Admiral Nakahara, chief of the Navy Ministry’s Personnel Bureau, confided gloomily to his diary on October 2: “People say that the only alternative left for us is to choose war . . . that irresolution . . . cannot be borne any longer.”
At the War College near beautiful Meiji Park, those who were “slated to become staff officers of each Corps of the Southern Army conducted further war games” from October 1 through 4. Uchida and Commander Yuji Yamamoto represented the Naval General Staff and presented the Navy’s point of view to their Army colleagues.1 Uchida formed the impression that the Army officially knew nothing about the Pearl Harbor plan, but that several Army officers privately did.2
Nor did Japan’s embassy in Washington lack food for thought. On October 1 Terasaki of the American desk in Tokyo sent a long, ominous message to Counselor Iguchi. After expressing formal regrets that “the United States does not reciprocate our statesmanship,” Terasaki continued with a few further remarks about “the exceedingly critical situation at home . . .” and added, “Time is now the utmost important element. Whether this matter materializes or not has a direct and important bearing on peace on the Pacific and even of the world. . . .”3
One American voice always ringingly confident spoke out to the American Bar Association in Indianapolis on October 1. Declared Knox:
The best defense has always been a swift offense, and a navy is inherently an instrument of offensive action because of its mobility. Our purpose in having a navy is defensive, but when it comes to fighting the navy must always act offensively. . . .
Always, an autocratic aggressor has the time factor in his favor. He can determine when to act and he can keep secret his purpose until the hour of action arrives. . . . 4
Thus the sun of October 3 (Japanese time)—October 2 in the United States—rose on a world far from serene. Peering over the horizon at Washington, it heralded Hull’s seventieth birthday. One might have thought that he deserved a day’s leisurely celebration with his family and friends. Instead, he summoned Nomura to give the ambassador an “oral statement” in reply to Japan’s proposals of September 6, 23, and 27.5
As soon as Tokyo translated the American reply, a liaison conference met. Only Konoye, Toyoda, Tojo, Oikawa, and the two chiefs of staff attended, together with Terasaki, who read and explained the telegrams. He then summarized the reply: “Since it appears that although Japan agrees with the United States regarding principles, she differs on their application, the United States is doubtful about holding a meeting of the two heads of state.”
Tojo suggested that the conference study this “extremely critical” matter further and not attempt to reply that same day. But Nagano cut through the fog ruthlessly. “There is no longer time for discussion. We want quick action.” After Tojo had explained “the Empire’s exceptions to the ‘Four Principles,’” the meeting decided in favor of further study, with another conference to be held as promptly as possible.6 It is therefore not surprising that Toyoda dispatched a message that day which backed down from Konoye’s formerly agreeable stand, pulling back from the semblance of a concrete agreement with Hull’s Four Principles.7
The Army High Command also met on October 6. It summarized its policy as follows:
1. The Army concludes that there is no hope in conciliatory settlement of the Japanese-American negotiations. Therefore, war is inevitable.
2. With regard to the question of the stationing and withdrawal of Japanese forces, there will be no change in the decided terms, including the wording.
3. If the Foreign Office believes there is a hope for conciliatory settlement, it may continue the negotiation with the deadline set at 15 October.
The next day Sugiyama got together with Nagano and reached “complete accord.” But Oikawa, more conservative and cautious than Nagano, still harbored certain reservations.8
While the heat was figuratively on in Tokyo, it was literally so in Washington. The city sizzled under unseasonable temperatures in the nineties, much to Stimson’s physical distress. Yet he was well pleased with a conversation he had with Hull following a “War Council” meeting on the sixth. The secretary of state asked Stimson for his “views of what a possible settlement would be in case the Japanese should throw down their hands and resolve to be good.” Predictably Stimson replied that “no promises of the Japs based on words would be worth anything . . . there must be action”—specifically an evacuation of China and a commitment not to strike Siberia. He opposed the President’s attending any meeting with Konoye without settlement of these points. What is more, “no actual promise of ours should be effective until the evacuation had taken place.” These were heavy demands under the circumstances, but Hull agreed.9
The Japanese Army General Staff having just decided (1) that war was inevitable, (2) not to yield an inch in the matter of withdrawing troops from China, and (3) to give the Foreign Office only until October 15 to settle with Washington, this conversation between Hull and Stimson has its ironic aspects. The time line especially had never been more finely drawn. In a grim reversal of traditional roles, the leisurely, discussion-loving Orientals pressed for speed while the brisk, action-loving Americans dragged their heels.
