The thoughts and prayers of every loyal Japanese turned to Tokyo, where the “grand festival” of Yasukuni Shrine began on October 16. The Combined Fleet had been so busy that “the Harvest Thanksgiving Day was almost forgotten by all of the staff officers though I have no words to apologize,” as Ugaki wrote in his diary. They had been test-firing with real shells, and Ugaki reflected that “it will not be so far off before they are fired in succession to destroy the enemy. . . .”1
Aboard Akagi off southern Kyushu events began to boil. Kusaka and Genda had returned from the Nagato table maneuvers just as distressed as Yamaguchi over the prospect of using only three—possibly four—carriers against Pearl Harbor. But they were far more constructive in their reactions. They had haunting visions of going off to war unable to fulfill their mission and of running into more trouble than they could handle.
Genda had always favored an all-out attack. Now that Kusaka had promised Yamamoto his support, he, too, believed that if they must attack the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, they should use maximum aerial striking power. That meant six carriers. Urged on by Genda, Kusaka cornered Nagumo and forced him to be realistic. Although still averse to the entire scheme, Nagumo had everything to gain by securing as much offensive strength as possible. So he authorized Kusaka to go to Tokyo and hammer out the carrier problem with the Naval General Staff.
Before his departure Kusaka conferred alone with Genda. “If we are forced to accept their plan, what shall we do?” he asked. Genda replied that they could not possibly carry out the operation successfully with fewer than six carriers and that the First Air Fleet must absolutely insist on this point. To himself he reflected that if the Navy’s bigwigs would not budge, they might as well call off the Pearl Harbor attack.2
Kusaka left Akagi on October 17, prepared to give up his post if he did not succeed. Arriving in Tokyo the same day, he went straight to the offices of the Naval General Staff, where he presented his case to Tomioka and other members of the Operations Section. He insisted forcefully that six carriers must participate in the Pearl Harbor attack. “So long as the First Air Fleet is going to do the fighting,” he maintained, “it should have the tools for the job.”3
But Tomioka “took a very firm stand against six carriers.” Again he stressed that the top-priority Southern Operation required at least two of the First Air Fleet’s flattops. Moreover, the Naval General Staff believed that sending six carriers to Pearl Harbor would be too dangerous a concentration of Japan’s irreplaceable naval air power. If anything went wrong—and who could deny that possibility?—the Navy would lose most of its long-range scoring punch. The gamble was simply too great.4
Realizing that he was wasting his time, Kusaka soon left. But convinced that he was right, he neither resigned nor flew back to Akagi defeated and discouraged. He fired off a telegram to Yamamoto explaining briefly what had happened. Then he flew directly to Nagato for a conference.5
Yamamoto listened attentively as Kusaka emphasized that not only did the Naval General Staff deny the First Air Fleet the extra carriers, but its opposition to the Pearl Harbor attack remained widespread and stubborn. He even asserted that he thought Yamamoto’s own Combined Fleet officers had not backed him up strongly enough in his struggle with the top brass in Tokyo.
Then he reminded Yamamoto that at the end of September he had agreed to cease opposing the plan. At that time Yamamoto had given him every assurance of the combined Fleet’s support in his efforts to develop the project. “Commander in Chief, did you not assure me that the details of this plan would be placed under my supervision and every possible effort would be made to meet my requirements for the operation?” Kusaka asked courteously but firmly.6 The implication was clear. Now was the time for Yamamoto to make good his promise.
Yamamoto needed no urging. For some time he had been increasingly restive and worried. When Kusaka recounted the tale of his fruitless mission to Tokyo, Yamamoto realized that this was his chance to force the issue before the sands of time trickled to the bottom of the hourglass. “I will send someone to the Naval General Staff at once,” he told Kusaka.7
The very next morning, October 18, Kuroshima flew to Tokyo. His task was twofold: first, to secure the consent of the Naval General Staff to Operation Hawaii; secondly, to induce its members to allot the First Air Fleet’s six carriers to the mission. Yamamoto armed his personal emissary with a secret weapon and instructed him to use it if he had to.
Kuroshima found Tomioka in conference with Miyo, recently returned from the Nagato table maneuvers. Kuroshima announced at once that Yamamoto had sent him to Tokyo for the express purpose of “achieving immediately clarification” on the Pearl Harbor attack. Would it be approved in principle or not? he asked. If so, the First Air Fleet had to have six carriers for the mission. Time was running short, and Yamamoto needed an answer without delay.
