But first he had to get his fleet out of its unwelcome anchorage. He noticed Commander Fuchida easing his way into the room. Fuchida was on crutches and had released himself from the hospital. He had broken his leg leaping from the burning Akagi and was lucky to be alive. He’d been pulled out of the oil-covered and flaming water only seconds before he would have been burned alive. Yamamoto ordered a second chair brought in, and Fuchida accepted it gratefully.
Admiral Nagumo would not be there. He had been on the bridge of the Akagi and was presumed incinerated. So too were the majority of the carrier’s pilots and crew. Fuchida had been lucky. Only a couple of hundred had survived the catastrophe, and many of those were severely burned. Maybe Nagumo had been lucky too, Yamamoto thought. He would not have to confront the results of the defeat.
“Is there good news?” the admiral asked.
“Only a little,” Commander Watanabe responded. “With the exception of the Akagi and some slight bomb damage to the Ryujo, we are in good shape. Our floatplanes and seaplanes continue their patrolling, and there is no sign of any American ships or planes-”
“However,” Yamamoto interrupted, “we have only a few of those virtually unarmed planes, and most of them have very limited range.”
“True,” Watanabe said.
“Then it is imperative that we get out of this harbor. What is the situation with the Akagi?”
Watanabe grimaced, and there was a distinct shuffling in the room. The Akagi lay on its side in the channel. A sizable portion of it remained above the water, and that part still burned fiercely. Oil and gasoline continued to spill out and burn on the water.
“The engineers say it will be sometime tomorrow before the fires are out. After that, the hulk must cool down sufficiently for the damage to be assessed. It is now confirmed that the Akagi was torpedoed as well as bombed. Several survivors, including Commander Fuchida,” he said and gestured to the commander, “have reported seeing torpedo tracks and explosions against her port hull.”
“And where is the sub?” Yamamoto asked.
“Gone. She escaped when our picket destroyers all went after the wreckage of the American flying boat that landed near the coast.”
Fools, Yamamoto thought, but the damage had been done. “What about other subs? Where there was one, there might be many.”
“The destroyers are back on station, Admiral. Their captains are properly chastened and are vigilant. No other submarines have been sighted.”
“Very well. Back to the Akagi. Can any ships leave, and when can she be moved?”
“With her still burning, it’s hard to tell. There may be room for destroyers to squeeze by, but not anything larger. As to moving her, the engineers are not optimistic. Traditionally, the holes in her hull would be plugged and then she would be righted as the water was pumped out. But this is a process that could take months under normal conditions for a ship her size.”
“No!” Yamamoto said harshly. “If we are here for more than a few days, the Americans will gather like wolves and savage us. If they figure out that we cannot move or launch planes, even their ships in the Atlantic will be steaming here. Tow her out.”
Watanabe was confused. “Sir, we don’t have any tugs strong enough to do that. The Akagi is not just aground. Her hull is full of water, and towing her in that condition will require a massive effort.”
Yamamoto glared at him and then at the others. “But we do have some of the most powerful warships in the world. Use the battleships as tugs. Attach lines to the Akagi and haul her off. Use every ship in the fleet if you have to. If the fires are out tomorrow, I want the lines attached as soon as possible. We must get our carriers out of here!”
Yamamoto took a deep breath and calmed himself. Then he turned to Fuchida. “I must presume that the effort will take time. While that is being done, I want planes to be taken off at least one of our carriers and be able to use the field on Ford Island. Can it be done?”
Fuchida thought quickly. The field on Ford was in bad shape, but that would be relatively easy to fix with plows and shovels. The planes were a different matter. They could not be flown off a carrier. They would have to be unloaded by crane and would quite likely have to have their wings removed. He thought there were cranes available on the shore, but he wasn’t certain. But, even if there were, had they been damaged in the earlier fighting?
Regardless, once the planes were on the ground, the wings would be reattached and the planes could either taxi or be pulled by truck to the field, from where they could begin to patrol and fight. But not until then. What an incredible mess.
“Can it be done?” Yamamoto repeated.
“Yes,” Fuchida replied cautiously.
The admiral understood his hesitation. He trusted Fuchida’s judgment. “How long will it take?”
The commander shook his head. The pain in his leg was increasing. “A week.”
Yamamoto nodded. In a week, either the Akagi would have been cleared from the channel or he would have planes flying from Ford Island. In a week he would be able to defend himself. In the meantime, the Japanese fleet was almost defenseless.
Colonel Omori had eased in and caught the end of the conversation. “Admiral,” he said, “I understand that some of the American flyers have been picked up. I wish to interrogate them in order to find out just how the Americans knew that we were going to be here in sufficient time to plan the attacks.”
Yamamoto looked at him with scarcely concealed disdain. Four badly wounded survivors from the crashed flying boat had been picked up and were being held only a few feet away. They were all enlisted men.
“Tell me, Colonel,” he said sarcastically, “do you really think that Roosevelt or Nimitz entrusted such important information to men of such low rank?”
Omori bowed deeply to hide his embarrassment. “Of course not, sir.”
“Leave the prisoners where they are. Do not waste your time on them.” Yamamoto continued, “Concentrate on finding those who attacked Wheeler. You have confirmed that they were indeed Japanese, haven’t you?”
A second survivor had been located. He had been left for dead by the attackers and had revived sufficiently to confirm what the first soldier had said. The men who had murdered his corporal and nearly killed him had indeed been of Japanese descent. Since all those of Japanese descent in Hawaii had always been considered Japanese citizens by Tokyo, even before the annexation, the act was one of treason and not of war.
“It is confirmed,” Omori said and heard shocked hissing in the room.
“Then you will find those who have betrayed Japan. I will defend the fleet. You search for the traitors. I doubt you will have far to look. Unless, of course, they have joined their brethren so skillfully hiding from you on the other island.”
Flushed with shame, Omori left the room. He understood full well that the attack on Wheeler had been the cause of the problem and remained the main problem. Because of the attack on Wheeler, there had been no planes to defend against even a small American force. Because of the attack on Wheeler, the fleet was bottled up in Pearl Harbor. And it was his fault that the attack had taken place. Omori’s kempetei were responsible for the security of the islands, and through his failures the attack on Wheeler had taken place.
Omori lit a cigarette and walked to where his car and driver waited. Someone in the Japanese community knew about this and would pay dearly, as would the Americans on Hawaii. He would talk to Toyoza Kaga and see if he had heard anything about disaffected young Japanese who would strike against their homeland.
Commander Boshiro peered through the periscope of the I-74 and cursed silently. A large force of warships, American by their silhouettes, was in his view. He pivoted and saw two carriers and at least one battleship. Other, smaller vessels ringed the larger ships, and they were on a direct course for Hawaii. It was also possible, even likely that additional ships were out of his limited view.