Dane looked around and saw his own puzzlement reflected on other faces. How the hell could Halsey be so certain?
“All the same, the Japs will not leave us alone,” he continued. “We believe there will be bombing raids from their carriers and shelling from their battleships, and this will cause panic in California and elsewhere. Our army is moving a number of divisions to key spots along the West Coast to defend the cities and keep the politicians at bay.”
That brought laughter. California’s governor, Culbert Olson, had been strident in his pleas for military help. He’d called for the internment of Japanese civilians and wanted an endless wall of soldiers along the coast. The governors of Oregon and Washington weren’t much better. All politicos were being inundated by calls from people in coastal towns for a ship of their own or a regiment for their personal use to protect them from the rampaging Japs, who hadn’t arrived yet.
King interrupted. “Unfortunately, people like Governor Olson have a point. The Japs control the seas, so they can land with overwhelming force at any point they choose. If I ran their navy, that’s exactly what I’d do, and I’d stay to loot and pillage until we put enough pressure on them to leave. Fortunately for us, we do have a number of cruisers and destroyers remaining and they, along with Pye’s old battleship force, will run combat patrols along the coast. Our subs, of course, will be out scouting and patrolling.”
Merchant nudged Dane and whispered, “He’s saying the Japs will pull out from a raid if pressured. How does that square with your theory about Japanese fanaticism?”
“Withdrawing is not the same as surrendering,” Dane answered, and realized King was glaring at him.
“Do you have anything to add, Commander?” the CNO asked.
Dane swallowed. It was like being a kid in school who’d been caught talking in class. “Sir, I was wondering what the current status of the Panama Canal is and when we’re going to get reinforcements through it?”
Halsey took back the floor. “Good question, Commander. As you’re all aware, a Japanese commando force landed and destroyed the locks on the Pacific side. This caused much of Lake Gatun, which is needed to float ships, to flow down to the ocean. As the lake receded, it left a number of ships in transit literally stuck in the mud or damaged by the sudden flood of water downstream. Work’s already begun on repairs, but God only knows how long it’ll take. At least we’ve stopped the flow of water from Gatun by pushing dirt into the cut and making a rude dam. The rough estimate is at least several months and maybe up to a year before the canal will be back in operation.”
This brought more gasps. Any naval reinforcements would now have to go either around Africa and across the now-hostile Pacific, or around South America and up to California. In either case, the time for the trip had more than doubled and been made significantly more dangerous.
“The attack was made by a company-strength contingent of Japanese Marines,” Halsey added. “They succeeded, but all were killed after inflicting heavy casualties on our troops. Their commanding officer took out two of our men with a grenade while he was dying.” Dane looked at Merchant and the captain nodded. They would request a copy of the report from Panama.
“Furthermore, they came in a tramp freighter which the Coast Guard only belatedly identified. The freighter tried to run away, but was shot up by a Coast Guard cutter and one of our old gunboats that was in the canal area. The enemy ship then rammed the cutter. The gunboat continued to pound the freighter and, when they thought she was dead, sent over a boarding party. At that instant, the ship exploded, killing everyone on the cutter and most of the people on the gunboat. Needless to say, everyone on the freighter was killed. We don’t know if the explosion was accidental or not.”
“Let me give you some reassurance, gentlemen,” Admiral King said. “The situation Admiral Halsey has described is totally accurate, but you are not going to be hung out to dry. We know you need carriers and more carriers. I’ve spoken with Secretary Knox and he assures me that warship production will be shifted from cruisers and destroyers to carriers. Thus, we will be able to accelerate the completion of the Essex by at least several months, even if her shakedown cruise is truncated and she sails with a couple of hundred civilian workers still finishing her. She will be done early and she will be sent to the Pacific. So too will other carriers, such as the smaller Independence, when she is completed.”
After a few more questions, the meeting broke up. Merchant grabbed Dane’s arm. “How’s that report on Jap fanaticism coming?”
“Haven’t started, sir.”
“Start.”
Steve Farris had reluctantly come to the conclusion that Captain Lytle might be more of a danger to the American army than the Japs were. His platoon had been issued helmets and rifles and now at least looked like soldiers. The helmets were the new bowl type and not the World War I pie tins. The new models were said to provide more protection for the occupant’s skull. Farris was in no hurry to check out the hypothesis.
The rifles, however, were the venerable but still lethal 1903 model Springfields, and not the new Garands that were just beginning to be produced. The Springfield was a .30 caliber bolt-action weapon that took a five-shot clip. It might be old, but in the right hands, the Springfield was a deadly weapon. The next day, Lytle took them to the rifle range where the company largely succeeded in hitting the ground, much to the amusement of their Marine instructors. Farris, who considered himself a good to excellent shot, had lost any edge he might have had and was as bad as anybody.
To Steve’s astonishment, Lytle had appeared satisfied and announced that the next day they would head ten miles north and build a post near the small village of Bridger. Bridger was located a mile inland and had a population of two hundred, some of whom farmed and others fished.
Along with being satisfied with the company’s miserable shooting, Lytle was preoccupied with building what Farris considered a resort for himself and his men after they arrived at their destination. Patrolling and recon work were not on his agenda. Instead, a comfortable tent village was constructed with the largest and most luxurious tent going to the captain.
Farris and Lytle soon had a number of arguments regarding this and other matters, but to no avail. Steve once again worked up the nerve to protest and did so in Lytle’s tent when the two of them were alone.
“Sir, when are we going to start doing our job of scouting?”
Lytle laughed mirthlessly. “For what? Do you really think there are Japs coming? Hell, there are thousands of miles of coastline. The odds of the Japs landing here are astronomically small.”
Farris had to admit his lush of a commanding officer had a point. But they had their orders and there was such a thing as doing their duty. “I think we should be doing at least a little recon work instead of painting the rocks white.”
“I think it makes the base look good,” Lytle replied, not catching the sarcasm. Several paths were outlined by brightly painted rocks. Lytle’s breath reeked of booze. Away from San Diego and the sobering presence of more senior officers, he’d again been drinking heavily.
“Regardless, I think it’s a waste and I also believe we should have built elsewhere.”
“Nonsense, we have a great view of the ocean.”
“And that’s the point, Captain. We can see for miles, which means we would stick out like a sore thumb to lookouts on any enemy ship. We should have built behind the hill where we can’t be seen and have lookouts watching the ocean. I agree with you that it’s a long shot that any Jap will show up, but any enemy ship that might happen by would know right away that this is a military post and shell it from a distance, and we’d be unable to do a damn thing about it.”