Tomioka was not to be easily stampeded. He outlined the main reasons why he personally opposed Yamamoto’s plan: It posed a terrible risk, no one could be certain that the U.S. Fleet would be in Pearl Harbor, technical difficulties such as torpedo bombing and refueling at sea remained to be solved, the Navy lacked sufficient air strength for so many operations, and the scheme would jeopardize Japan’s all-important southern campaign by dividing its striking power.8 This was virtually a repetition of the points he had made to Kuroshima in July.
And just as in July, Kuroshima scarcely waited for Tomioka to finish before he excitedly countered with a barrage of Yamamoto’s best arguments. The U.S. Navy had enough strength concentrated at Pearl Harbor to strike the Japanese flank and endanger the success of the Southern Operation. In that invasion the Combined Fleet must divide into numerous units because it would have to execute simultaneous assaults over widespread areas. If the U.S. Fleet came out, the Japanese Navy could not reassemble its farflung forces in time to do battle successfully with the enemy in the western Pacific. What is more, no doubt the United States planned to seize the Marshall Islands. If this happened, Japan’s defensive perimeter would be pierced, and the strategical position of its Navy greatly weakened. One sure way existed to block this threat: Smash the striking power of the U.S. Navy at its source. Like Cato thundering against Carthage, Kuroshima insisted, “Pearl Harbor must be attacked!”9
But Tomioka stood his ground. Realizing that logic had availed him nothing, Kuroshima exploded the bomb his chief had given him. “Admiral Yamamoto insists that his plan be adopted. I am authorized to state that if it is not, then the Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet can no longer be held responsible for the security of the Empire. In that case he will have no alternative but to resign, and with him his entire staff.”10
Tomioka could scarcely believe his ears. Miyo, too, was amazed. Yet they could not doubt that Kuroshima spoke the literal truth. The threat of Yamamoto’s resignation introduced an entirely new dimension into the picture. Now Tomioka realized the full depth of Yamamoto’s determination to execute the attack, and he permitted his professional judgment to crumble before the onslaught of Yamamoto’s armored will.
Accordingly Tomioka told Kuroshima that he personally would agree to Yamamoto’s plan, but he imposed the following conditions: (1) Six and only six carriers would be used in the attack; (2) the Combined Fleet would make no further demands on Japan’s naval air strength; and (3) the First Air Fleet carriers would engage in the Southern Operation as soon as feasible after the Pearl Harbor attack.11
Kuroshima readily gave his word. But Tomioka wanted it in black and white, so Kuroshima brushed out his written promise. With this in hand and the threat of Yamamoto’s resignation still ringing in his ears, Tomioka took Kuroshima to see his immediate superior, Fukudome.12
Here, too, Kuroshima tried reasoning first. “The entire staff of the Combined Fleet,” he told Fukudome, “is confident of the practicability and the ultimate success of the Pearl Harbor attack.”13 As Fukudome described it, Kuroshima took a “very strong and positive” attitude and “virtually demanded that the Pearl Harbor operation be carried out.”14
Kuroshima had no better luck with Fukudome than he had had with Tomioka, for Fukudome by no means shared Yamamoto’s opinion on the subject of Operation Hawaii. And now, of course, he owed his first loyalty to Nagano. Therefore, Fukudome repeated the usual arguments against Yamamoto’s madcap scheme. He added, too, that failure would upset Japan’s entire war plan and react most unfavorably on all future operations15—a masterpiece of understatement.
Not to be denied, Kuroshima fired back that Yamamoto firmly believed that the all-important Southern Operation would not succeed unless the Japanese Navy first removed the threat posed by the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Hawaii. The Marshalls, which lay athwart the American path of advance, were not fortified strongly enough to offer a sufficiently protective barrier.16
Fukudome knew all these arguments by heart, and they impressed him no more now than they ever had. So, for the second time within an hour, Kuroshima hurled Yamamoto’s thunderbolt. Fukudome recognized raw, crackling power when he heard it. The Naval General Staff could not keep Yamamoto unless it accepted his plan. Fukudome took Kuroshima next door to Ito, vice chief of the Naval General Staff, who had just been promoted to vice admiral on October 15. Having been Yamamoto’s chief of staff from April 10 to September 1, he had a solid background in the Pearl Harbor planning. The enthusiasm of the Combined Fleet’s staff for Yamamoto’s grand design, however, had not rubbed off on him. Yet the urgency of the hour and Yamamoto’s undisguised threat called for a prompt judgment one way or the other. Therefore, he immediately ushered Fukudome and Tomioka to the top of the hierarchy. Kuroshima waited in Ito’s office until the other officers completed their session with Nagano.
