“Are you suggesting the fleet should abandon Pearl?” Roosevelt asked.
“I’ve told Nimitz it’s his call. I will support whatever he recommends. But yes, I do think he will recommend that we pull what’s left of the fleet back to California, where it was until last summer, and lick our wounds. If the oil depot can be repaired and replenished without Jap interference, then we can move back fairly quickly. Until then, we are just too vulnerable at Pearl Harbor.
“Let’s face it,” King added. “Without the ability to mount effective patrols, the navy is almost as blind as it was on December 7. If the Japs launch a force and hold to radio silence, any warning would be counted in hours, not days. Even our Magic intercepts were useless, remember.”
The mention of Magic intercepts referred to the fact that the United States had been deciphering Japan’s diplomatic code for some time, and had been making progress in unlocking the secrets of the military codes. Even so, those abilities had not helped to prevent the attack on Pearl Harbor. The Japanese diplomatic codes had made no reference to any specific action, and the Japanese fleet had kept remarkably tight radio silence as it steamed toward Hawaii. There were times when technology was ineffective and old-fashioned methods proved best.
Marshall nodded grimly. “Then I will make no effort to reinforce General Short until the situation is resolved. Until we can establish naval and air parity, it won’t matter how many soldiers I ship over. Short will have to make do with the resources he has.”
Marshall paused and then added, “I’ve also directed Short to put on hold the reorganization of the Hawaiian Division into the 24th and 25th Infantry Divisions.”
The general briefly explained that the Hawaiian Division was a large World War I-type division that had been organized for trench warfare in Europe in 1917. He had been reorganizing all the army’s divisions into smaller and more mobile units, and the Hawaiian Division was one of the few left to make over.
“It also makes no sense,” Marshall continued, “to have the division in the middle of a reorganization should the Japs invade. Let them keep their current structure and leaders for the time being.”
There was no argument from Roosevelt or the others. “There’s another reason for deferring the change,” Marshall said grimly, “and it’s a psychological one. If the Japs invade and are successful, the American public won’t be too distressed if something called the Hawaiian Division is lost. Let’s face it, it sounds like a bunch of people in flowered shirts and sarongs. But if the 24th and 25th Infantry Divisions are forced to surrender, the scope of the loss will be apparent.”
The president looked at him in astonishment. Admiral King’s jaw dropped and it took him a moment to find his voice. “Jesus Christ, General, that’s just about the most coldhearted and devious thing I’ve ever heard of.”
Marshall eyed him with apparent dispassion. Only he knew the internal agony he was feeling at the thought of losing any of his soldiers. “Do you approve?”
King nodded. “Yes, General, I do.”
Alexa Sanderson stood by the edge of the newly dug grave and half listened to the chaplain intone some prayer or other. From what she was able to gather, she should be overjoyed that Tim was in heaven with the angels, instead of lying in a wooden box that was about to be covered with dirt. She did not accept that assessment. She missed Tim terribly, and her whole body ached with the loss.
However, she’d had some time to think over the fact of Tim’s death and accepted both it and the fact that she had nothing to regret. She didn’t even resent the fact that the coffin had been sealed. Perhaps it was a blessing. She would be able to remember him as he was in life and not in death. Alexa fully understood that he had died violently and had been in the oil-soaked water for more than a day. The remains in the box would in no way resemble the man she’d made love to the night before he left for duty that morning.
They had loved each other, but it was over. She would revere and honor his memory, but she would also move on with her life. She could even use the word death, which surprised some people. It amused her how others used terms like gone away, or departed, as if the dead person was coming back. Tim was dead. Nothing would change that.
Alexa even found a moment to wonder if she would marry again. To her surprise, she didn’t find the thought repugnant, not even at this early stage of her widowhood and in the depth of sorrow. Their lives had been happy, so why wouldn’t a future life be as well? She was twenty-eight and, despite her grief, knew that she would someday recover.
When the service ended, she would thank the chaplain for his nice prayers, although she was far from certain that he had any idea who he was burying. She didn’t blame him. Thousands had been killed by the Japs with additional thousands wounded. Even as they mourned, other interments were taking place around them. The area in Punchbowl crater was rapidly becoming a national cemetery for the dead of the young war. Alexa stared at the chaplain, who faltered over a prayer. The poor man looked exhausted, but at least he was alive.
Finally it was over. A couple of her neighbors and a handful of the students she taught at the church-run school drifted away. With the exception of Melissa’s husband and the rapidly departing chaplain, only one man in uniform had been present, and she walked over to him. “Thank you for coming, Captain.”
Jake Novacek nodded. He was determined not to embarrass himself by saying something banal or stupid, as he had managed to do at other funerals. He was surprised at the lack of attendance by naval personnel but said nothing.
“Tim spoke kindly of you on a number of occasions. He said you didn’t hit him too hard.”
Jake smiled slightly. “We generally played on opposite sides, but he was always a good guy. I’ll miss him.” And a helluva lot of others, he didn’t add.
Alexa took the compliment. She was a little surprised by the burly Novacek. At first glance, it would be easy to mistake him for a Neanderthal who had stolen an officer’s uniform. But a few words with him had convinced her the impression was wrong. There was depth to the man, as well as compassion.
“I’m not surprised that no one else came,” she said. “So many of his friends are dead or wounded themselves, particularly those from the Oklahoma, and everyone is so busy with the living that it’s easy to forget the dead. Then there’s the fact, of course, that I’m not very popular with the other officers and their wives.”
“Oh?” What the hell had she done to be disliked, he wondered, and did he really want to know?
“My political views are anathema to them. I’m a pacifist, and I hate war in all its forms. Does that bother you? If it wasn’t for the fact that my uncle’s a congressman, I think Tim and I would have been totally ignored.”
A pacifist? Was that all? But it would have been enough to result in ostrarization in the close-knit family of military officers. However, he understood the deference she would have received with a political relative. “What bothers me, Mrs. Sanderson, is that I cannot recall the last time I used the word anathema in an intelligent conversation.”
The comment brought a wide and unexpected grin from her, and he continued. “I have no argument with anyone’s political or moral views. Somehow I’ve always felt that part of my job was to protect them. Maybe I’m a little naive, but I have no problem with pacifists. After this war is over,” he added drily, “I may become one myself.”
“Well then, Captain, I’m even more glad you came.” Melissa Wilson and her recently arrived husband stepped behind them as they walked to their cars. “I presume you will have to return to duty.”