Lying about midway down the island of Etorofu, desolate Hitokappu Bay was an ideal hideout such as pirates might have used in an earlier day. About six miles wide and extending approximately the same distance inland, it provided ample anchorage and perfect concealment. The western shore was low, while the eastern consisted of high, steep bluffs with a narrow boulder beach. Except for a small cluster of shabby houses at Toshimoi—a dismal fishing village on the northern edge of the bay—and Uembetsu on the south, no buildings stood in the area. Heavy mists shrouded the waters when the task force arrived. Snow fell intermittently from black, wintry skies. A thick white blanket covered the beaches and the hills leading to Mount Onnenobori brooding in the distance.
For several days Nagumo’s task force had been slipping into the rendezvous. “At 1515 we anchored,” Chigusa recorded in his diary on November 22. “I shaved my long beard. Hitokappu Bay is occupied by powerful naval forces. Seeing these ships, I had a feeling of great confidence.” Chigusa did not yet know about Operation Hawaii.
Imaizumi knew that some big operation was afloat when he sailed into Hitokappu Bay with his three submarines. So many ships? What was going on? He found out when he and his three submarine skippers reported aboard Akagi. “You are to accompany the task force to Hawaii as an advance patrol,” Kusaka told him, handing over the necessary documents and instructions.1 This plan was later changed because of poor visibility and the difficulty of communicating between the main body of the task force and the submarines.
Last to enter was Kaga on November 22 with her treasure of modified torpedoes, greeted with double joy not only for her cargo but for her auspicious presence. Superstititious as seamen all over the world, Japanese sailors considered Kaga, which had seen successful action off the China coast in 1932 and 1937, a “victorious” ship.
On November 22 Nagumo summoned his staff, plus Fuchida, to an intelligence briefing by Suzuki, to be held at 2000 in a carefully guarded room aboard Akagi. There Nagumo kept the scale models of Pearl Harbor and Oahu, plus the collected data on the prospective targets. Besides the information in his fact-crammed brain, Suzuki brought with him the map which Kita had given him aboard the Taiyo Maru, a detailed sketch of Pearl Harbor and naval installations, a record of the number and kind of planes on Oahu with airfield and hanger capacities. According to Suzuki, these reports described Pearl Harbor and Oahu down to such details as the thickness of the hangar roofs.2
Suzuki repeated in substance what he had told the Naval General Staff. He outlined the general disposition of the U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, emphasizing in particular its habit of returning to base every weekend. He reported five groups of PBY flying boats—about sixty aircraft—at the Ford Island base, which provided hangar space as well as training and repair facilities for carrier-borne planes while their mother ships moored in Pearl Harbor. “There are additional PBYs at Kaneohe,” he added, “possibly fifty planes, also a hangar and mooring buoys, and a land base under construction for fighter planes. Barber’s Point does not have a hangar, but it is used as an operational base for carrier-borne planes. About eighty aircraft are in training there.” He emphasized that Hickam Field bristled with air power, estimating the striking force at about 40 four-engine bombers and approximately 100 twin-engine bombers.3
Actually Suzuki’s estimate, based on materials which Kita gave him in Honolulu, badly overshot the mark. Hickam Field housed only 12 heavy bombers (B-17Ds), and the Hawaiian Air Force had only 50 medium and light bombers (3 B-12s, 32 B-18s, 2 A-12s, and 12 A-20s), exactly half the number with which Suzuki credited it. All but the B-17s and A-20s were obsolescent types.4
Suzuki went on to describe the fighters, reporting some 200 P-40s, P-38s, and P-36s, with an additional 70 or so of other types. Obviously such an interceptor force could spoil the attack and inflict untold damage on the Japanese aircraft; the attackers would have to demolish the American pursuit planes on the spot. In fact, Suzuki’s estimate of U.S. fighter craft was inaccurate. Martin had a total of 152 fighters (99 P-40s, 39 P-36s, and 14 P-26s). All but the P-40s were obsolescent. In all, Suzuki reported 455 Army planes on Oahu, whereas in the whole territory the Hawaiian Air Force had only 227 military aircraft, including 13 observation planes.5
Suzuki next moved to American utilization of their aircraft. “United States planes are not in the habit of engaging in mass flights over Oahu,” he told the group. To Genda and Fuchida this indicated two important possibilities: The Japanese probably would not accidentally run into any large enemy training flights, and if they did, this no doubt would signify that the Americans had spotted the attackers and had risen to repel them. Therefore, every pilot must keep an eagle eye out for any sign of massive enemy air activity.
