1942

All potential targets have been warned in such a manner as not to betray that the information came from Magic. Fortunately, the Japanese are not all that concerned about radio silence at this time, so we’re able to report on their buildup in a general and logical manner. We’ve said nothing about any infantry being onboard; that would be too much detail and could give away the game. We hope that can be inferred by our people. At any rate, it is far more important that the secret of Magic be kept.”

“What arrogance,” Roosevelt hissed. “The Japs will pay for this.” He then dismissed Marshall. King remained alone with him.

“Tell me, Admiral, are you with us or against us?”

King flushed. “With you. You’ve given me an opportunity, and I will not fail you.”

“Good. While I respect your opinions and wish to hear them, I desire and require your utmost cooperation. You must understand that the decision to implement Rainbow 5 has been made and is no longer an issue.”

“Yes, Mr. President. You are aware that everything you said about me, the drinking and the skirt chasing, is all true, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Rest assured, Admiral, I do not promote people on their worthiness for sainthood. If I did that”-he chuckled-”we’d never get anything done around here.”

As the admiral exited the White House, he saw General Marshall standing by King’s staff car.

“Did you notice how he looked?” Marshall asked.

King had. “He looked fatigued, almost exhausted. This whole thing must be a terrible strain on him,” he replied.

“Yes, although I fear it may be more than that. He is not a well man. The effects of the polio have weakened his body, and the pressures of running a war are starting to pile up on him. I point this out so you will know how important it is to not aggravate him unduly. If you think he is wrong, speak it, but don’t push for a Pacific-first war when he cannot give it to you, even though he wants nothing more than to exact revenge on Japan for Pearl Harbor.”

“I know.” King sighed. He then told Marshall of his brief conversation alone with the president.

“Good. Think about something else. If something happens to FDR, then who becomes president?”

King paled. “Henry Wallace. Good God, General, the man’s almost a Communist.”

Marshall smiled. “I wouldn’t go quite that far, but he is quite a liberal, and he does seem to think that the sun rises and sets on Joe Stalin and the Soviet Union. Let’s face it, under a President Henry A. Wallace, it is unlikely that you would get a rowboat for the Pacific while the Soviets were in any danger whatsoever.”

“True enough,” King admitted. Roosevelt had earlier agreed to an aggressive defense and had also sent a few additional warships to the Pacific. Not enough to take on the Jap fleet, but at least it was something. This conversation with Marshall was the second lecture he’d received this day on the need to be a team player. He would do it. He would swallow the bile of having to let the Pacific wait and to aid the British and Soviets instead.

God help the Philippines and Hawaii, he thought. On the other hand, God help the United States if Henry Wallace ever became president. Why the hell hadn’t Roosevelt taken more care in selecting someone who was only a heartbeat away from the presidency?

CHAPTER 6

Is Captain Jake Novacek entered the small, cluttered office at Hickam Field, he started to report formally to his new commanding officer in G-2, the Intelligence Department. Before Jake could utter a word, the colonel behind the paper-strewn desk scowled and abruptly waved him to a chair.

“Novacek, you are the sorriest sack of shit I have ever seen. You are the biggest mistake West Point ever made, and you could spend an eternity with those bars on your shoulder and you still wouldn’t be a gentleman. Not only that, your reports are pure, unadulterated bullshit, and they are so barely intelligible that I wonder if you speak English at all.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Colonel. I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore.”

With that, both men laughed and shook hands. Colonel Joseph Lawton Collins was forty-six, a man of medium height and a trim, athletic build. He had a square, solid face and clear eyes that hid a wicked sense of humor. Joe Collins had been an infantry tactics instructor at the academy, where the two men had formed a close friendship. Collins had admired the grim determination of the young cadet Novacek, who would not take the easy way out by resigning and returning to his old NCO rank when things got tough.

Collins offered a cigarette, which Jake accepted. “Jake, it’s good to see a face I recognize and trust around here. I’m not an intelligence man, I’m a line officer,” he told the junior officer.

Jake understood. “I heard a rumor you actually told General Marshall that you didn’t want any more Washington desk jobs and he listened.” Putting Collins in a desk job was akin to caging a tiger.