When Nomura and Stark met for lunch on July 23, 1941, the ambassador’s face wore the worried expression becoming more and more habitual. Stark eyed his friend sympathetically. He liked Nomura, as did many American naval officers. On this occasion Nomura talked for quite a long time about “his country’s need for the rice and minerals of Indo-China.”1 He asked Stark to arrange a meeting with the President.2 Stark was glad to do so because he hoped that no open rupture would develop, but he could not wish away such a possibility or delude himself that Japanese-American relations were not deteriorating. He thought that the Japanese would be contented with their southern laurels for the time being unless the United States cut off their oil supply.3
The CNO had consistently opposed sanctions against Japan. He knew that the Far East was packed with “plenty of potential dynamite”4 and that the United States was in no position to engage in a two-ocean war; besides, he begrudged distractions of any kind from the primary job of saving Britain and defeating Hitler. The Army’s G-2, however, took a somewhat opposite position. In a memorandum to Marshall dated July 25, Miles wrote:
Effective economic sanctions against Japan . . . would not, in the opinion of this Division, force Japan to take any steps in the way of aggressive action which she does not plan to take anyway, when a favorable opportunity arises, nor would they precipitate a declaration of war on us by Japan. . . . On the contrary, by adopting such a policy we will be able to conserve for Britain and for ourselves supplies which . . . are being worse than wasted when we place them in Japanese hands.5
Nomura left Stark after lunch on July 23 for a less pleasant engagement with Sumner Welles, who as Hull’s second-in-command took over the conversations whenever the secretary was absent. Hull had been in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, for a month recuperating from an illness. At parting Welles said that he was sure Hull “would wish to talk again with the Ambassador” upon his return. But he also had stated that he must tell Nomura, “at the request of Secretary Hull, that the latter could not see that there was any basis now offered for the pursuit of the conversations. . . .”6
Roosevelt met with Nomura, Stark, and Welles at 1700 on July 24. At this session the President made a proposal which could have assured Japan access to Indochinese rice and minerals. He suggested that if Japan agreed not to occupy Indochina or, if it had already begun to do so, to withdraw, he would do everything possible to neutralize Indochina.7 He had little hope of acceptance, but at least he made “one more effort to avoid Japanese expansion to South Pacific.”8 Nomura could taste the pill through the sugar coating and advised Tokyo: “I received the impression that some kind of an economic pressure will be enforced in the near future. . . .”9
Commander Sutegiro Onoda, liaison officer between the Naval General Staff, Navy Ministry, and the Army General Staff, believed that with the move into Indochina Japan crossed its Great Divide. “After that,” he remarked, “there was no turning back. I still had a shred of desperate hope left, but that was only wishful thinking on my part.”10
The move into Indochina threw a new light on the Pearl Harbor project. “Heretofore the Naval General Staff had planned to use carrier-borne aircraft for the invasion of the southern regions,” explained Miyo. “This is one reason why the Naval General Staff was so cool to the Pearl Harbor operation: It demanded carriers, and we thought they were needed in the south. After the occupation of Indochina, however, and the establishment of land-based planes, the question of using carriers in the Southern operation was not so imperative.”11 But it still demanded thorough exploration.
The advance into Indochina also served as a testing ground for the Second Carrier Division, which accompanied the Army convoy. Yamaguchi seized upon the 2,000-mile voyage to practice under operational conditions. Aircraft sprayed off the trim flight decks of Soryu and Hiryu until the two carriers resembled steel fountains at play. While his planes hovered over and beyond the ponderous convoy, Yamaguchi kept his gun crews alert and his maintenance teams on the jump. The sternness of Yamaguchi’s training measures sometimes disconcerted officers newly assigned to his command, but they soon appreciated their worth in terms of efficiency and morale.
Ishiguro, Yamaguchi’s communications and intelligence officer, kept particularly busy. He knew very well that the convoy did not travel in secrecy. His radiomen aboard Soryu intercepted messages from Hong Kong to London. “The British in Hong Kong had excellent intelligence on our task force,” he recalled. “They tracked our course and reported on the type of ship.”
