“You still have that apartment in Waikiki?” Susie asked. When he nodded, she said, “Why don’t you come to my place instead? It’s a lot closer.”
“Okay.” Oscar was nothing if not agreeable.
He was so agreeable, Susie made another face at him. “Listen, buster,” she said, “do you know how many guys would give their left one for an invite like that? Do you?” She sounded half joking, half belligerent.
“Probably a bunch,” Oscar answered. “If they start beating down the door, can I go out the window?”
“You’re a terrible man.” Susie Higgins scowled. “Come on, before I change my mind like you deserve.”
Her apartment was roomier than his, and likely more expensive, too. He wondered in what coin she was paying for it, but then shook his head. Whatever she was, she wasn’t a pro. And she was getting by, where plenty of people who’d been here a lot longer were having all sorts of trouble.
As soon as she closed the door behind her, she pulled the sun dress off over her head. “We had fun, didn’t we?” she repeated.
Oscar caught her to him. “Sure,” he said… agreeably.
CAPTAIN KIICHI HASEGAWA glowered at Commander Minoru Genda. “The Army is being very difficult,” complained the senior naval officer in Hawaii.
“Yes, sir,” Genda said-usually a safe answer when a superior was fuming.
“Here in my own quarters on Akagi, I can tell you what I really think of those people,” Hasegawa said. “You won’t run off at the mouth.”
“No, sir,” Genda said. That was also safe when it turned out to be agreement.
Hasegawa reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He rummaged a little more and came up with two glasses. He poured a knock for himself and another for Genda, sliding the second across the desk. “Kampai! ” he said.
Genda echoed the toast. The whiskey glided smoothly down his throat and started a small fire in his belly. “What can you do, sir?” he asked.
“I can’t do a damned thing,” Hasegawa answered. “General Yamashita outranks me. He’s stubborn as an ox, and not much smarter.”
“Sir”-now Genda spoke with considerable urgency-“the Army and the Navy have to get along here. We need both services to defend the island, and each needs to know what it must do and what the other will do.”
“Yes, yes.” Hasegawa said it, but he didn’t mean it.
Sensing as much, Genda spoke more urgently stilclass="underline" “The Americans divided responsibility here, too. They didn’t do a very good job of it. That’s one reason these islands are ours now. Do you want to imitate them?”
With that, he did get Captain Hasegawa’s attention. Hasegawa took a meditative sip from his drink and then said, “At least the Americans had the sense to make a Navy man the senior officer in the islands.”
So that’s what’s eating you, Genda thought. Aloud, he said, “Nobody here can do anything about that, sir. The only people who can change the command setup are in Tokyo.”
“Don’t I know it!” Hasegawa said bitterly. “They don’t want to listen to me. They especially don’t want to listen to me after the Yankee bombers raided us. All they want to do is bring in more soldiers and more Army airplanes. As if we didn’t have to drag the Army to Hawaii kicking and screaming!” He gulped down the whiskey and poured himself another healthy dose.
Trying to put the best face he could on it, Genda said, “Now the Army understands how important it was to seize these islands.”
“Maybe,” Hasegawa said. “Then again, maybe not, too. The Army just has to say, ‘Take this and that from Japan to Honolulu.’ The Army just has to say it. The Navy has to do it. And once the men and the airplanes get here, does the Army worry about the food and fuel we have to haul in to keep everything the way it’s supposed to be? Not likely! The Army seemed to think we can bring in everything easy as you please.”
“I’ve been keeping track of the food situation, sir,” Genda said. “It’s not quite as bad as it was right after the surrender.”
“Yes, I know that,” Hasegawa agreed. “Things can hardly help growing here. That will take care of itself once we clear the land that was planted with sugarcane and pineapple and turn it over to rice and other real crops, crops people can eat. But you can’t plant gasoline bushes, dammit.”
Genda had been keeping track of that, too. Genda kept track of everything he could; it was part of his nature. When he said, “We have… enough,” he put things in the best light he could.
“We have enough to go from one routine day to the next, yes,” Hasegawa said. “Do we have enough if we really have to fight? I don’t have much good to say about the Yankees. We licked them just the way we should have. But they will never lose because they run short of things. Can we say the same?”
Genda wished Japan could. He knew she couldn’t. That was what this war was about: getting the Japanese Empire the oil and the rubber and the tin-the things — it needed to stay a great power. He said, “Once we win, we will be able to say that. It will be true then.”
“Then, yes. Now?” Hasegawa rolled his eyes. “The Prime Minister can afford to worry about then. I have to worry about now. I know I am only an ignorant sea captain, but the way it looks to me is, if now isn’t the way we want it, then won’t be, either.”
It looked the same way to Genda. He said so, adding, “If we didn’t have to keep bringing in more soldiers and more Army airplanes, we could bring in more supplies for what’s already here instead. That would serve us better in the long run.”
“We should be able to do both, neh? ” Hasegawa said.
“Yes, we should.” Genda let it go at that. He knew-as Hasegawa undoubtedly did, too-the Japanese didn’t have enough shipping capacity to let them bring in reinforcements and fully supply them, too. “If we could make sure American submarines didn’t trouble us…”
Hasegawa looked as unhappy as Genda felt. The first time a U.S. sub sank a Japanese freighter, it had been news, a chance to complain about America’s inhumanity. It had happened several times since then, and Japan hadn’t said a word. Acknowledging each sinking would have been the same as admitting the shoe was starting to pinch. American bombers from the mainland couldn’t bother Hawaii. American submarines setting out from the West Coast had no trouble at all.
“The Army has complained that we don’t stop all submarines before they make trouble for us,” Hasegawa said.
“Let the Army try it! Good luck to them!” Genda burst out. “We do what we can. We use convoys. We zigzag. We escort with destroyers. We use all the tricks we learned in the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean in the last war.”
“Yes, I know,” Hasegawa said unhappily. “They aren’t always enough.”
“That’s because we’re finding out what kind of tricks the Americans learned then-and since,” Genda added.
Captain Hasegawa sent him a sour stare. “Commander, this operation is more your brainchild than anyone else’s-and that includes Admiral Yamamoto. We did everything we had to do to take these islands. Frankly, we did more than I thought we could do. Why can’t you be contented now?”
“Two reasons, sir,” Genda answered. “The first is, I hoped losing Hawaii would knock all the spirit out of the Americans and knock them clean out of the war before it really got started. We can see that hasn’t happened. They’re still fighting. They haven’t figured out what they want to do and how they want to do it yet, and we have to hope they will take a long time before they do. That leads me to the second worry. Taking these islands was one sort of problem. Holding them is a very different one.”
“Oh, yes,” Hasegawa said in a voice like iron. “Oh, yes. Holding Hawaii is the reason we have to put up with these Army bumpkins.”