When Kimmel finished his testimony before the Roberts Commission, he bade farewell to his devoted staff. His friend Admiral Train accompanied him to the plane which would carry him to the mainland and a new phase of his life. He recalled Kimmel’s remarking in essence, “Train, we are at war now, and I do not intend to do anything about this at present.” There spoke a man loyal to his Navy and his country, but a man who reserved to himself the right to act later. As his plane climbed into the clouds, he swore an oath to himself: He would do everything in his power to cleanse from his good name the stain of imputed failure.1
Time blurred Fleming’s memory somewhat, but he believed he and perhaps a few others accompanied Short and the general’s aide, Captain Louis W. Truman, to the airport to see them off by clipper on January 11. To Fleming Short seemed the same as ever.2 Yet Short’s departure from Honolulu marked the beginning of the hard winter of his life. At the Presidio in San Francisco he received a telegram directing him to proceed to Oklahoma City “on temporary duty to carry out instructions of Secretary of War and upon completion and receipt of advice this office proceed to Washington DC and report to The Adjutant General for further temporary duty in Office Chief of Staff.”3
This message certainly gives the impression that Marshall intended Short to come to Washington and talk with him or at least with someone in his office. Yet a scribbled note, in itself unidentifiable, is listed in the Pearl Harbor documentation under date of January 13, 1942, as “handwritten note (Gen. Marshall) on wording of the acceptance of Gen. Short’s retirement.” This note reads: “. . . accepted, effective ———, without prejudice to future action in the interests of the government.”4
As best we know, up to this time Short had not considered retirement. Certainly he had not requested it, yet obviously Marshall was thinking in terms of Short’s removal from active duty before the Roberts Commission had even submitted its findings. In fact, Marshall’s note was dated two days before Roberts and his colleagues returned to Washington.
When Kimmel and Short arrived on the West Coast, they still held some hopes for their future careers. With the publication of the Roberts report that terrible, damning charge “dereliction of duty” exploded another landmine in the battlefield of their lives. “Errors of judgment”—yes. They could live with that. But “dereliction of duty”! Neither officer could possibly accept that awful indictment. Years later Kimmel said in bitter remembrance, “The Roberts Commission had one aim, to wreck Short and me.”5
General and Mrs. Short were visiting the latter’s parents in Oklahoma City when the story broke. The general had declined any comment since arriving on the mainland. When local newsmen asked “if he had any statement to make,” he replied crisply, “Not a word.”6 He could have said plenty had he wished. He was proud of his testimony before the Roberts Commission and thought he had done well.7 So its conclusion “completely dumbfounded” him. As he later testified, “To be accused of dereliction of duty after almost forty years of loyal and competent service was beyond my comprehension.”
Shaken to his foundations, he immediately telephoned Marshall and asked if he should retire. He recalled Marshall’s replying, “Stand pat but if it becomes necessary I will use this conversation as authority.” Short answered that he would place himself entirely in Marshall’s hands, “having faith in his judgment and loyalty.” To the best of Short’s recollection, this conversation took place about 1300 on Sunday, January 25. Although Short would have much preferred to stay on active duty, he decided after hanging up that in fairness to Marshall he should write a formal application for retirement for the Chief of Staff to use if he considered this advisable in the future. This he did, forwarding it in a personal letter to the Chief of Staff. Marshall never replied to this letter.8
On the morning of January 26 Stimson and Marshall talked over “what we shall do in respect to General Short. The President has virtually left it in our hands,” Stimson noted in his diary. Marshall told his chief that Short had phoned him to apply for retirement. Marshall also informed Stimson “that Stark in the Navy was hoping that Kimmel would do the same thing.” Wanting to make sure that no one went off half-cocked and that justice would be done, Stimson pointed out that “these men must be protected against being visited with punishment in the heat of the excitement which would not be given to them in cool blood. . . .”9
Later that day Marshall wrote a memorandum to Stimson confirming that he had talked with Short and had told him “to take no action at the present time, that we had not yet had an opportunity to read the proceedings, let alone arrive at any conclusions.” Marshall continued:
I am now of the opinion that we should accept General Short’s application for retirement today and do this quietly without any publicity at the moment.