The cruise taught Ishiguro several important lessons, the first being the necessity for absolute radio silence at sea. He was confident that the British had not broken Japan’s top naval code, but he knew they could trace the ship movements through plotted direction-finder bearings. Not only should future task forces silence their own radios, but other units back in the homeland should also send out false communications for the benefit of whatever foreign ears might be listening. And the Japanese Navy must improve its own technique for intercepting foreign messages.12
While Soryu and Hiryu sailed back to Japan, the First Carrier Division steamed south to meet Yamaguchi’s ships between Kyushu and Okinawa. In this area the four flattops carried out combat maneuvers, with the Second Carrier Division sending out dive, horizontal, and torpedo bombers with fighter escort to attack Akagi and Kaga, and vice versa. One of the main purposes of these exercises was to see if the fighters could fly beyond 200 miles and still maintain Morse communication with their mother ships. They could and did.13
Now that Japan had advanced into Indochina, Roosevelt decided upon a concrete expression of American displeasure. At a Cabinet meeting held on July 24, the day of his late-afternoon conference with Nomura, he secured agreement to the prompt freezing of the assets of both Japan and China. Chiang Kai-shek had been requesting the latter for some time. But further than that the President was not yet ready to go.14
Stark and Marshall sent messages on July 25 to Kimmel and Short, among others, advising of the forthcoming freeze. They added, “CNO and COS do not anticipate immediate hostile reaction by Japan through the use of military means but you are furnished this information in order that you may take appropriate precautionary measures against possible eventualities.”15 Thus, Washington warned Hawaii of potential trouble with Japan, yet at the same time discounted the danger of military action. This established a pattern which Washington was to follow almost to the eve of the Pearl Harbor attack.
That evening at 2000 the summer White House at Hyde Park, New York, released a press statement: The President was issuing an executive order, effective the next day, freezing Japanese assets. With the announcement of Roosevelt’s action, Nomura began “to have misgivings about the future.” He believed that “once the economic freeze was on, the road to a full diplomatic break was not long.” He thought, too, that Japan would now move into Malaya and the Netherlands East Indies. This would result in “very strained relations, perhaps even a diplomatic break, but not war at once,” since “it would take some time on the part of the U.S. Congress to declare war.”16
The President’s action shook the imperial ship of state from stem to stern. “Perhaps the phase of our order which struck deepest into the sensibilities of the Japanese was that at last the United States has shown this country that it is no longer bluffing!” reported Commercial Attaché Frank S. Williams in an excellent summary. “. . . I believe that a large percentage of the thinking Japanese people realize that it would be national suicide for their country to become engaged in an allout sic war with the United States and Great Britain.”17
While the official Japan Times and Advertiser at first remained editorially calm, its reprints from the Japanese-language press gave a good sampling of the rather panicky outburst of reaction. Miyako characterized the freeze as “a declaration of economic war. . . .” Kokumin, spokesman for the Army, went up in smoke: “We must have an all-embracing measure to tackle successfully any development that may ensue. And there is only one thing to do to realize this.”18
No one worried about the explosive situation more than Grew. So when, on July 27, he received a telegram from Welles transmitting Roosevelt’s proposal for neutralizing Indochina, he grabbed the chance eagerly. Although this was a Sunday, he requested an immediate interview with Toyoda, who met with him at 1130. To Grew’s astonishment, Toyoda said that he had not yet received such a proposal from his embassy in Washington. Nomura’s diary, however, reveals clearly that in fact he advised Tokyo of Roosevelt’s suggestion by a message dispatched at 2000 on July 24, following up with the details on the twenty-ninth; actually, on the twenty-fourth Japan had already made its move.
That evening of the twenty-seventh, after his meeting with Toyoda, when the first flush of enthusiasm had paled, Grew became pessimistic about Japan’s accepting the proffered solution. He comforted himself with this reflection: “Whether Japan accepts or not, the President’s step places the United States in an unassailable position from the point of view of history. . . . If the Japanese fail to avail themselves of it, their own position in history will not be enviable.”19
But Japan was not in the least concerned with the opinion of posterity, as witness the formation of Japanese naval planes winging over Chungking on July 30. Suddenly one of the pilots headed for the American Embassy area and aimed a bomb at the United States gunboat Tutuila anchored nearby. “By the grace of heaven the bomb missed the Tutuila by about eight yards,” Grew recorded, “although the ship was damaged and another bomb again came dangerously near our Embassy. Fatalities were escaped only by a miracle.” American witnesses unanimously agreed that the attack was deliberate.
