The afternoon sun of December 7 receded into the fast-darkening sky of an equally fast-darkening world. At 1300 Nagumo had sent off to the Combined Fleet a hasty estimate of damage inflicted.1 Shortly thereafter “all forces turned to the north at 26 knots.”2 But the task force was by no means safe yet, and Nagumo knew it. For better or worse, he had decided to retire, but would the enemy let him do so? What about the elusive American carriers and heavy cruisers? So once again he clamped radio silence over his ships. At 1715 he put the task force on all-out alert, ordering an aircraft patrol of the full 360-degree circle to a distance of 300 miles, to take off at dawn the next day. He added, “Make level bombers ready for torpedoing and dive bombing, and stand by for further orders.”3
As one might expect, Genda viewed this patrol as a potential measure of the offensive. If, after all, Nagumo decided to launch a second attack, it would take place early the next morning. However, a major strike was impossible without confirming the location of the American carriers.4
As the First Air Fleet moved northward, Fuchida instructed all officers to develop their attack photographs at once for study in preparing a final assessment of damage inflicted. Courier planes from the other five carriers landed aboard Akagi, bringing data from their attack units. By late afternoon he had all the prints. The flight leaders studied them most of the night, and the next morning Fuchida turned in his battle report.5
Nagumo signaled to his command a few words of mingled praise and caution: “Brilliant success was achieved for our country through the splendid efforts of you men. But we still have a great way to go. After this victory we must tighten the straps of our helmets and go onward, determined to continue our fight until the final goal has been won.”6
The morning of December 8 Nagumo dispatched the light cruiser Abukuma and the destroyer Tanikaze to Supply Group One at the rendezvous point following final refueling before the attack. The two ships reached the tankers at about 2100, quickly refueled, and returned with them to the First Air Fleet.
Two or three of Nagumo’s dawn patrol planes lost their bearings, ran out of fuel, and had to ditch, but destroyers picked up most of the airmen. A tanker fished out one reconnaissance pilot from Soryu and kept him aboard for the remainder of the homeward voyage. Those scouts who returned safely brought negative reports. So at 1530 Nagumo flashed to his command: “As a result of the air scouting, no enemy sighted within 300-mile circle. Be ready for the immediate use of 26 knots.”7
Henceforth the narrative of the voyage returns to Japanese time unless otherwise indicated. Not until Wednesday, the eleventh, did Omori feel sufficiently assured to call his screening force staff together aboard his flagship Abukuma for a formal toast to celebrate their success.8 By then news of the landings in Malaya and the unexpectedly good results of the air raids on Clark Field in the Philippines had poured more wine into the brimming cup of victory. They all relaxed in high spirits as they “celebrated with wild rejoicing” Japan’s string of initial triumphs.9
One day on the homeward voyage Lieutenant Zenji Abe remarked to Nagumo, “It was said according to the radio that Admiral Kimmel had his head cut off.” Nagumo’s face fell, and he answered with a deep sigh, “I feel I have done a very sorry thing to him.” Abe hastened to assure the admiral that he had spoken figuratively—Kimmel would be dismissed from his post, not executed. Abe had always respected Nagumo “for his noble character”; now, when he saw him “paying his sympathy to the enemy commander,” Abe’s admiration doubled.10
Soon a cloud of another nature appeared on Nagumo’s horizon. At 2100 on December 9 he received Combined Fleet Order No. 14: “If the situation permits, the task force will launch an air raid upon Midway Island on its return trip and destroy it completely so as to make further use of it impossible.”11
The Marine garrison at Midway had received word of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Consequently, the officers and men there were on the alert and had beaten off Konishi’s Midway Neutralization Unit. His shells inflicted a certain amount of damage; they also killed four men and wounded ten.12
When the Combined Fleet received the radioed report of the Midway Neutralization Unit, Ugaki proposed that Yamamoto’s staff reassess the possibility of attacking the atoll again. Two methods presented themselves: (1) Send back the two destroyers, or (2) order Nagumo’s task force to strike Midway on its return voyage.13 Because the destroyers had already proved ineffectual, the second course was the obvious choice.
