By the time Colonel Rufus “Togo” Bratton had arrived at his office in the Munitions Building on the morning of November 26, he was convinced that war would soon break out. For the past six months he had plotted what looked surely like a Japanese deployment for war. From the intercepted Japanese messages both in the Purple and consular codes, he was almost dead sure that the Japanese would attack the following Sunday, November 30.
The next morning, Thanksgiving, Bratton’s conviction that there would be war on Sunday was strengthened. Among the intercepts on his desk he had found a message from Nomura to Tokyo bemoaning Hull’s curt reply: “Our failure and humiliation is now complete.” Even more indicative were intercepts from the military and naval attachés advising their chiefs in Tokyo that the negotiations had collapsed and war with America apparently could no longer be delayed.
Since Marshall was vacationing in Florida with his wife, Bratton rushed these messages to Stimson along with a G-2 report evaluating a possibility that the Japanese “might be proceeding to the Philippines or to Burma to cut off the Burma Road, or to the Dutch East Indies,” or to “Thailand from which they could be in a position to attack Singapore at the proper moment.”
Stimson telephoned Hull to learn what the diplomatic situation was. “I handed the note to the Japs,” said Hull almost casually. “I have washed my hands of it and it is now in the hands of you and Knox—the Army and the Navy.”
Stimson’s call had interrupted Hull’s conference with his three top advisers on the Far East, Hornbeck, Maxwell Hamilton and Joseph Ballantine. The first, as usual, was urging use of arms against Japan. Hull pointed out that Marshall wanted a delay of at least three weeks and Stark wanted three months. The Navy asked for six months last February, riposted Hornbeck, and the Secretary, through his negotiations, had got them that delay. Now they wanted three more. What the President should do, said Hornbeck, is “to stop asking the Navy, and tell it.”
He assured Hull that yesterday’s note would call the bluff of the Japanese. They weren’t going to fight. He put his conviction on paper in a memorandum.
Were it a matter of placing bets the undersigned would give odds of 5 to 1 that the United States and Japan will not be at “war” on or before December 15 (the date by which General Gerow has affirmed that we would be “in the clear” so far as consummation of certain disposals of our forces is concerned); would wager 3 to 1 that the United States and Japan will not be at “war” on or before the 15th January (i.e., seven weeks from now); would wager even money that the United States and Japan will not be at “war” on or before March 1…. Stated briefly, the undersigned does not believe that this country is now on the verge of “war” in the Pacific.1
Even before Hornbeck began writing his memorandum, Stimson had made up his mind that Bratton could be right about war by Sunday. They must prepare for conflict. With Marshall out of town, Stimson himself would have to act. He asked Roosevelt for authorization to send war warnings to the commanding generals of the danger zones: the Panama Canal, Hawaii and particularly MacArthur in the Philippines.
Roosevelt must have felt somewhat like a pawn in the hands of his belligerent Cabinet. He had planned to send a reasonable reply to the Japanese yet allowed his modus vivendi to be drastically altered by Hull. Hull, in turn, had been influenced by Hornbeck to think the Japanese were negotiating deviously; and, almost out of pique, had discarded his own modus vivendi to send a reply to Japan that would not be acceptable.
Ever since Stimson had accepted the post of Secretary of War, Roosevelt had been pushed further and further toward war with both Germany and Japan. Feeling he had little choice, the President ordered Stimson to send out “the final alert.” Now the Secretary of War had what he wanted. No longer a mere civilian head of the War Department, he was Commander in Chief Roosevelt’s deputy. Before long Knox and Stark were in his office along with Gerow. The last two begged for more time but Stimson cut them off. “I’d also be glad to have time but I don’t want it at the cost of humiliation of the United States or of backing down on any of our principles which would show weakness on our part.”
Gerow presented a draft of a warning to commanders in the Pacific he had already prepared. In his own hand Stimson added “but hostile action possible at any moment” to a sentence reading “Japanese future action unpredictable.” He approved the rest of the message and at 11:08 A.M. the warning went out over the absent Marshall’s name. Stark’s warning to Kimmel was not dispatched until late in the day.