The foreign minister apologized,20 and responsible-minded officers in the Japanese Navy held their breaths. This was exactly the type of incident which they feared might plunge Japan prematurely into war with the United States.21 And it could scarcely have come at a more awkward time—just when Roosevelt had offered to neutralize Indochina and when he still hesitated to clamp down on shipment of oil to Japan.
In Washington Welles summoned Nomura to a meeting at 1145 on July 30 at Roosevelt’s order and handed him a stiff note. Nomura made a gallant effort to brush off the event as a mere annoyance. However, he promised to report the note to his government.22 He did so that very day, dropping his impassive mask. Indeed, one gets the impression that seldom in six decades of an unusually full life had Kichisaburo Nomura been so agitated.
Today I knew from the hard looks on their faces that they meant business and I could see that if we do not answer to suit them they are going to take some drastic steps. . . . Think of it! Popular demand for the freezing of Japanese funds was subsiding and now this had to happen. I must tell you it certainly occurred at a most inopportune moment. . . .
Things being as they are, need I point out to you gentlemen that in my opinion it is necessary to take without one moment’s hesitation some appeasement measures. . . . 23
Much to Nomura’s relief, however, the United States accepted Japan’s prompt apology, and officially that ended the matter.
But to predict the next American step required no Nostradamus. The area in which Japan was most vulnerable to American sanctions was oil. The President had consistently resisted the pressure to stop the flow, lest total cutoff trigger a Japanese invasion of the Netherlands East Indies, thus extending the European war to Asia and making the defeat of Hitler that more difficult. Now, on August 1, after long, serious discussions, Roosevelt slammed an embargo on high-octane gasoline as well as crude oil.24
This put Japan in a tight spot, for it could not possibly meet its extensive oil needs by producing synthetics, exploiting oil in northern Sakhalin, or purchasing it from Iran or Peru. Japan estimated that its Navy would be disabled in two years, and important industries paralyzed in less than half that time.25 Tomioka calculated that the stock on hand in July could fill only 75 percent of the requirements for two years of combat. In addition, the fleet had always estimated that it would need 500,000 tons in reserve for the Great All-Out Battle. Against these grim figures, peacetime consumption of the Japanese Navy ran to 300,000 tons every month. What is more, these estimates did not include any margin for loss through tanker sinkings or storage fires.26
The United States had no desire to strangle Japan. Thinking Americans realized that the many fine qualities of the Japanese people, flowing in productive channels, could be a strength and a blessing to all Asia. On the other hand, the United States had no intention of subsidizing Japanese expansion in Asia while at the same time opposing German expansion in Europe.
Japan had invited American sanctions by its move south. And it was typical of the Japanese in the context of the day that they did not consider pulling in their horns or seeking to obtain oil by peaceful means. The way to a potential understanding with the United States lay open through Roosevelt’s offer to work for the neutralization of French Indochina and, shortly thereafter, of Thailand. Alas, Japan did not accept. Why?
The answer is most difficult, yet one may venture a few suggestions. Japan’s entire national policy—internal economy, the China affair, the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, the southern strategy—was so indissolubly linked that the Japanese feared giving way on any one point would be to break the chain beyond repair. Take that touchstone of Japanese policy, the “China Incident,” which was entering its fifth year in July 1941. In his admirable report Williams summarized the problem:
Army authorities, especially the Young Officer Group, long ago reached the definite decision that their future, as the dominating force of this country, depends entirely upon their ability to conquer China or at least bring the China Affair to a successful conclusion. And failing this it would be better for the Army to go down fighting a major power. . . . 27
Thus, in a subtly Oriental way, China had avenged itself on its tormentor. It stood like a Great Wall between Japan and the democracies, between Japan and Japan’s own peaceful, prosperous “manifest destiny.”
