup fleet and defeat by the Germans would turn the oceans over to their mortal enemy. Britain would then be blockaded and starved. Britain would have to sue for peace.
Jellicoe knew that he alone could lose the war in a single afternoon. Britain could not make good on her losses; thus, Jellicoe had been quite content to let the Germans return to their bases after an inconclusive battle.
“You’re right, Admiral,” Mitscher said softly, “you’re not Jellicoe. If anybody’s in that position, it’d be Yamamoto. He’s got just about all the navy Japan has and just about all she’ll ever have. Japan cannot replace her losses in any significant manner.”
“So why are we being so cautious, and how would you now define undue risk?”
Mitscher grinned. “I’d define it a lot more loosely than some people.”
Without putting it in so many words, their orders strongly implied that the American task force should not even begin to move northward unless Operation Wasp was successful. Even under the best of circumstances, that meant the Americans could not arrive within range of Oahu for two to three days after the critical morning of August 2.
“I think we should give ourselves a head start,” Spruance said. “I think we should be ready to pounce on them as soon as we can. If Wasp works, I don’t want the Japs to have a couple of days to solve their problems. I want to hit them hard and fast, and before they know what’s happening to them.”