Admiral Stark has requested me to advise him if we do this, as he proposes to communicate this fact to Admiral Kimmel in the hope that Kimmel will likewise apply for retirement.10
Yet no hint that the Navy planned to force Kimmel into retirement appears in the cordial letter which the chief of the Bureau of Navigation, Rear Admiral Randall Jacobs, wrote to Kimmel on January 24: “I have just discusssed with Admiral Stark, the question of your next duty. . . . Stark wants you for the General Board and I, too, feel that that is the place for you.”11 The General Board, traditional Happy Hunting Ground of senior admirals, would have been a logical spot for Kimmel, where he could have performed useful work in the company of his peers. Consider, too, Stark’s friendly note to Kimmel of January 27:
Marshall informed me yesterday while we were talking over the situation, that Short had submitted a request for retirement. We all thought that this information would be of interest to you. . . . I do not want you in any sense to consider the transmission of this information as a request on you by the Department to follow suit. . . . If and when we have any definite recommendations—suggestions—we will definitely say so.12
The same day the Roberts report appeared in the press—January 25—the commandant of the Twelfth Naval District at San Francisco told Kimmel that the chief of the Bureau of Navigation had telephoned him that he “had been directed by the Acting Secretary of the Navy” to inform Kimmel “that General Short had submitted a request for retirement.” Kimmel later learned that the direction came from Knox. Naturally the admiral took this message and the quasi-official manner of its delivery as a none-too-gentle hint that he follow Short’s example. Until then the thought of retiring had never crossed his mind, but he duly submitted the request on January 26.13
The next day reporters tracked down Admiral and Mrs. Kimmel at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. The admiral was scarcely more communicative than Short. “I don’t want to see anyone and I can’t see anyone,” he told representatives of the San Francisco Examiner brusquely.14 The San Francisco Chronicle quoted him further: “I am waiting for the Navy Department to tell me what to do next.”15
On January 28 the commandant informed Kimmel that Stark had telephoned that the notification had not been meant to influence him. But he wrote to the Bureau of Navigation: “I desire my request for retirement to stand, subject only to determination by the Department as to what course of action will best serve the interests of the country and the good of the service.”16 Stark greatly admired his old friend’s attitude. “I never knew of a man to put up a manlier, straighter, finer front than did Admiral Kimmel in this entire picture at that time,” he testified. “His whole bearing was exemplary and what I would have expected of him.”17
Evidently Stark wasted no time in passing the word from Kimmel up the line. On the afternoon of the twenty-eighth Roosevelt informed Stimson of Kimmel’s application for retirement. Stimson countered that Short had done the same. He also told the President that in his view “the objections to an immediate court martial were (1) that at present it would inevitably make public matters which are military secrets; (2) that it would be impossible to give the defendants a fair trial.” The President agreed and proposed three courses of action: First, the Army and Navy should act “on parallel lines”; secondly, they should wait “about a week and then announce that both officers have applied for this immediate retirement and that this is under consideration”; and thirdly, approximately one week later they should “announce that the applications have been accepted but with the distinct condition . . . that this does not in any way bar a subsequent court martial; that the reason for this is the impossibility of a court martial without the disclosure of military secrets and also that at present it would be impossible to give them a fair trial.”18
On February 7 the Navy and War departments announced that Kimmel and Short had applied for retirement. The story indicated that the decision to accept or not rested “exclusively with the President” through the secretaries of war and the navy. The retirements would not preclude courts martial because, regardless of duty status, an officer remained an officer.19
The requests for retirement aroused considerable interest in Washington. In the State Department Hornbeck suggested to Sumner Welles that “the interests of the United States might conceivably be better served” by assigning Kimmel and Short to nonoperational jobs rather than “by taking them out of harness and ‘turning them out to graze’—and draw their pensions.” He added thoughtfully:
The United States has put a lot of money into the training of those officers; the officers themselves have accumulated education and experience; a bad mistake, especially one of omission, does not wipe out and nullify inherent capacity to serve; and these officers if assigned to some new tasks, would probably work harder at them than at anything they have ever done before. . . .20
Hornbeck’s suggestion contained much merit, and in a less sensitive matter this reasoning might have prevailed. But in wartime a general and an admiral need the absolute confidence of their men and the nation. At the time several courses were possible: First, exonerate Kimmel and Short and send them into command positions; secondly, follow Hornbeck’s suggestion and retain them on active duty in staff or advisory capacities; thirdly, get them out of the way as gracefully as possible.