“United States air patrols are very good in the area south and southwest of Oahu, but generally inadequate to the north of the island,” Suzuki explained. This agreed with other intelligence reports and, of course, was most welcome news to Nagumo, who planned to approach Pearl Harbor from the north. “The Navy’s PBYs usually start their patrols around breakfast time and return before lunch,” Suzuki concluded. “Then they take off again and come back before sunset. On the basis of my own observations and the reports I collected in Honolulu, I feel reasonably sure that United States scouting planes do not begin their patrols before sunrise, nor do they continue such activity after sunset.”
This was top-priority intelligence—crucial for the potential success of Yamamoto’s plan. During the September war games the same information emanating from the Honolulu consulate had guided Yamamoto and his colleagues. Apparently the Americans had made little if any change in the patrol pattern since late summer. If everything went according to plan, Nagumo’s first attack wave would leave the carriers before the enemy began to patrol, giving the attackers an excellent chance of achieving success.
All during Suzuki’s report Nagumo sat motionless as an idol, his eyes transfixing the special agent. When Suzuki finished, Nagumo expressed deep concern about four problems: (1) the possibility of being discovered en route or in the target area; (2) the state of enemy alertness on Oahu; (3) the chances of finding the U.S. Fleet in Pearl Harbor; and (4) the probability of enemy retaliation. Suzuki could not hope to dispel all of Nagumo’s anxieties; he could only repeat what he had already told the Naval General Staff: The facts seemed to favor the task force.
The one sour note in Suzuki’s report was his lack of precise information about the United States carriers. Genda and Fuchida hurled eager questions at him: “How many carriers are at Pearl Harbor? What are their movements, routines, dispositions?” Suzuki had but sparse answers. “I personally did not see a single carrier,” he said, “but according to the latest reports, three are stationed at Pearl Harbor and move in and out of the area like the other ships of Kimmel’s command.”
This was correct as to number but inaccurate as to utilization. The unpredictable movements of the flattops were a constant headache to Yoshikawa.6 The unwelcome prospect of not finding the American flattops conjured up a whole series of questions: If they proved to be out of harbor, would the attack go forward as planned or should the task force first scour the area in search of the missing vessels? If the First Air Fleet encountered one or more American carriers en route, should it attack on sight or wait for the green light from Tokyo?
Predictably Genda and Fuchida agreed to attack as planned, carriers or no carriers. If they crossed the task force’s path on the way, existing circumstances must decide the issue, although both airmen inclined toward striking them whenever and wherever found. As they saw it, after Nagumo’s ships left Hitokappu Bay, hostilities could break out at any time. The prospect of American carriers on the loose pleased Nagumo not at all. Throughout the ensuing days these ships haunted his mind, conditioning his thinking and actions as no other single problem.
Suzuki could offer no reassurance one way or the other, and his report might well be the last direct information they received. “We realized,” as Kusaka put it, “that the flow of military intelligence from Honolulu to Tokyo could be cut off any moment while we were en route to Hawaii. We were also aware that even though the Naval General Staff might receive new information on Pearl Harbor, there was always the possibility that it could not reach us in the northern Pacific in time to be useful on the morning of the attack.”7
Nagumo might have been grimly satisfied had he known that his own flattops were just as worrisome to the United States Navy as theirs to him. Combat Intelligence had completely lost track of the First, Second, and Fifth Carrier Divisions and never found them until after the attack.8
Despite its gaps, Suzuki’s report had immense value, confirming the factors upon which the Japanese had prepared their planning. Nevertheless, it left Nagumo still bedeviled by all his original misgivings. Kusaka, who by no stretch of the imagination “tingled with optimism,” admitted that it had a sobering effect on him, too. Fear of American air power on Oahu was the most important reason why Nagumo and his chief of staff agreed between them that the Pearl Harbor strike must be a one-shot attack.9
“I suppose those who are sailing in the north feel a sudden cold,” Ugaki entered in his diary the next day, November 23, Japanese time, as a chill windstorm raged outside Nagato.
. . . Should the U.S. know anything about our present resolution, she could not keep herself from taking measures against us. We have no time to lose. . . .
Since we haven’t the slightest idea of changing our mind, all things depend upon the U.S. attitude. Should the U.S. abandon the idea that she, being the watchdog of the world, can have everything go on as she wants, she can be saved. If she cannot realize this, it can’t be helped. . . .
