Nimitz rubbed his eyes. It was another unexpected problem. “How many shiploads do you need?”
“Maybe fifty a month, depending on the size,” Short said. “More, of course, if the place is going to be reinforced. More construction workers and more soldiers mean more mouths to feed. It’s just that simple, gentlemen. And don’t forget that everything from razor blades to toilet paper has to come from the mainland. Counting military personnel, there are about half a million people who need the navy to keep them fed, clothed, and their asses wiped.”
Nimitz accepted the obvious. Precious resources would have to be allocated to feed and sustain the military and civilian population of the islands.
Short managed a tight smile. “Contrary to what’s being said about me, I am taking steps to alleviate the situation. As military governor, I am ordering the confiscation of all foodstuffs from stores and warehouses, and will institute a food rationing program within a couple of days. We’ll stretch what we have for as long as we can, but the civilians aren’t going to like it one bit. For one thing, I am going to give priority to my soldiers and the men working to repair the facilities.”
“I understand,” Nimitz said. “We’ll do what we can.”
“I’m also gathering all the gas and oil I can to keep my trucks and what planes I have left operational. We’ll be rationing civilian gas, and a lot of people are going to be walking or riding bikes. Without shipping, these islands are a goddamned mess. Look, I can’t even replace the planes I’ve lost without ships. Not a fighter in my air force or your navy has the range to fly from California to here. They all have to be ferried, along with the fuel to get them in the air when they finally do get here.”
With that, an angry Short left as abruptly as he had arrived.
“Now what?” Halsey asked. He still strained to go after the Japanese, although he would have loved to have vented his frustrations on General Short.
When Nimitz responded, it was in a voice filled with gloom. “You will take the Lexington and Enterprise to Australia.”
“Australia?” Halsey was incredulous. “The Japs are coming here!”
“You’re probably right.”
Nimitz knew that Halsey was more than right. As a recipient of Magic information that was denied Halsey, Nimitz had been told of troop movements in and around Japan, as well as another gathering of the Japanese fleet. Logic said that Hawaii was a possible destination. Under the circumstances, Nimitz had reluctantly concluded that the situation in the islands was temporarily hopeless.
“Oh my God,” Halsey said. “You’re abandoning Pearl, aren’t you?”
“Not entirely. But I cannot justify attempting to defend the place at this time. If the Japs don’t come and the repairs are made, we can return just as quickly as we left. The remainder of the fleet will protect our West Coast, while your carriers protect Australia. You might not like that directive, but it comes directly from Roosevelt.”
“But if the Japs do come here, the army’ll be overwhelmed.”
Nimitz nodded sadly. “The way things are, that’ll happen even if we stay. I’m returning to San Francisco by air and taking Kimmel’s staff with me. From there we’ll plot our next steps.”
“Chester,” Halsey said softly, “what about the dependents? There are thousands of wives and children of army and navy personnel here, not to mention ordinary civilians. Should we try to take some of them with us?”
Nimitz took a deep breath. It was the most agonizing decision he would ever have to make. “No. I have authorized the removal of the sick, the very old, and the very young, and that’s it. We cannot take them all, and I am not in a mood to play Solomon over who stays and who goes. Further, any attempt to evacuate other civilians will cause a panic. No, we’ll simply say that our actions in moving our ships from here are being taken to fight the Japanese, which is true. We’ll leave enough smaller ships to placate the civilians, and just maybe deter the Japanese, but the heart of the fleet must leave.”
“I hope it works,” said Halsey.
“So do I,” Nimitz answered in a voice that was almost a groan. “So do I.”
Jake Novacek drove his ‘38 Buick carefully down the darkened streets of Honolulu. There were very few cars on the road as a strict curfew was in effect. He’d been stopped several times, and only the fact that he was an armed army officer in uniform had kept the local police or Military Police from taking him in.
His apartment was across the street from a couple of stores. One was a grocery owned by an old Japanese man who also owned Jake’s apartment building. Jake wondered just how he’d fare with the nation at war with Japan. To his chagrin, Jake realized that, even though he’d shopped there often enough, he didn’t know whether the old man was a citizen or not. Jake just bought food and beer, and paid his rent. The old man was named Matsuo, and Jake didn’t know if that was his first or last name.
Jake was dirty, bloody, and exhausted. A bed, he thought, my kingdom for a bed. Oh, yeah, and a shower. He’d seen so much death and so much grief. He just wanted to get the hell away from anything military, if only for a few hours. His apartment was his oasis.
He was haunted by the faces of the families who’d lost loved ones, in particular the pain shown on the face of Alexa Sanderson. Such a beautiful lady in so much agony, he thought, and no possible way for him to help her, or all the others whose loved ones were still being pulled from the dirty waters of Pearl Harbor. He wondered if the funeral had provided any solace for her.
He pulled into his parking spot and wondered just how much longer he’d be able to drive his car, since gas rationing was inevitable. He made a mental note to get a lock for his gas cap. He wondered if somebody might someday steal his tires and what the hell he could do about it. Then he’d be reduced to riding a bicycle. He’d been reliably informed that he looked stupid on a bike. Of course, he’d been drunk the last time he’d attempted to ride.
Food rationing was inevitable too. Thank God nobody’d thought to ration beer. He had a dozen bottles of Budweiser in the fridge that he would cherish after drinking two of them tonight. Then another thought hit him. What would he do if the power went out? He disliked warm beer, but, he thought with a chuckle, he would drink it in the service of his country.
“Get out, you bums!”
“Fucking Jap!”
Jake turned quickly at the sounds. They came from Mr. Matsuo’s store across the street. Three young white men spilled out of the store, followed by an outraged Matsuo. The men were carrying food and beer.
“You pay, you pay,” yelled Matsuo. “Thieves, you thieves!”
The leader of the three, a tall, rangy man in his thirties, stopped and kicked the old man in the gut, dropping him to the ground, where he groaned and writhed.
Shit, Jake thought as he trotted across the street. His sidearm, a venerable but reliable.45 automatic, was already in his hand. “Enough, children,” he snarled. “Drop everything and get your hands up.”
“What the fuck?” said the leader. “Hey, you’re a soldier. You should be on our side. This is a fucking Jap, just like the bastards who killed our men.”
Jake held the pistol steady. The three were drunk. No surprise. “Yeah, and what branch of the service are you in?”
“Registered civilian,” said the leader, smirking. “Now, what are you going to do? You can’t arrest us. You ain’t no cop.”
“Don’t have to be,” Jake said. “There’s a curfew on, you’re robbing this guy, you’re drunk, you assaulted him, and, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a gun pointed right at your empty heads.”