On February 16 Knox formally approved Kimmel’s request for retirement, effective March 1, 1942, “without condonation of any offense or prejudice to future disciplinary action.” Five days later Stark still appeared to have no idea of the decision reached at Cabinet level. On February 21 he wrote to Kimmel:
A few days ago I thought that you would have something definite before long. I am inclined to think now that this is not the case, and that for the time being at least you will just be continued on leave. . . .
Pending something definite, there is no reason why you should not settle yourself in a quiet nook somewhere and let Old Father Time help this entire situation, which I feel he will—if for no other reason than that he always has. . . .21
Like the memorandum from Marshall to Stimson about Short’s retirement, this letter raises questions. It seems incredible that after five days Stark should still be unaware that Knox had formally accepted Kimmel’s retirement. Perhaps somewhere along the line communications had slipped a gear. Perhaps, too, Stark still hoped that at the last minute Roosevelt, so devoted to the Navy, might yet order Kimmel reassigned rather than permit him to retire. During the congressional investigation Stark told his counsel and good friend David W. Richmond that he had begged the President to keep Kimmel on active duty. “You can be absolutely sure that here is an officer who would never be caught again, and who would work his heart out in a new command. He is a valuable officer and the Navy needs him.” This was the burden of Stark’s plea. But Roosevelt was adamant that Kimmel must go.22
It was typical of Stark that at a time when his own star was setting he should have gone to the White House to urge not his own cause, but that of his friend. The CNO had a better mind than many have given him credit for; however, it was not a subtle mind. He may not have understood that by retaining Kimmel in a position commensurate with his rank, the government tacitly would have excused the Navy from all the blame for Pearl Harbor, leaving the Army, in the person of Short, dangling alone from the hook. One can visualize the interservice bitterness this would have engendered. Roosevelt could not retain one officer without the other, and to keep both would be to negate the Roberts report. There again one can imagine the howls of outrage from one end of the country to the other. With a major double-barreled war on his hands, Roosevelt had little choice in the interests of national harmony. Only an unequivocal conviction of Kimmel’s total blamelessness could have allowed Roosevelt to act as Stark wished.
Stark’s suggestion that Kimmel trust himself to “Old Father Time” was in keeping with the CNO’s philosophic, rather slow-paced nature. But it was not the advice to commend itself to Kimmel, an impatient man full of drive. Moreover, in the meantime, Kimmel had received Knox’s approval of his retirement, and the wording “without condonation of any offense or prejudice to future disciplinary action” cut him to the heart. “I do not understand this paragraph . . .” he wrote Stark on February 22. He continued:
I stand ready at any time to accept the consequences of my acts. I do not wish to embarrass the government in the conduct of the war. I do feel, however, that my crucifixion before the public has about reached the limit. . . .
I feel that the publication of paragraph two of the Secretary’s letter of February 16 will further inflame the public and do me a great injustice. . . .