The same day Yamamoto addressed a final meeting of Army and Navy leaders at Tokuyama. “If the negotiations with the United States turn out to be successful,” he stressed, “I will order the forces back before 0100 December 7. Upon this order each ship must withdraw immediately.” This cut the margin very fine, and some of the commanders braved the lightning to complain that it was a “damned difficult order practically impossible to carry out.” Thereupon Yamamoto thundered, “The purpose of establishing and training the Armed Forces for the past hundred years was only to maintain peace. If any officer here thinks he cannot obey, I order him here and now not to participate in this operation. And I demand that he resign at once.”10
Few, if any, such scruples appeared to trouble Togo. With one foot he applied brakes to Nomura, halting every constructive suggestion, and with the other he stepped on the gas, urging the ambassador to continuous action within the deadline. “There are reasons beyond your ability to guess why we want to settle Japanese-American relations by the 25th . . .” he informed Nomura on November 22. Still, he extended the cutoff date to November 29. “This time we mean it, that the deadline absolutely cannot be changed. After that, things are automatically going to happen.”11
In this emergency the State Department’s policy was “to grab at every straw in sight” to gain time and keep the conversations alive. From November 21 through 25 Hull and his associates “made a desperate effort to get something worked out that might stay the hand of the Japanese armies and navies for a few days, or a few weeks. . . .”12 One of the suggestions from which Hull worked originated with Harry Dexter White, a Treasury Department expert in international money matters. Morgenthau found it of sufficient merit to forward to Roosevelt and Hull. Neither Morgenthau nor White had access to Magic, so they could not know how far the Japanese had already committed themselves.13
While the Army and Navy had reservations about specific portions of Hull’s modus vivendi, both Stark and Gerow, speaking for Marshall, who was taking a few days’ rest in Florida, agreed that “the document was satisfactory from a military viewpoint.”14 In his memorandum to Stimson of November 21, Gerow explained that “adoption of its provisions would attain one of our present major objectives—the avoidance of war with Japan. Even a temporary peace in the Pacific, would permit us to complete defensive preparations in the Philippines and at the same time insure continuance of material assistance to the British. . . .” He added forcefully, “War Plans Division wishes to emphasize it is of grave importance to the success of our war effort in Europe that we reach a modus vivendi with Japan.”15
But others did not agree, and the plan came to nothing because of the frantic protests of the Chinese, which Churchill seconded.16 Between the very remote chance of purchasing a few weeks’ time from Japan and the certainty of losing China, the choice was not difficult.
These frustrating events in Washington coincided with redoubled interest in Combat Intelligence at Pearl Harbor. Kimmel commented on the movements which Rochefort’s summary “specifically notes . . . as the forerunner of operations, judging from past experience. . . .” At Kimmel’s direction Rochefort initiated a message to Naval Operations and Cavite,17 stressing that the Japanese “were engaged in a major operation, which would start in the immediate future, and that it was composed generally of two task forces. . . .” He gave the location, composition, and general heading, advising that there appeared to be “a very strong concentration in the Marshalls . . . at least one third of the submarines, and at least one carrier division unit. . . .” The Cavite unit agreed with most of Rochefort’s findings, except for the location of the carrier division, because it had insufficient evidence to indicate that there were carriers in the Marshalls.18
While U.S. Combat Intelligence tried to track down Hirohito’s fleet units, the Japanese were equally interested in American forces. Ugaki had ordered an operations map colored and pinned to his wall. He sat staring at it this cloudy November 24. Wherever his eyes rested, he saw “enemy forces in red marked everywhere. The Pacific is so vast!” Now that Japan’s ships were actually deploying, Ugaki suffered a qualm or two. “Should things go on as planned, there will be nothing left to be hoped for, but . . . our plan from its beginning . . . inclined somewhat to wishful thinking,” he admitted to his diary. As usual, however, Ugaki slapped away the importunate fingers of doubt. “Anyway, since this war is planned against heavy odds, we can scarcely go to war if we take each of them too seriously. What we need are a strong drive to push through, a readiness to meet any change, and to do our best to the last.”19
On November 24 Stark addressed a top secret estimate to Kimmel and Hart:
Chances of favorable outcome of negotiations with Japan very doubtful. This situation coupled with statements of Japanese Government and movements their naval and military forces indicate in our opinion that a surprise aggressive movement in any direction including attack on Philippines or Guam is a possibility. Chief of Staff has seen this dispatch concurs and requests addressees to inform senior Army officers their areas. Utmost secrecy necessary in order not to complicate an already tense situation or precipitate Japanese action.20
Despite its classification, this message contained little that Kimmel and Hart did not already know. For their own Combat Intelligence units were providing Washington with information on precisely the Japanese movements cited in this dispatch, although, of course, Washington had other authoritative sources.
