1942

“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.”