Anyone reading the Magic intercepts could be forgiven for deciding that Japan’s Foreign Office was suffering from fraying nerves. Toyoda dispatched another ominous and particularly disagreeable message to Nomura on October 10:
Slowly but surely the question of these negotiations has reached the decisive stage . . . and the situation does not permit of this senseless procrastination. . . . Yes, I know you have told me your opinions quite sufficiently in a number of messages, but what I want is the opinions of the American officials and none other. . . . Hereafter, when you interview Hull or the President of the United States, please take Wakasugi or Iguchi with you and please send me without any delay the complete minutes of what transpires.10
To instruct an ambassador to take along a keeper whenever he contacted the host government was an unparalleled insult, particularly between Japanese. The same day Nomura shot back an answer unusually blunt even for him, tinged with understandable asperity:
. . . I have repeatedly asked them to clarify what I do not understand, but they won’t answer. . . .
In other words, they are not budging an inch from the attitude they have always taken; however, they act is if they were ready to consider at any time any plans of ours which would meet the specifications of their answer of the 2nd.11
In the meantime, Toyoda informed Grew that on the third and again on the sixth he had instructed Nomura to talk to Hull on certain points. He added that he had heard from him only on October 9. Therefore, “a week of very valuable time had been wasted in an endeavor to elicit through the Japanese Ambassador information which, had it been received, would have measurably accelerated the present conversations. . . .” Toyoda knew better, but he needed to blame someone, and why not Nomura? Why couldn’t he handle the Americans or at least make clear what they wanted? Toyoda added, however, “that since he had the impression that the Japanese Ambassador in Washington was apparently very fatigued, serious consideration was being given to the question of sending to Washington a diplomat of wide experience to assist the Ambassador. . . .”12
Evidently it did not dawn on Toyoda that the American secretary of state was not at Nomura’s beck and call every minute and that when they did get together, Nomura did not have complete control of the conversation. If Roosevelt erred in assuming that the United States held the military initiative, the Japanese erred no less in assuming that the Americans would follow predictably Tokyo’s diplomatic lead.
Actually, by this time the Japanese-American discussions had lost all relevance to the factual situation. The real issue was time. The Japanese wanted results in a hurry—a quick and satisfactory settlement with the United States—or, failing that, time enough to embark on the Southern Operation and solidify their position rapidly so they could resist the onslaught of the United States when it came and also be prepared to strike at the Soviets in Siberia in the spring of 1942 should that prove desirable. Thus, from the strictly military point of view, the Japanese High Command was justified in insisting that a decision for war or peace be made by October 15. On the other hand, the United States hoarded every minute to improve its armed forces and strengthen its position in the Pacific. From Magic intercepts addressed not to Nomura, but to Japan’s diplomats in Asia and to a certain extent in Germany, selected members of the United States government knew that Japan was planning the conquest of Southeast Asia in the near future. If the Americans would stand aside and permit this, so much the better for Japan. If not, Japan would go ahead anyway.
That was the situation when at 1400 on Sunday, October 12, four members of the Japanese government met with Konoye at his private residence in Ogikubo: Foreign Minister Toyoda, War Minister Tojo, Navy Minister Oikawa, and President of the Cabinet Planning Board Suzuki. It was Konoye’s fiftieth birthday; however, they had come not to celebrate, but to discuss the critical subject of peace or war. Accounts of this meeting differ somewhat, but three points are beyond cavil: Japan would continue its operational preparations, Oikawa was not willing to saddle the Navy with the sole responsibility for the war, and if Konoye were not prepared to lead the nation in the conflict, he would have to make way for someone who would.13
Perhaps Toyoda still hoped against hope for a miracle before the torrent of events swept him out of office, for he dispatched a significant message to Nomura covering projected talks with Welles. “The situation at home is fast approaching a crisis and it is becoming absolutely essential that the two leaders meet if any adjustment of Japanese-U.S. relations is to be accomplished. I cannot go into details now, but please bear this fact in mind. . . .”14
It is clear why Toyoda could not “go into details.” If at this last minute Roosevelt agreed to meet with Konoye and set a definite date, the dramatic breakthrough would give the Cabinet a new lease on life. But if Washington realized how very tenuous a grasp Konoye retained on his office, neither the President nor any of his advisers would consider it further.