You must appreciate that the beating I have taken leaves very little that can be added to my burden. . . .23
Kimmel suffered greatly in this period from insults and threats. He felt a furious contempt for those spineless cowards who called him on the telephone, wrote him unsigned letters, or slid anonymous notes under the door of his hotel room in San Francisco and fled before he had the chance to confront them.24
At this particular time Stark had every reason to be preoccupied with his own affairs. In March 1942 the President decided to remove him as CNO and send him to London as commander, U.S. Naval Forces in Europe—quite a comedown at the time. Stimson’s diary indicates that Stark’s reassignment was part of the overall shakeup of the Navy. Roosevelt was far from happy with that organization at the time in spite of his usual bias toward the sea service. On March 6, following a Cabinet meeting, Knox told Stimson “that he had practically settled his troubles in the Navy. Stark is going to London and Turner is going to sea.” Stimson congratulated Knox “on these steps forward. . . .”25
Meanwhile, Short suffered his own ordeal at the hands of the War Department. A letter of February 17 from the acting Chief of Staff to The Adjutant General containing Stimson’s instructions for handling Short’s case is highly revealing. It ordered that “a letter be prepared for the signature of The Adjutant General [TAG] . . . stating in effect that his [Short’s] application for retirement for over 30 years’ service is accepted effective February 28, 1942, without condonation of any offense, or prejudice to any future disciplinary action.” The orders were to contain that specific statement. An officer would deliver the letter to Short in person, obtain a receipt, then immediately telephone TAG to report whether or not he had accomplished his mission. As soon as TAG had this report, he would advise the Bureau of Press Relations and the assistant chief of staff, Personnel (ACS G-1). In turn they would inform Stimson and make no press release until he had so directed. Then came the knockout punch:
That in the event a reply is received by the War Department from General Short within 24 hours from the time of delivery of the letter in question, which would indicate that he does not desire to retire under the conditions stated, The Adjutant General will then take the necessary action to accomplish the retirement of General Short under the orders referred to above.
The War Department was making very sure indeed that Short received his orders, and if he did not accept them, it would retire him anyhow. But Short submitted the official papers on February 18.26
The President wished to consult Stimson and Knox before the retirements were made public, Being confined to his bed with bronchitis, Roosevelt wanted the matter kept “in cold storage” until he was able to see the two secretaries. The delay worried Stimson somewhat because he feared “it may leak out in garbled form from someone near the defendants. . . .”
Not until the twenty-fifth did Stimson and Knox have their talk with the President. By that time Roosevelt had reversed his field, having reached the conclusion “that the temper of the people requires the court martial on the issue which has been raised by the Roberts Board having found that there was a dereliction of duty on their part. He would prefer to have it raised by the men requesting court martial themselves, in which case the trial could be delayed until a time when it could be held without injury to the, public interest.” Stimson pointed out to the President “the fact that the two men had merely reflected the general attitude of the whole country at that time. . . .” Roosevelt replied “he realized that and they should not be severely punished—a matter which he would have in his control.” Stimson gained the impression that his chief was “evidently thinking of a stern reprimand.”27
The War Department was on the job early the next morning. At 0815 Bridadier General Myron C. Cramer, The Judge Advocate General, personally hand-carried to Marshall a memorandum which explained that the retirement arrangement left the door open to court martial in the future. But he thought nothing could be gained by a public commitment to court martial the officers “at any specific future time.” The document added:
The defense would certainly attempt to pass part of the blame to the War Department. Such evidence or argument, if publicly aired, would tend to discredit the War Department and cause a lack of confidence by the people in the men in charge of the war operations. This would certainly be so if the trial should result in acquittal or a mild sentence.28
This assessment tacitly admitted that Short’s conviction was far from assured. Of course, even in peacetime the War Department would think long and hard before it court martialed a general. The last such occasion had taken place in 1926—the notorious Billy Mitchell case.29 And that had resulted in wounds to the Army’s prestige which still ached in damp weather.
But more than image was involved. When Stimson reached his office, he found Marshall, Cramer, and a representative of G-1 pondering the matter. He explained the problem in his diary:
. . . a defendant officer . . . could not ask for a court martial as a matter of right. They pointed out also that, if the President himself ordered the court martial, it might open him as a reviewing officer to the charge of bias when it came to his passing upon the sentence of the court. This would not apply to the case of the Secretary of War ordering the charges to be preferred.
This appeared to place the monkey squarely on Stimson’s back. So they came up with a statement which Cramer “seemed to think was all right.”