Undoubtedly Kimmel would have reacted vigorously could he have followed all the Magic intercepts between Tokyo and the Honolulu consulate, particularly the “bomb plot” message of September 24 and those which followed, such as the professional summation of fleet activities by type which Yoshikawa prepared and which Kita dispatched on November 24.
This report confirmed that the U.S. Navy had virtually abandoned Lahaina as a capital ship anchorage, advised that Kimmel’s submarines would probably be in harbor on Saturday and Sunday, and gave the Japanese an excellent idea of just where the American ships most likely trained at sea—the battleships “to the south of Maui or to the southwest,” the heavy cruisers “doubtless going to Samoa,” and the light cruisers seemingly to Panama. But not a word concerning the training area of Kimmel’s elusive carriers.21
It is unfortunate that Kimmel, Layton, and Bicknell, as well as Short and his intelligence advisers, did not have the opportunity to read such messages. No one who knew Kimmel well could doubt that he would have done his best to spike Kita’s guns despite Washington’s disinclination to rock the boat, even if only by raising such a storm that no member of the consulate would have dared look at anything larger than a rowboat. For at this stage Japan, too, wanted no overt trouble on Oahu lest the Americans raise their guard. As usual, the message went to Washington by mail, so the Army could not translate it until December 16.
Roosevelt and his advisers wanted peace with Japan as long as possible, but every thoughtful newspaper reader in the United States knew that matters had reached a critical stage. As Stimson later wrote indignantly:
. . . one would get the impression that the imminent threat of war in October and November 1941 was a deep secret, known only to the authorities in Washington who kept it mysteriously to themselves. Nothing could be further from the truth . . . the imminence of war with Japan was a matter of public knowledge and the people were being warned time and time again of the danger which was approaching.22
But they were not warned of the danger approaching Hawaii for the simple reason that nobody in Washington knew or suspected it. That included the President, who expected almost anything from the Japanese, although he was uncertain what they actually would do.
Japanese-American relations dominated a meeting of Roosevelt and his War Council held at noon on November 25. As Stimson described it, the President “brought up the event that we were likely to be attacked perhaps next Monday, for the Japs are notorious for making an attack without warning, and the question was what we should do. The question was how we should maneuver them into the position of firing the first shot without allowing too much danger to ourselves.”23
Hull could offer no hope of a peaceful solution. “The Japanese are heavily armed, and they have been on this movement of conquest for a number of years, yoked hard and fast with Hitler most of the time. The Japanese are in control of the whole situation, we are not. . . .” Thus, Hull pinpointed the crux of the matter, something which Roosevelt never understood or, if he did, never admitted.
“The Japanese are likely to break out at any time with new acts of conquest by force,” the secretary of state continued. “The question of safeguarding our national security lies in the hands of the Army and the Navy.” This was a simple statement of fact; Hull did not intend to imply that the State Department “had relinquished its constitutional functions of continuing through diplomacy to try to preserve peace.”
Hull ended by stating that in his judgment, “any plan for our military defense should include an assumption that the Japanese might make the element of surprise a central point in their strategy. They might attack at various points simultaneously with a view to demoralizing efforts of defense and of coordination for defense.”24 Hull had described Japanese strategy to perfection. But he did not anticipate that one of the “various points” which Japan would strike would be Pearl Harbor. On this score he had loads of company.
Stimson’s well-known statement about “firing the first shot” forms the keystone of the so-called revisionist school of thought. Lifted out of context, it gives an entirely erroneous impression. No one who has examined the great mass of historical evidence on Pearl Harbor can doubt that the United States wanted to maintain peace with Japan for as long as possible. The government wished to remain free to assist Britain and defeat Hitler, even if this put the country in the position of bolstering Stalin.
Make no mistake about it, Japan was going to war, and those with access to Magic knew it. The problem, therefore, was not to maintain peace or war—that was already out of American hands. Not even all of Roosevelt’s Cabinet, let alone Congress and the American people, knew the picture shaping up through Magic, and they could not be told the whole inside story without jeopardizing that infinitely precious source of information. So, as Stimson later wrote, “it was desirable to make sure that the Japanese be the ones to do this [fire the first shot] so that there should remain no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who were the aggressors.”25
Certainly the Japanese needed no encouragement from Washington to open hostilities. They had no intention of doing otherwise, unless, of course, they could achieve their expansionist goals through an American diplomatic surrender—within four days. But by this time that was manifestly impossible. For in exactly four hours from the commencement of this War Council meeting, Nagumo’s task force was to sortie from Hitokappu Bay on its way to fire that first shot.*