1942

Jake wondered just where that left Toyoza Kaga. To date his information had been perfect. Would it continue if the Japanese did attack? Kaga was a survivor, and that worried Jake. How far would he go to survive? But Toyoza Kaga was one of the real leaders in the community, and Jake would continue to depend on him. What other choice did he have?

“Okay,” Collins said. “Now, what’s your professional guess? Will the Japs attack again?”

Jake answered without hesitation. “Yes. They’d be crazy not to.”

“Can we stop them? What’s your assessment of the Hawaiian Division?”

The question surprised Jake. “You’d know that better than I, wouldn’t you?”

“First, Jake, remember that I’ve only been here a few days. Second, while I’ve read a lot of reports, I really haven’t seen the Hawaiian Division in action. I’ve got my opinions, but now I want yours.”

“Okay. The division is too much spit and polish and not well trained or equipped for this war. If this was 1917, they’d be in great shape. Nothing can be done about the equipment, which is as bad as everyone else’s, but the training deficiencies could be corrected. If they were going to France to live in trenches, they’d be okay. But that’s not going to happen. When the Japs come, the Hawaiian Division’s going to fight a superbly trained and highly maneuverable enemy army that’ll cut them to shreds, particularly since they won’t have any air cover.

“Everybody keeps underestimating the Japanese military, and it’s going to cost us dearly if and when they actually do come. Somehow, we’ve got to stop thinking of the Japs as nearsighted, buck-toothed, and stupid when they’ve proven they are anything but. As it is currently configured and trained, the Hawaiian Division will fight bravely and hard, but it will be defeated should the Japs come in force.”

Collins agreed. It had been his assessment as well. The structure of the Hawaiian Division was a relic of World War I, too unwieldy for the war of maneuver that had just occurred in France and Russia.

To compensate for the lack of mobility, the Hawaiian Division’s four infantry regiments had been dispersed across Oahu. Two were in the approximate central part of the island, at Schofield Barracks; one outside Honolulu; and one in the north of the island, near Haleiwa’s famous beaches.

“You agree with Short’s disposition of the troops?”

“Yes. Under the circumstances, there’s not much else he can do. I might be tempted to have a second regiment near Haleiwa, since that’s the most logical place for a landing and only twenty miles from Pearl Harbor, but, hell, we’ve done a bad job of outguessing the Japs lately.”

“What’s the navy doing?”

“Bailing out as fast as they can. The Pennsylvania’s the only big ship still here, and she’ll leave in a couple of days at the most. We’ve got a handful of subs and a few destroyers, but that’s it. There are a number of damaged ships, but they aren’t going anywhere. A few navy ships are passing through from the Philippines, but all they do is use up what little fuel the navy still has. Most of the navy’s shore facilities are shutting down and moving out too. It’s a mess, Colonel, and from what I hear, the navy still isn’t patrolling more than fifty miles out. The fuel problem again. Of course,” he added ruefully, “not many of our planes are in the air, either.”

“Then the Japs could be right over the horizon, and, once again, we’d know nothing about it.”

“Unless we got lucky, Joe, and we haven’t been lucky in a while.”

Collins was about to say something when an air-raid siren went off in the distance. “Another false alarm?” he asked. “Somebody spot a seagull?”

False alarms were common, and both men waited for the usual all-clear or for the grim sounds of additional sirens. There was a pause; then the chorus of sirens increased to full volume. Behind the wailing could be heard the pap-pop-pap of antiaircraft fire. The Japs had returned.

They were about to run to a shelter when Collins’s phone rang. The colonel answered, listened, and slammed the receiver down. “The Japs are landing on Molokai. Damnit, they fucked us again.”

Now they could hear bombs exploding. “We needed more time,” Collins said angrily.

But we’re not going to get it, Jake thought sadly.

Alexa hadn’t planned to return to teaching so soon, but she had a compelling need to do something. She couldn’t dwell on Tim’s terrible death, and no amount of moping would bring him back to her. She hoped that working with the lively children would bring a degree of normalcy to her life.

Even though she now had the use of Tim’s car, she walked to the school and found that the gentle exercise made her feel good. If she didn’t walk the two miles, she rode her bike, which meant that the gas rationing had not yet affected her.

Father Monroe and the students had welcomed her. She cried just a little when the children presented her with small gifts and welcomed her with hugs.