At Pearl Harbor Kimmel was conferring with his War Plans officer. “McMorris,” he asked, “what is your idea of chances of a surprise raid on Oahu?”
“I should say none, Admiral.”
The first news of Hull’s note did not reach Tokyo until late morning. The message was sent at once to the palace, where a liaison conference was in session. Arriving just as the meeting adjourned for lunch, Tojo read it aloud. There was dumfounded silence until someone said, “This is an ultimatum!” Even Foreign Minister Togo, who had held forth slight hope of success, never expected this. Overpowered by despair, he said something in such a stutter that no one could understand him; the Hull note “stuck in his craw.” What particularly infuriated every man in the room was the categorical demand to quit all of China. Manchuria had been won at the cost of considerable sweat and blood. Its loss would mean economic disaster. What nation with any honor would submit?
Hull’s proposal was the result of indignation and impatience, but this offending passage had been tragically misunderstood. To Hull, the word “China” did not include Manchuria and he had no intention of demanding that the Japanese surrender that territory. The American note should have been clear on this point. The exception of Manchuria would not have made the Hull note acceptable as it stood, but it might have enabled Foreign Minister Togo to persuade the militarists that negotiations should be continued; it could very well have forced a postponement of the November 30 deadline.2
And so two great nations sharing a fear of a Communist-dominated Asia were set on a collision course. Who was to blame? Japan was almost solely responsible for bringing herself to the road of war through the seizure of Manchuria, the invasion of China, the atrocities committed against the Chinese, and the drive to the south. But the United States did not fully understand that this course of aggression had been the inevitable result of the West’s attempts to eliminate Japan as an economic rival after World War I, the Great Depression, her population explosion, and the necessity to find new resources and markets to continue as a first-rate power. How could the United States, rich in resources and land, free from fear of attack, understand the position of a tiny, crowded island empire with almost no natural resources, which was constantly in danger of assault from a ruthless neighbor, the Soviet Union? America herself had, moreover, contributed to the atmosphere of hate and distrust by excluding the Japanese from immigration and, in effect, flaunting a racial and color prejudice that justifiably infuriated the proud Nipponese.
There were no heroes or villains on either side. Roosevelt, for all his shortcomings, was a man of broad vision and humanity; the Emperor was a man of honor and peace. Both were limited—one by the bulky machinery of a great democracy and the other by training, custom and the restrictions of his rule. Tojo and Togo were not villains nor were Stimson and Hull. The villain was the times. Japan and America would never have come to the brink of war except for the social and economic eruption of Europe after the Great War and the rise of two great revolutionary ideologies—Communism and Fascism.
A war that need not have been fought seemed certain to begin.
In Tucson, William R. Mathews, the editor of the Arizona Daily Star, a close friend of General Pershing, was writing an editorial forecasting a surprise attack on the Philippines—and Pearl Harbor.
The next day, Friday the twenty-eighth, Colonel Bratton brought Stimson information about Japanese movements in Southeast Asia amounting “to such a formidable statement of dangerous possibilities” that the Secretary decided to take it to the President before he got up. It was after nine o’clock but Roosevelt, suffering from a sinus infection, was resting in bed. After reading Bratton’s reports, he said there were three alternatives: “first, to do nothing; second, to make something in the nature of an ultimatum again, stating a point beyond which we would fight; third, to fight at once.”
The last two were the only ones, said Stimson. Roosevelt agreed. “Of the other two, my choice is the latter one,” said Stimson, and waited in vain for the President to second the motion. But Roosevelt, apparently, was still leary of taking the final step to war.
At a noon meeting of the War Cabinet, consisting of Stimson, Knox, Hull, Stark and Marshall, the President read aloud the most alarming passages of Bratton’s report envisaging an imminent Japanese attack on the Philippines, or Thailand, or Singapore, or the Dutch Netherlands. Roosevelt then said there was one more possibility, an attack on the Kra Isthmus, which would effectually block the Burma Road at its beginning.