The situation had its peculiar aspects. The principal reason for the Midway operation had been to protect the task force’s route homeward. Now, in effect, Combined Fleet Headquarters was asking the First Air Fleet to turn aside from its retirement course and protect itself. This order irritated Kusaka, who considered it “like requesting a sumo wrestler who beat down a sumo champion to get a radish on his way back from his victorious ring.”14 Genda likewise opposed this move because he believed that the risks inherent in betraying the task force’s position outweighed any possible benefits. Nagumo liked the Midway project no more than did his chief of staff and air officer, and to complicate matters, the weather was giving his ships a fearful beating.15
Genda had Midway very much on his mind, but not in connection with an isolated, somewhat pointless sideswipe on the way home. While the First Air Fleet cruised some 700 miles north of Midway, he offered Nagumo his newest plan: Sail to Truk for necessary overhaul, draw additional supplies, take on board several regiments of Army and Navy troops from the Marshalls and Carolines, and head back eastward. These forces could take Wake, Midway, and Johnston, thus forming a bridge across the Pacific for eventual seizure of the Hawaiian Islands and the ultimate destruction of the U.S. Pacific Fleet.
Genda believed that now was the time to put this daring scheme into operation, while the U.S. forces on Oahu still reeled from the shock of Pearl Harbor and American defenses of these outposts were at their weakest. To his thinking, occupation of Hawaii was necessary to control the central Pacific and achieve final victory. He also wanted to deny use of these islands to the United States as submarine bases. And he was sure that such a move against Midway and Johnston would smoke out the missing American carriers, which he was determined to find and destroy. With this strategy in mind, he did not favor turning aside to strike Midway.
At first Nagumo bent a receptive ear to Genda’s ambitious plan. His self-confidence seemed to grow in proportion to the number of nautical miles between him and Pearl Harbor.16 In Tokyo, too, a few days after the Pearl Harbor attack, several officers, including Maeda and Captain Yamaguchi, discussed the possibility of returning to Hawaii. These men believed that Japan should push its immediate advantage to the hilt. So they, with Ogawa, took up the matter with Fukudome and Tomioka.
The intelligence officers argued their case eloquently, along much the same lines that Genda presented to Nagumo. The Americans would have to mount and supply any defense of Hawaii all the way from the West Coast. Not only would quick occupation deprive Japan’s major enemy of its most powerful military springboard in the Pacific, but it would also prevent repair of the ships damaged but not completely destroyed in the Pearl Harbor raid. The United States would also experience extreme difficulty in reinforcing Australia without the Hawaiian Islands as an intermediate base. And Japan could use to advantage the magnificent yards and depots on Oahu. Once more the intelligence experts urged that this operation be undertaken immediately, before the United States could gear its immense potential to military retaliation.
Although not unsympathetic to the aims of the proposal, Fukudome replied that the operation was not feasible. It would require a good 500,000 tons of shipping and a huge tanker fleet, which could not be spared from operations already in progress. Both he and Tomioka pointed out that they had no plan prepared for the occupation of Oahu, and makeshift, improvised measures held too many dangers. Suppose they did succeed in landing and even setting up a substantial garrison? The island would be highly vulnerable to American submarine and air attack. Moreover, Hawaii was not self-sufficient; Japan would have to feed the native population along with its own occupation forces. No one could deny the strategic value of the Islands, but at the moment obtaining the rich resources of Southeast Asia took priority. Later Japan might consider the plan, but for the time being the Operations Section of the Naval General Staff emphatically vetoed it.17
In the northern Pacific the wind increased steadily throughout December 12 and 13. Heavy seas and the worst swells experienced during the entire operation buffeted the carriers, washing overboard several of Hiryu’s crew. Akagi pitched and rolled so steeply that planes could not possibly take off or land. The relentless pounding sprang numerous leaks in Nagumo’s ships. Under the circumstances the admiral seized upon the qualifying phrase “as far as the situation permits” in his attack orders and called off the Midway strike.18
Although Nagumo’s decision disappointed Ugaki, the Combined Fleet made no objection. It had another and more pressing need for Nagumo’s airmen—Wake Island. So far the skill and daring of the combined air and ground defenses had proved too much for the would-be invaders, and Captain Yano, chief of staff of the Fourth Fleet, asked Combined Fleet Headquarters for a carrier to provide direct air cover. So Yamamoto ordered Nagumo to send the Second Carrier Division to Kajioka’s aid.19 In view of these new instructions, Nagumo abandoned any idea he may have entertained of fully backing Genda’s plan to sail to Truk and then return via the island chain to Oahu.
