It did, however, faze Yamamoto, Nagumo, and Fuchida. Carrier pilots were excessively trained in Yamamoto’s opinion, and there were too few of them to use as reinforcements after lives were thrown away. Planes could be built by the thousands, but where would the pilots come from? He had tried to get modifications to the rigorous training program but had so far been unsuccessful. Even Commanders Fuchida and Genda, both products of the system, concurred that changes had to be made or Japan would run out of carrier pilots long before the Americans did.
As a result of casualties already taken, Yamamoto had made the decision not to send Nagumo’s carriers on a raid through the Indian Ocean to Ceylon after Oahu fell. No, they would need time to regroup before striking toward Australia. The Royal Navy bases at Trincomalee and elsewhere would keep for another day. Fortunately, the Royal Navy contingent in the Indian Ocean was not a great threat. At least not yet.
“Watanabe?”
“Sir?”
“If the Americans are not going to rise to the bait, then we must end this as soon as possible. Please inform General Tadoyashi that there is no need for him to hold anything back. The Americans simply are not coming. Please tell him that I would appreciate it greatly if he would use whatever force is necessary to bring this campaign to a quick and decisive halt.”
Part of the plan was that Tadoyashi’s army would strengthen itself and mark time for a few days as a lure for the American fleet. It was now obvious that the gambit had failed and was to be discarded.
After Watanabe left, Yamamoto regretted the part of the bargain with Tojo that had compelled him to use carrier pilots on Molokai, instead of asking for more expendable army pilots. Army pilots would have been at least as effective, but no, he’d had to promise that naval personnel would fly from Molokai. As a result, Fuchida had lost more than fifty planes and pilots, an entire carrier’s worth of irreplaceable pilots. Anyone, Yamamoto angrily reminded himself, even a half-trained army pilot, can land on a field. It takes great skill and training first to find and then to land on a moving carrier in an angry and tossing sea.
At least General Tadoyashi could now proceed without any constraints. This meant that terrible things would occur on Oahu if the Americans didn’t surrender. Yamamoto wondered if this was another decision he’d regret.
CHAPTER 10
Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.” The voice sounded tinny over the intercom, but it got everyone’s attention. “Weather and the Japanese permitting, we will be departing momentarily. The smoking lamp is off and will not be lit. We will be flying at two hundred miles an hour, at a height of six inches, and this is the first time I’ve ever flown anything this large.”
Joe Collins shifted uncomfortably. “Another unemployed comedian. I’ll have him shot when we get to California.”
The voice on the intercom was unperturbed. “Seriously, folks, my name is Lieutenant Commander Meagher, and I’ve flown this plane for years for Pan Am as well as being part of the Navy Reserve. You’re on a Boeing Model 314 flying boat, and we have a range of just under four thousand miles, which should get us to California with no fuel problems. Under civilian conditions, we could carry a crew of eight and seventy-four passengers, and even sleep forty of them in bunks. As we are no longer civilians and have been designated the C-98, we now have a crew of only four, which means you can get your own damned coffee. We have fifty-one passengers plus all their equipment. Our cruising speed is 184 miles an hour, and we are 2,300 miles from San Francisco, so you can do your own math and determine the length of the flight. Oh yeah, the heads don’t work.”
“I really am going to kill him,” said Collins.
“We will be flying extremely low in order to avoid detection, so keep your windows closed and you won’t get wet. And, for those of you who were expecting a nonstop flight, sorry, but we will be landing on the Big Island to let off some passengers.”
“That’s us,” Jake muttered from his seat beside Collins. Behind him, Sergeant Will Hawkins and eleven other men acknowledged the obvious in silence.
Jake had just met Hawkins, a rangy young man in his mid-twenties who exuded quiet confidence and competence. Hawkins assured Jake that all the men on the plane were volunteers, and not deadbeats people were trying to dump.
There was grumbling from some of the others. Collins checked his shoulder to see if the shiny star that designated his early promotion to brigadier general was still there. One of the reasons he’d been promoted ahead of schedule was to be the ranking officer on the plane in case anyone had problems with the change in schedule. One blimpish-looking colonel muttered a few comments about correcting things, but a steely glance from Collins settled the matter.
“I can’t believe this thing is going to get off the ground,” Jake muttered.
The plane had been taxiing on the waters off Ford Island along Battleship Row. The cadavers of the sunken ships were dimly visible through the windows as reminders of the disaster.
With a roar, the giant flying boat surged forward, and, after a gut-tightening eternity, it lifted off the water and banked southward.
There were no more flippant comments from the pilot as the plane flew over the shattered fuel storage depot and out across the enemy-controlled Pacific. As explained to Jake and Collins, the flight plan was a replay of the attempt to free the Pennsylvania. It was presumed that the Japs could not be everywhere and would have most of their ships and planes watching anything trying to escape east. The flying boat would head south, drop off Jake, and then head well south again before finally turning east toward California.
As promised, the plane flew almost shockingly low over the water, and it seemed to Jake that the whitecaps were lapping its belly. The pilot made one more terse comment about absolutely no smoking. It was a reminder that the plane was built for civilian purposes and not armored; therefore, any hit from a Jap gun could ignite the full load of fuel.
Once Jake saw the silhouette of a destroyer a few miles away and thought they’d had it, but luck was with them and the plane droned on undetected toward Hawaii. The trip from Oahu was not a long one, but it seemed to take forever for the dark shape of the Big Island to come into view.
There were no lakes or rivers on Hawaii where the big plane could land, so the pilot set her down in the gently rolling swells off Manuka Bay, near the southwest tip of the island.
Rafts were launched, and Jake and his little army paddled off toward the beach. Even before they were ashore, the plane taxied away and lifted off into the darkness. The people Jake was to rescue were miles away, and it would be too dangerous for the flying boat to wait. Jake’s orders said some other form of pickup would be arranged once he found the lost naval personnel, who were waiting patiently but well inland. He hoped they were well hidden. In case there was more than one group of navy people wandering around, Jake had been given a sign and a countersign, which he’d shared with Hawkins in case something happened to him.
After they waded the last few feet to the dry ground, they hid the rafts and Jake reviewed his resources. Counting himself, he had twelve men, along with food, ammunition, medical supplies, and radio equipment. He was effectively stranded in what was very likely going to become enemy-occupied territory, and considered himself a well-armed and modern Robinson Crusoe.
As they picked up their gear and headed inland, Jake could only wonder what on earth made this mission so important.