At 1600 on October 16 Konoye phoned Kido that he had collected letters of resignation from his Cabinet members. This came as a “great surprise” to Kido, who immediately informed the Emperor. At 1700 Hirohito received Konoye to accept his resignation. Half an hour later His Majesty conferred with Kido briefly about a new Cabinet.15
After this audience Kido had a long talk with Konoye. In Kido’s opinion, only Oikawa or Tojo offered a realistic choice as the new premier. The two statesmen agreed that the Emperor must command the man selected “to disregard the imperial conference decision of September 6 and reexamine the entire situation.” All things considered, Kido believed it better to place the responsibility squarely on the Army, which had precipitated the crisis. Possibly, too, if a Tojo government continued the talks in Washington, this might reassure the United States and bring about good results. This reasoning made sense to Konoye, who opted for Tojo, suggesting that the Emperor say a few words in favor of peace when he gave Tojo instructions to form a Cabinet. Tojo was famous for his passionate devotion to the throne, so neither Kido nor Konoye believed he would fail to respect the Emperor’s wishes.16
On Friday, the seventeenth, Hirohito summoned Tojo and ordered him to form a Cabinet.17 Although the general had precipitated the Cabinet crisis, there is no reason to believe that he brought down the Konoye government from any personal desire for the top job. The Japanese Army had always been well content to be the power behind the throne, sidestepping the ultimate responsibility. Kido had been clever when he recommended that Tojo as premier remain a general on active duty. For once, the Army would have to face the political consequences of its actions.
Tojo was not the stuff of which dictators or great leaders are made. He had none of Churchill’s magnificence, Roosevelt’s political acumen, Hitler’s evil genius, Mussolini’s extroverted dash, or Stalin’s peasant shrewdness. But he was rigidly disciplined, honest, and a team of draft horses for work. He had a sharp but narrow mind and was quite simply a successful general in an organization which discouraged flair and personality, the perfect instrument of Japan’s collective dictator—the Army.
The next day at mess aboard the flagship with his staff, Yamamoto, who had scant liking for Tojo, sounded off: “In this critical period Tojo has become premier. This is unsatisfactory. Even though he is bold, he doesn’t know the background of the situation and he will be unable to improve matters.”18
Of more direct interest to the Combined Fleet was the identity of the new navy minister. The finger of authority beckoned to Admiral Shigetaro Shimada, commander of the Yokosuka Naval Station. He had been in that post for only seven weeks, having just returned from the Asian mainland, where he had been in command of the China Area Fleet since May 1, 1940. So Shimada was quite out of touch with domestic politics.
On the credit side of the ledger, Shimada was sincerely devout, drank very little, smoked not at all, and was famed throughout the Navy for his devotion to his mother. He treated his subordinates with unusual kindness and consideration and spent Sunday mornings in visiting the families of those who had died in action. He had little temper and was good-natured and agreeable. These pleasing characteristics sprang spontaneously from a warmhearted, affectionate nature.19
To check over the debits, Shimada possessed a mind which, although alert, never plunged beneath the surface. Incorrigibly optimistic, he usually followed the line of least resistance and, despite his enormous self-confidence, seldom stood firmly on any subject. Behind his back many in the Navy called him Yurufun. Yuru means “loose”; fun is the light underwear Japanese wrestlers wear. The nearest American equivalent of this nickname might be Droopy Drawers. It implied, correctly, that Shimada sagged where he should support.20
Thus, at the very time when Japan needed a strong navy minister as never before, the Navy replaced a comparatively pliant one with a man even less qualified to stand up to Tojo.21 Although he was the Navy’s voice in the Cabinet, the navy minister by no means compared with Knox in his capacity as secretary of the navy. The navy minister was a full admiral on active duty, very much a part of the Navy itself, instead of a civilian holding both whip and checkrein. Thus, the Japanese Navy, like the Army, did not consider itself answerable to the civil government. This gave the Navy a large slice of uncontrolled power and helped build up the psychology, prevalent in both armed services, that the country existed to support the military, rather than vice versa.
In the wake of the Cabinet crisis the Japanese press made it unmistakably clear that Japan stood firm in its foreign policy. The official Japan Times and Advertiser blustered: “Japan is master of its own fate, has a free hand to proceed as it wills for the safeguarding of its own State. If it is necessary to fight America for that purpose, awful though even the thought of such a holocaust, Japan will not hesitate to defend its people and its interests. It has the power, the purpose and the plan. . . .”22 Unfortunately Japan also had the bad judgment to employ them in a reckless war it could not possibly win.