Accordingly on December 16 Nagumo ordered his heavy cruisers Tone and Chikuma, the carriers Soryu and Hiryu, and the destroyers Tanikaze and Urakaze to break off from the task force to attack Wake. Nagumo’s radio to the Fourth Fleet at Truk clearly indicates that this detachment would not be able to make an all-out effort: “The task force cannot afford full cooperation because of the fuel problem. . . . As those forces cannot stay in the area for a long time, it must be understood that the force will retire from the area after making a single air raid on the enemy force and installation.”20
The deadeye horizontal bombardier Kanai, credited with the amazing strike that exploded Arizona, was among those who attacked Wake. As if in vengeance for his deed at Pearl Harbor, the American defenders shot him down. His death was a serious blow to the Japanese Navy, which needed every one of its combat-tested airmen. Some of the pilots disapproved of the Wake operation or at least the First Air Fleet’s part in it.21 Abe pointed out after the war that the Japanese could not inflict a decisive blow against the United States at such an isolated outpost. At that early date they could only give a valuable preview of Japanese strategy and tactics to the Americans, who could thus learn how to cope with them.22
Meanwhile, Nagumo had been holding off sending his final damage report to the Combined Fleet until he considered his ships safely out of Hawaiian waters. Then, on December 17, he dispatched Battle Report No. 1. Considering the visual difficulties over the target area, Fuchida and the other observers had done a surprisingly good job of assessing results of the attack. The Japanese mistakenly credited themselves with an oil tanker destroyed and five more cruisers damaged than they actually hit, and they overlooked Pennsylvania, Oglala, Vestal, and Curtiss. Estimates of aircraft destruction fell much wider of the mark. Nagumo reported approximately 450 set afire and many others damaged in strafings and bombings or shot down in combat.
He added to his report, “. . . it is certain that, in addition to this, the Special Attack Unit of the Advance Force inflicted much damage by its bravest attack. . . .”23 He had no shred of evidence to substantiate this statement, which was entirely false, but no doubt it pleased Yamamoto and Ugaki, both firm supporters of those gallant but ineffectual young submariners.
Watanabe wrote of the mixed feelings Nagumo’s battle report engendered aboard Nagato upon its receipt on December 17:
When this report first reached the Combined Fleet, the staff was very pleased and felt that the damage against Pearl Harbor and the lack of damage to the task force exceeded our expectations. Upon reexamination of the damage report, it was not so favorable as had been at first supposed. This was largely because Nagumo’s force had not located the U.S. carriers. It was believed, nevertheless, that the Southern Operation could be carried out successfully during the period when the United States would be repairing its Pearl Harbor damage.24
And that had been the object of the attack in the first place. Reactions could be boiled down to the phrase “mission accomplished.”
Nagumo’s task force continued to make good time homeward. From the eighteenth on, the weather improved. On that day Chigusa recorded in his diary: “Patrol planes fly all day but get no information about submarines. . . . In the evening had a signal from the flagship that an enemy submarine was coming from the north and we might have a chance to meet it. . . .” But the chance did not materialize, for the excellent reason that no American submarines lurked in the area. Even so, such suspected sightings kept Kusaka, in charge of evasive movement, on the jump.