Yet another thorny issue was Japan’s Axis alliance. The Japanese insisted that the Axis formed the foundation stone of their foreign policy. Therefore, in dealing with Tokyo, the United States had to consider any problem in the light of the Tripartite Pact, which imposed an insuperable handicap. The American government desired nothing more than to be able to devote undistracted attention to aiding Britain and the Soviet Union in demolishing Hitler and all his works. But Hitler was Japan’s ally.
Above all, Japan had lashed itself to the chariot wheels of its own expansionist policy. It was determined to secure territory and treasure in the south, if possible without a major new conflict, but with one if necessary. Tokyo wanted nothing less from the United States than full acceptance of its program for a Greater East Asia.
No one can say with certainty that had the United States not frozen Japanese assets and embargoed oil, Japan would have accepted the status quo. The evidence of history suggests that it would not. Its government-controlled press had fostered the idea of southern expansion so loudly and so long that one cannot wonder that the Japanese man in the street came to believe it was not merely feasible but Japan’s right. The subject dominated the liaison conferences of 1941, and on July 2 Japan’s statesmen made the momentous decision to advance in the south even though they fully realized that they risked war with the United States and Britain.
Could the United States have registered a formal diplomatic protest and let it go at that? Protest after protest had already gone forth to the Axis capitals unavailingly. Could Washington have imposed light sanctions? Roosevelt had done so in 1940 without the slightest effect on Japan’s policy of expansion. By the summer of 1941 such action had no real meaning.
At the opposite end of the scale, could the United States have joined with Britain, China, Russia, and the Netherlands against Japan? Such an idea was not only abhorrent to American sensibilities but impracticable. The United States was not militarily ready to challenge Japan. As Stark and his advisers well knew, Kimmel’s Pacific Fleet was substantially inferior to Yamamoto’s Combined Fleet.
Furthermore, both the Army and the Navy needed every hour diplomacy could wring out of the situation. For the Philippines, long considered indefensible, suddenly seemed to hold the key to a southern defense. On July 26 the President issued the military order which would bring the Philippines’ armed forces into the service of the United States. Therefore, the War Department established a new command in the islands—U.S. Armed Forces Far East (USAFFE)—and recalled former Chief of Staff Douglas MacArthur to active duty in the rank of major general to take command. He was already on the spot, having been serving as military adviser to the commonwealth government.28 Until MacArthur had whipped his command into shape, the War and Navy departments wanted more time.
So, when the alternatives are examined, it is difficult to see what other course Roosevelt could have taken at this point. Economic sanctions were strong medicine, but they are legal, recognized moves on the international chessboard. The embargo was not a malicious attempt to bait Japan into war, but designed to make it stop, look, and listen.
The trouble was that the Japanese were not accustomed to thinking and acting in terms of pragmatic needs. They considered themselves a chosen race, destined by heaven as rulers and leaders. Exceedingly proud and sensitive, they reacted strongly to any real or imagined slight. Roosevelt’s oil embargo delivered a stinging slap to the national psyche. With this action, the United States reached virtually the outer limits of alternatives. Nothing remained but a break in diplomatic relations, and following that, what weapon was left but an actual declaration of war?—a progression of events Nomura had pointed out specifically to Tokyo. Little wonder, from the Japanese point of view, that they began to think more and more that the United States meant to follow up the embargo with these two final moves if Japan did not knuckle under. Being human, the Japanese were genuinely fearful; being Japanese, they responded to the challenge not with surrender but with further belligerence.
Among other things, the embargoes caused the Naval General Staff to take another close look at the Pearl Harbor project. “After the embargo was enforced, the oil stocks became less and less. Therefore, some decision had to be made concerning the Pearl Harbor operation,” recalled Tomioka. “If we had waited until 1942, we would have had little faith in the success of the operation.”29 But the possibility of full-scale victory over the United States did not enter these calculations.30
The Japanese did not think through the problem of war with the United States from one logical point to the next. If Washington miscalculated Japanese reaction, Tokyo reciprocated. On the one hand, the Japanese dreamed of a compromise peace with their great Pacific rival; on the other, Yamamoto was planning an operation guaranteed to rouse the United States to such cataclysmic fury that nothing short of unconditional surrender would satisfy the national temper.