In Nagano’s office Fukudome spoke first. He reviewed the basic discussions which had taken place so far on the Pearl Harbor plan between the Combined Fleet and the Naval General Staff, their essential points of disagreement, the major problems involved in such an operation, and Yamamoto’s stubborn insistence on its acceptance. Ito spoke next. He stressed the gravity of the hour and reminded Nagano that this question had been hanging fire for weeks. Now they had to reach a decision. He also emphasized Yamamoto’s threat to resign.17
Nagano’s colleagues tell us that he was a tired old man in October 1941. “When I could deliver a report without Nagano going to sleep, I considered it a very successful operation,” said Tomioka.18 To Nagano’s credit, however, he realized his limitations. He had remarked more than once to his colleagues that perhaps his job needed younger blood. Yet, according to Tomioka, “About the end or middle of October, he noticeably and conspicuously changed his attitude and position toward the crisis.”19 This is not surprising, for Nagano had been no dove of peace at the liaison conferences. He could expect that Shimada would give him even less trouble than had Oikawa, and the new premier, Tojo, was a convinced expansionist. No wonder Nagano felt a tingle of new energy. But it did not animate him to the extent of trying conclusions with Yamamoto.
Now Nagano listened without comment or question until Ito and Fukudome had presented their case. “I was for the plan of the Naval Affairs Department,” he testified, “as that seemed to be more logical but not to have the Commander of the Fleets resign, as he would have, if the plan did not go through. I thought the best thing to do was to approve.”20
So Nagano merely stated that Yamamoto had studied the problem more thoroughly than anyone else. Since he was so determined and had so much confidence in the ability of the Combined Fleet to carry out the attack, it was probably best to let him execute the operation.21 Nagano based his consent on two conditions: (1) The Pearl Harbor attack would not interfere in any way with the Southern Operation, and (2) nothing would be done to weaken the air strength of the Navy in its attack on the south.22
The officers then returned to Ito’s office, where Ito informed Kuroshima that Nagano had sanctioned the Pearl Harbor attack. Kuroshima’s heart pounded with joy. “Now Yamamoto and the staff of the Combined Fleet have been spared the embarrassment of resigning their positions,” he told Fukudome happily.23
Nagano’s authorization was not the final approval of the Naval General Staff. That came in early November, when Yamamoto’s plan was incorporated into Combined Fleet Operation Order No. 1. Even then, no one could be absolutely certain that Japan would actually go to war with the United States since the decision rested ultimately with the government. Nevertheless, with Nagano’s approval, the Japanese Navy had taken a very significant step. The long, bitter disputes, the ceaseless counterproposals, the agonizing hesitations came to an end. All concerned felt a new kinship and enthusiasm. “For the first time the members of the Naval General Staff began to feel as one with the Combined Fleet,” said Fukudome. “They now were free to exert every possible effort in helping Yamamoto and his officers work out the details of the operation.”24
The question inevitably arises: Did Yamamoto really mean to resign? Or was the threat that dedicated poker player’s supreme bluff? Indeed, it is difficult to picture Yamamoto, a patriot who loved his Emperor and homeland above all else, abandoning his post in his nation’s hour of need just because the Naval General Staff would not play the game by his rules.