Knox objected that the format “didn’t conform to what the President wanted; the President wanted us to get the officers themselves to ask for the proceeding.” Stimson countered that such action by Roosevelt “would necessarily lead to the suspicion that there was a bargain on the subject or, at the other extreme, it could be charged that he had dragooned them into doing it.” Finally, they phoned Roosevelt, who agreed to the proposed format. Stimson instructed Marshall to have Short “notified by telegram or telephone in the language of this paper which I was going to do and to give him the reason for it; that I wanted him to know from me personally rather than from the press.”30
On February 28 the War and Navy departments announced that Short’s and Kimmel’s requests for retirement had been accepted effective February 28 and March 1 respectively. They were to be tried by courts martial “at such time ‘as the public interest and safety’ permits” on the charge of “dereliction of duty.” The Los Angeles Times very properly pointed out that the Articles of War contained no specific charge of “dereliction of duty.”31
Short was in San Antonio and “not available for comment. . . .”32 In this instance Short had the advantage over Kimmel. Stimson had insisted that the general receive a personal notification prior to the press release. The Navy accorded the admiral no such courtesy; he learned of his prospective court martial “through the public press. . . .”33
Like a wounded fox, Kimmel had gone to his native earth. He disappeared into his boyhood home in Henderson, Kentucky, while his wife went to Princeton to visit their son Ned. During Kimmel’s stay with two of his brothers in Henderson he did not leave the house or even permit himself to be seen at a window. When the news of the court martial came through the United Press, Ed Klinger, a reporter for the Evanston (Indiana) Press, received the assignment to inform Kimmel. For some minutes Klinger’s phone call could not penetrate beyond Hubbard, a determined and efficient buffer between his brother and the outside world. But at last he persuaded Hubbard to permit him to speak with the admiral. The reporter read the news bulletin. “There was no answer, but there was sound—the sound of deep, steady breathing.” After about five minutes Klinger asked, “Admiral, are you all right?” Kimmel answered, “Yes. Was there anything else?” Klinger encouraged him to comment in justice to himself. After another long silence the admiral spoke. “No, not even to the extent of saying ‘no comment.’ I thank you for your courtesy.” Then he broke the connection.34
Needless to say, the press was not equally taciturn. Many newspapers were still out for the hides of Kimmel and Short.35 The Honolulu Star-Bulletin proclaimed that the ordering of courts martial for the two officers was “in accordance with the basic principle of justice in our American democracy. . . .
“A sentry found asleep at his post, a pilot who drowses at the wheel, are certain of exemplary punishment. In wartime they are not allowed merely to retire. . . .” More in sorrow than in anger the Star-Bulletin assured its readers: “This is not to rake over the ashes of a bitter past but to point to the reason why now it is the considered judgment of the war and navy departments (which undoubtedly means the judgment of the president, too) that Short and Kimmel should stand courtmartial. . . .”36
The talents of Kimmel and Short did not go entirely to waste. Fortunately industry found a place for them. In September 1942 Short joined the Ford Motor Company in Dallas, Texas, as head of its traffic department. At the time the plant was “engaged solely in the manufacture of war materials.”37 Thus, Short continued to serve his country on the civilian front. Kimmel augmented his retirement checks of $6,000 a year by joining the shipbuilding firm of Frederic R. Harris Company in July 1942. The firm’s chief, himself a retired rear admiral, put Kimmel to work in New York City “on drydock blueprints for the Pacific campaigns.” Kimmel resented being deprived of the opportunity to serve on the battle line; nevertheless, he flung himself into his new arena with might and main. Harris later claimed that “if it had not been for Kimmel’s knowledge of battleships and their needs, the Pacific campaigns would have been delayed a considerable time. Drydocks served a very important part in the stationing of ships in areas where docks had been unheard of.”38
As 1942 drew toward its close, the Pearl Harbor picture presented an image of blurred lines and misty colors. Kimmel and Short hovered in a psychological limbo, neither acquitted nor condemned. Not only was this highly unsatisfactory for the two officers, their families and friends, but it also placed the individual American in a position where he or she could not help wondering why, if the commanders were guilty, they had not been punished. And if they were innocent, why were they not on active duty? The government was in an equally amorphous state, in which it could not explain its stand to the public for security reasons and in which the possibility of compromising Magic was an ever-present danger. Every day might see the loss, through enemy action, accident, or illness, of key witnesses essential to valid courts martial. Sooner or later some action would be necessary if the ship of truth were not to be permanently beached.