The same day Ugaki wrote a brief diary item concerning two Japanese submarines which collided “at night while patroling near Wake Island, both sinking instantly. That island is almost bewitched. . . .” Bewitched or not, it was doomed. Rear Admiral Koki Abe’s detachment from the First Air Fleet made its initial strike on the atoll on December 21, assisting heavy reinforcements from the Fourth Fleet. When they pulled out on the afternoon of the twenty-third, Kajioka had claimed Wake for Japan, rechristening it Otori Shima (Bird Island).25
Meanwhile, the main body of the First Air Fleet continued westward. “A sea patrol plane flew over our forces,” noted Chigusa on December 19. “It seems we are nearing Japan.” Two days later Supply Group Two met the task force as directed and emptied the remainder of its fuel supply into the warships. On December 21 seven ships of the Twenty-first and Twenty-seventh Destroyer Squadrons from Tokuyama joined the First Air Fleet as additional protection against undersea danger. The next day half of Nagumo’s serviceable planes whipped off their carrier decks and winged ahead to their home bases. The rest followed a day later.26
At 0600 on December 23 General Quarters sounded with Condition Two prevailing. “At last comes the day when we arrive back at the homeland,” Chigusa wrote happily in his diary. At 0930 the task force went to Condition One readiness. “In the air above our forces many airplanes flew like birds,” Chigusa continued. “Patrol ships belonging to the coast defense force patrolled on both sides of our forces.” Even Kusaka with his marble calm thrilled as each passing vessel hoisted its flag in respect and sent congratulations to Akagi.27
The First Air Fleet dropped anchor in Hiroshima Bay at 1830. Ugaki immediately went to Akagi to welcome Nagumo and Kusaka and to chat briefly about the operation. Nagumo told him that everything had gone so favorably they could not help believing in the grace of God, and he especially commended the personnel of the supply train for their devoted skill. He pointed out, however, that the strict radio silence had made it difficult for him to keep the ships together.
Apparently Kusaka got a few sharp words off his chest, for Ugaki noted, “The order to make an air raid upon Midway Island on the way back, although it was sugar-coated by the condition of ‘as far as the situation permits,’ made the Chief of Staff angry as an individual.”28
Early the next morning Nagumo and a party of his officers visited Nagato to pay their respects to Yamamoto. Nagano himself appeared at about 0930, beaming like a harvest moon. In response to eager requests, Nagumo amplified his radioed battle report. Around 1100 the party adjourned to Akagi, where praises showered upon the men of the First Air Fleet. Photographers’ bulbs flashed as various groups posed for the inevitable pictures.
Although obviously in good spirits, Yamamoto stood slightly apart from the exuberant conviviality and mutual backslapping. “You men trained hard and patiently, and your operation against Pearl Harbor was a great success,” he told the celebrating victors. “You must remember, however, that in spite of this important victory, we have only entered upon the first stage of this war and we have only completed one operation. You must guard scrupulously against a smug self-satisfaction with this initial success. There are many more battles ahead. I hope that you will continue in the same way to give your best to all coming tasks.”
In less formal staff room festivities following Yamamoto’s speech, sake flowed freely, and the stay-at-homes plied the returning conquerors with questions. Fuchida was the lion of the hour. Before he could fully satisfy one interrogator, another snatched him away. Nagano bestowed hearty congratulations upon him and exchanged his brimful sake cup with the flight leader as a sign of honor and camaraderie. Yamamoto presented Fuchida with a beautiful kakemono about four feet long inscribed in his own masterful calligraphy with this tribute: “The message of attack reaches my ears from more than 3,000 miles away—a message from Hawaii. Thinking of Flight Leader Fuchida’s brilliant action on the early morning of December 8, so writes Isoroku Yamamoto.”29
Most signal honor of all, the Pearl Harbor raiders learned that the Emperor wished to hear the account of the operation directly from those who had led the attack.30 Nagano therefore arranged a strictly off-the-record audience with the Emperor for himself, Nagumo, Fuchida, and Shimazaki.
Fuchida and Shimazaki worked together on their reports. Fuchida would relate to His Majesty the story of the strike on the United States ships; then Shimazaki would brief Hirohito about the attack on the air bases. Because Shimazaki was far handier with the controls of an aircraft than with brush and paper, Fuchida had to write both reports.
Shortly after 1000 on December 26 Fuchida stood face-to-face with the man to whom he had dedicated his life. Later he admitted that leading the Pearl Harbor attack was much easier than telling the Emperor about it. With trembling fingers he spread out the large map of Oahu which he had prepared for the occasion. As protocol demanded, he addressed his remarks to the Emperor’s aide, Major General Shigeru Hasunume, who relayed the story to Hirohito, translating it into the highly stylized court phraseology which was virtually a different language from standard Japanese. Despite this handicap, Fuchida noted with satisfaction that he held the imperial attention.