Nagano might have turned Yamamoto down, ended the Pearl Harbor discussions once and for all, and—granted Yamamoto’s threat was sincere—have gotten rid of him and his whole school of thought at one stroke. Why did he not do so? Apparently the answer is that he never considered going to war against the United States without Yamamoto at the helm of the Combined Fleet. “The idea was inconceivable,” said Fukudome. “Although we in Tokyo were against the Pearl Harbor plan, Nagano had the utmost confidence in Yamamoto’s abilities and judgment. He finally agreed because he knew Yamamoto was not bluffing. If this seems strange, it must be remembered that Yamamoto’s position and influence in the Japanese Navy were unique. He was in truth a leviathan among men.”25
Shortly before 1300 on October 20 Nagato arrived in Saeki Bay from Morozumi Anchorage. Kusaka and his opposite number from the submarines, Mito, visited the flagship with the skipper of the new superbattleship Yamato. Kusaka reported on his recent trip to Tokyo, impressing Ugaki not at all. He recorded rather acidly in his diary: “Had he been so enthusiastic as this time in the previous conference with the General Staff, the issue would have easily been settled, but he was rather a troublemaker as he reversed his previous opinion. I think the Senior Staff Officer [Kuroshima] must have had a hard time. . . .”26
The next day, October 21, the Operations Section of the Naval General Staff discussed “orders and directives to be sent out prior to the outbreak of war,” which Uchida drafted. They also wound up the contingency combat plan for naval operations against the United States, Great Britain, and Holland. “It is expected that we are going to war on 8 December,” Uchida noted.27
Kuroshima returned from Tokyo on October 22 crowned with the victor’s laurels. When he told of the results, joy reigned aboard Nagato. Ugaki, no particular fan of Kuroshima’s under normal circumstances, recorded in his diary: “It was a great success that he could conclude an agreement for the ‘Amo’ operation [the Pearl Harbor project] as the Fleet wanted. It seemed that the Commander in Chief had made up his mind to resign from his post if this agreement could not be made.”28
But Yamamoto’s triumph would ring hollow unless the First Air Fleet could be ready before the fast-narrowing gap between the diplomatic situation and the war preparations closed altogether. Ugaki felt a bit sour toward that organization:
I judge that Yamamoto’s resolution was made clear to Nagumo the other day when the latter pressed Yamamoto for an answer concerning the operation. But Nagumo’s request was a bit too hasty, was it not? What the hell is the attitude of the First Air Fleet? In view of the fact that it has evaded Yamamoto’s plan from the beginning, it should have suggested others for the job since it could not control its subordinates.
That man Nagumo—not only does he have words with others but he is given to bluffing when drunk. Even now Nagumo is not fully prepared to send himself and his men into the jaws of death and achieve results two or three times greater than the sacrifices entailed. . . . If Nagumo and his Chief of Staff strongly oppose this operation, and feel they cannot carry it out, they should resign their posts.
Ugaki “expressed this idea to Yamamoto,” who agreed. But after thinking it over, he and his chief of staff decided “that such a step should be avoided as long as the situation permits. . . .” Yamamoto also indicated that with Ozawa just appointed to command the Southern Expeditionary Fleet on October 18, the Navy had “no other adequate candidate for that post. . . .”29
The idea of replacing Nagumo was not new to Yamamoto. Several days after Kusaka and Onishi visited Yamamoto to express their opposition to the Pearl Harbor project, Yamamoto had said to Watanabe, “If there are any admirals who oppose the Pearl Harbor plan, I will get rid of them and we will proceed with admirals who are agreeable to the plan.”30
The truth is, Yamamoto had no concrete reason to dismiss Nagumo. He had been a loyal and expert leader of the First Air Fleet. He never made any secret of his misgivings, but he had worked for his new fleet’s success with all his considerable ability and could show an excellent record of taut ships, high morale, solid training accomplishments. It would be a shocking injustice to fire him out of hand because he opposed an operation which any sensible man—Yamamoto included—had to admit offered many serious hazards.
No one could deny that Nagano’s permission to adopt the Pearl Harbor plan “in principle” left the strategic and tactical picture virtually unchanged. Approval did not guarantee success. What had been dangerous before remained dangerous. Despite Nagano’s final word, a widespread belief still existed that the plan should not and could not be executed.
Curiously enough, no one saw the problems inherent in the Pearl Harbor project more clearly than did Yamamoto himself. And nowhere did he open his heart and mind more completely than in a letter dated October 24 written to Navy Minister Shimada.31 First, Yamamoto frankly commiserated with Shimada on his appointment, declaring that he counted himself in such a crisis “extremely fortunate in being able to devote myself exclusively to affairs of the fleet.” Then he confided in Shimada his fears of the heavy losses Japan would sustain and his consequent determination to open the war with “a powerful air force strike deep at the enemy’s heart at the very beginning of the war and thus to deal a blow, material and moral, from which it will not be able to recover for some time.”