In the discussion that followed, Stimson took the offensive. Strike at the Japanese force as it went by—without warning! The others preferred warning the Japanese that if their expedition “reached a certain place, or a certain line, or a certain point, we should have to fight.”
The President approved of this and suggested sending a personal message to the Emperor asking him to help stop the senseless drift to war. Stimson thought little of this idea. One does not warn an Emperor, he said. It would be far better to send a message to Congress reporting the danger. Then, if he wanted, Roosevelt could dispatch a secret message to the Emperor.
Roosevelt didn’t feel like arguing. He agreed. He was impatient to leave Washington and take his sinus problem to Warm Springs, Georgia. He said he wanted to have a belated Thanksgiving with the children there. Stimson disapproved—this was no time to leave the capital—but he said nothing, nor did anyone else. And so the President abruptly took himself out of the crisis.
No one in Washington had warned Short that he should be on the alert for more than sabotage from local Nisei. In fact, on that November 28, General Arnold wired the commander of the Hawaiian Air Force to initiate measures immediately “to provide the following: protection of your personnel against subversive propaganda, protection of all activities against espionage, and protection against sabotage of your equipment, property and establishment.… Avoiding unnecessary alarm and publicity protective measures should be confined to those essential to security.”
Short took this message as confirmation that he was on the right alert. Army planes were bunched together for better protection from saboteurs.
On the last day of November Tokyo ordered their ambassador, General Hiroshi Oshima, in Berlin to inform Hitler immediately that the English and Americans were planning to move military forces into East Asia and this must be countered:
…SAY VERY SECRETLY TO THEM THAT THERE IS EXTREME DANGER THAT WAR MAY SUDDENLY BREAK OUT BETWEEN THE ANGLO-SAXON NATIONS AND JAPAN THROUGH SOME CLASH OF ARMS AND ADD THAT THE TIME OF THE BREAKING OUT MAY COME QUICKER THAN ANYONE DREAMS.
This Purple message was intercepted and promptly translated in Washington but neither Kimmel nor Short was informed.
At the War Department Hombeck brought Stimson a draft for the President’s proposed message to the Emperor. “I read it over,” recalled Stimson, “and it was a comprehensive but very long and meticulous statement of the history of the United States relations with the Far East into which had been blended the suggestions that Knox and I had made. The whole paper was thirteen or fourteen pages long and had no punch for the requirements for which we had suggested it at the conference on Friday. Poor Hornbeck looked practically worn out. He had been working very hard and was evidently very nervous and tired. He said Hull was also very much worn.”
In the evening Knox visited Stimson and they made their own draft for the finale of whatever message would be sent to the Emperor. “This was in the shape of a virtual ultimatum to Japan that we cannot permit her to take any further steps of aggression against any of the countries in the southwestern Pacific including China.”
In Japan, where it was noon of December 1, the deadline had come twelve hours earlier. Kido Butai was well on its way to Hawaii and now, except for a last-minute diplomatic miracle, there seemed no chance that it would be called back.
The Matson liner Lurline was heading for the same destination but from the opposite direction. Ordinarily the ship would be crowded with tourists but on this trip there were far more defense workers aboard than passengers. She looked more like a transport than a luxury liner to Leslie E. Grogan, first assistant radio operator, who described himself as “a 260 pound blimp.” The forty-seven-year-old Grogan, one of the most experienced radio operators of the Matson Line, picked up a faint signal which he could not identify. It came from northwest by west, a peculiar area for traffic at this time of year. What would anyone be doing in such northerly, rough waters? Suspicious, he strained to follow the signals. They increased, grew louder, and he could make out the call letters JCS, Yokohama. It was in some Japanese code. He stayed on after his watch ended at midnight helping Chief Operator Rudy Asplund log the signals. Grogan wrote down in his journal:
The Japs are blasting away on the lower Marine Radio frequency—it is all in the Japanese code, and continues for several hours. Some of the signals were loud, and others weak, but in most every case, the repeat-back was acknowledged verbatum [sic]. It appears to me that the Jap is not using any deception of “Signal Detection” and boldly blasts away, using the Call letters JCS and JOS, and other Japanese based stations that have their transmitting keys all tied-in together, and controlled from a common source, presumably Tokio.…
So much of the signals reaching us on the SS Lurline were good enough to get good R.D.F. [Radio Direction Finding Bearings]. We noted that signals were being repeated back, possibly for copying by crafts with small antennas. The main body of signals came from a Northwest by West area, which from our second night from Los Angeles bound for Honolulu—would be North and West of Honolulu.