His Majesty examined closely the pictures and damage charts with which Fuchida illustrated his briefing. The Emperor asked a number of pertinent questions: On what basis were the damage estimates compiled? How accurate did Fuchida consider them? Were any civilian planes shot down? Were any hospital ships in the harbor? What was the initial reaction of the Americans? Were any Japanese planes shot down because they could not make it back to the carriers?
Fuchida’s replies were equally crisp and to the point. Both Emperor and airman became so interested that time slipped by until Fuchida’s allotted fifteen minutes had more than doubled. Shimazaki next took his turn, stammering out a brief description of the damage done to Oahu’s airfields, only too happy to take no more than his scheduled ten minutes.
After a few questions from the Emperor a heavy silence fell for so long that Nagano started to rise. Suddenly Hirohito inquired, “Was any damage inflicted other than on ships, planes, and airfields?” Nagano asked Fuchida to answer. In his earnestness addressing His Majesty directly—a lapse of etiquette that was graciously overlooked—Fuchida replied in the negative. The airmen had been specifically instructed to bomb only military targets. As the Emperor prepared to rise, terminating the briefing, he said, “We would like to have the pictures remain in the palace as we wish to show them to Her Imperial Majesty the Empress.” After this he retired from the room, to the deep bows of those who remained.
Fuchida knew he would never forget this day when he had been under the same roof with his Emperor, heard him speak, and spoken to him—the highest honor to which any Japanese could aspire. Yet a certain strain had hung over the interview. His Majesty had displayed the interest of a naval man in a great naval operation, the concern of a decent man for noncombatants, the instinct of a family man to share an experience with his wife. But he had shown no signs of exultation.
The frenzy of sudden fame engulfed Nagumo and Kusaka. Henceforth in Japanese history and in Japanese hearts these two officers would be linked forever—the admirals who had attacked Pearl Harbor. Yamamoto, too, had earned a place in Japan’s naval Valhalla. He could take personal pride in the thought that he had pushed through his operation in the face of all opposition. Yet he knew only too well that one victory, no matter how spectacular, would not win the Pacific war.
Moreover, a special worry nagged at him. An honorable man, he had insisted that Japan’s final diplomatic note be delivered before the strike on Pearl Harbor began. He delineated sharply between “a strategic surprise attack” and “a political sneak attack.” After the event, when United States broadcasts castigating Japan for the “sneak attack” began to come in, Yamamoto is said to have called for an inquiry. A subsequent probe revealed that the note transmitted by the fourteen-part message of December 6–7 had been delivered to the State Department, but not exactly when. This worried Yamamoto, and he seemed “to have an unpleasant feeling about it.”31 Apparently no one told him that fifty-five minutes had elapsed between the commencement of hostilities and official submission of the final note to Hull.
It is scarcely likely that the Foreign Ministry would have cooperated wholeheartedly in Yamamoto’s investigation. And it is questionable that full knowledge would have troubled him overmuch beyond one of his sudden explosions of anger because his expressed wishes had been ignored. He was not the man to chew the cud of the irreversible past.
Furthermore, the Japanese government never intended that the timing make any material difference; it was strictly a formalistic bow toward the conventions. Tokyo had left no margin for error. Irrespective of its legality, Japan’s lightning thrust against Hawaii gave it control of the entire central and western Pacific. Now it could invade the El Dorado of the South without fear of the U.S. Navy’s piercing it on the flank. The Rising Sun had never vaulted so high into the heavens. As surprised and amazed as the rest of the world, the Japanese stood in awe of their own achievements.
Ushering in the seventeenth year of his reign in accordance with age-old tradition, the Emperor proclaimed to his people the topic for the annually solicited New Year Welcome Poem: “Clouds over Mountains.” The Japan Times and Advertiser commented lyrically upon the imperial choice: “Clouds over mountains are symbolic of a new day beginning.”32 Indeed, Japan soared high above the clouds that day, but from its position at the pinnacle of achievement, all mountains sloped downward.