Obviously Yamamoto had studied his opposite number at Pearl Harbor and respected him, for he went on: “Judging from Admiral Kimmel’s character and the recent trend of thought in the American Navy, it does not appear to me likely that the American Navy will necessarily confine itself to the strategy of a steady frontal offensive.” In other words, he doubted that the enemy would obligingly plunge into the massed strength of the Combined Fleet as visualized in the Great All-Out Battle concept.
Yamamoto turned his attention to a possible American offensive, with all the grim results this might entail for his beloved country. Then he returned to the subject closest to his heart:
I have recently heard that there are some elements in the General Staff who argue that since the air operation to be carried out immediately upon outbreak of war was after all nothing more than a secondary operation in which the chance of success was about fifty-fifty, the use of the entire air force in such a venture was too risky to merit consideration.
But even more risky and illogical, it seems to me, is the idea of going to war against America, Britain, and China following four years of exhausting operations in China and with the possibility of fighting Russia also to be kept in mind and having, moreover, to sustain ourselves unassisted for ten years or more in a protracted war over an area several times more vast than the European war theater. If, in the face of such odds, we decide to go to war—or rather, are forced to do so by the trend of events—I, as the authority responsible for the fleet, can see little hope of success in any ordinary strategy. . . .
One can almost feel Shimada’s scalp begin to crawl. “These matters the senior staff officer of my fleet explained to the responsible authorities in Tokyo when he was there recently and obtained their approval,” Yamamoto continued. “But there seem to be some who have misgivings as to my character and ability as supreme commander.”
One wonders where Yamamoto got that idea. Naturally no such positive a personality ever moves through life without acquiring some enemies, yet the entire Naval General Staff had just collapsed at his threat of resignation. “The fact is,” he went on, “that I do not think myself qualified for the post of Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet, and besides, there is no time to think of one’s own interests in a time of such national emergency as the present.”
The first part of that sentence was Japanese politeness; the second part, pure Yamamoto. He therefore charged Shimada: “Please dispose of the various problems from the broad point of view and having regard to what I have set forth above.” Thus obliquely, Yamamoto told his classmate that if Shimada had to toss him overboard to win consent to the overall strategy, so be it.
When, at the time of the revision of operational plans for the Combined Fleet, I caused air operations in the initial stage of the war to be included therein, the state of my mind was that this operation was so difficult and so dangerous that we must be prepared to risk complete annihilation. . . .
War with America and Britain should still be avoidable when the overall situation is taken into consideration, and every effort should of course be made to that end. But I wonder whether Japan, having been driven into the present situation, has the courage and strength necessary to make such a change of attitude now. I fear with trepidation that the only thing that can save the situation now is the imperial decision.
Yamamoto had never studied psychology, but he knew his countrymen, knew how agonizing it was for a Japanese to admit a mistake. Unfortunately, as the Japanese Cabinet was even then discovering, the imperial wishes did not suffice to turn the tide.
Considering Yamamoto’s very real fears for the outcome of a Japanese-American-British war, one can only regret that he did not see and act upon the alternative available to him. If he had enough weight to force-feed the Pearl Harbor scheme to the Naval General Staff, he might have carried sufficient influence to persuade the Navy to refuse to sanction hostilities that offered so little prospect of victory. In that case diplomacy might have saved the day.
Instead, Yamamoto devoted his skill and energy to selling a plan which, although it seemed an improvement on the one it supplanted, never inspired wholehearted confidence, being at best a calculated risk, as Yamamoto himself admitted. Worse still, Yamamoto’s venture absolutely guaranteed that the United States would turn its full fury against Japan, destroying all possibility of a negotiated peace.
Exactly when Shimada learned about Pearl Harbor is not clear. While Yamamoto did not mention the subject by name in his letter of October 24, it is obvious from the phraseology that he knew Shimada would understand what he was talking about.
Yamamoto may have been testing Shimada’s reaction in case he did indeed decide to relieve Nagumo. He still had a lurking desire to lead the attack himself, as he confided briefly to Fuchida one day about this time.32 On the other hand, if he intended to put some starch into Yurufun and clear the decks for forceful naval action at Cabinet level, he failed lamentably. For Shimada was not the type to oppose Nagano, not to mention Tojo and Sugiyama. He would swim with the tide.