Having crossed the Pacific for 30 years, never heard JCS Yokohama Japan before at 9 P.M. our time on the lower Marine Frequency, and then rebroadcast simultaneously on the lower Marine frequency from some point in the Pacific.
If anyone should ask me, I would say it’s the Jap’s Mobilization Battle Order. Rudy Asplund kept Captain Berndtson [the ship’s master] informed and presume the Bridge Officers must have thought us “Nuts” with so much D.F. Tracking down of signals.
It is now 3 AM and am trying to cool off after that hectic session earlier.
Have jotted down all the particulars as they present themselves, and it is my desire to make a record of this because [I] sense things! Might prove worthy, who knows? GM 3.30 AM Dec. 1, 1941.
The next night, Monday, the Japanese signals were once more intercepted.
Again Rudy and I pick up without any trouble all the Japanese coded Wireless signals like last night—it goes on for two hours like before, and we are now making a concise record to turn in to the Naval Intelligence when we arrive in Honolulu, Wednesday December 3rd, 1941.
On Tuesday night the signals became even stronger as Kido Butai drew closer to its target.
We continue to pick up the bold Japanese General Order signals—it can’t be anything else. We get good Radio Direction Finder bearings, mostly coming from a Northwesterly direction from our position. The Jap floating units continue their bold repetition of wireless signals, presumably for the smaller crafts in their vanguard of ships, etc. The Japanese shore stations JCS and JOS are keyed by remote tie-in, coming from Tokyo I presume, and if we had a recording device, it would only prove what we ourselves jot down, and we can’t help but know that so much of it is a repeat back, letter for letter, because we have copied the original signals coming from Japanese land based stations, etc.
The Japs are so bold in using these low Marine frequencies too, but with all the tension we’ve seen up to now, it’s safe to say something is going to happen, and mighty soon, but how soon? All this display means something—time will tell, and tonights Radio Detection signals have come from a NW by W from Honolulu, and from the signals, the Japs must be bunched up, biding time.
The signals picked up by Lurline were only the shape of things to come. There was also excitement on the seventh floor of 717 Market Street in San Francisco, the main office of the Twelfth Naval District Intelligence. Lieutenant Ellsworth A. Hosner, a communications expert in civilian life, had recently been ordered to relocate the missing Japanese carrier force. For the past few days he had been feeding information to his assistant, Seaman First Class Z, a brilliant young man who had left college to volunteer in Navy Intelligence.3 Z, an electronics expert at twenty, had already designed a device which was being used on all Navy landing craft. Z’s task was to collate reports from commercial ships in the Pacific as well as the four wire services: Press Wireless, Globe Wireless, RCA, and Mackay. That morning they had received a report from one of the wire services wondering what was going on west of Hawaii. They were receiving queer signals that didn’t make sense at such frequency. Hosner telephoned the other services and shipping companies. Were they getting any strange signals? Several confirmed they had.
Using a large chart, Z managed to get cross bearings on the mysterious signals. He told Hosner it could possibly be the missing carrier force. The lieutenant alerted the Chief of Intelligence, Captain Richard T. McCollough. Hosner felt assured that not only O.N.I. but the President would be promptly informed. It was common knowledge in the office that McCollough was Roosevelt’s personal friend and had access to him through Harry Hopkins’ telephone at the White House.
Across the Pacific in Bandoeng, Java, the Dutch Army intercepted a Japanese message from Tokyo to their ambassador in Bangkok. It was in the consular code, which had been broken by a Dutch colonel, J. A. Verkuhl, with the help of his wife and a group of students. The message told of attacks to be launched on Hawaii, the Philippines, Malaya and Thailand. The signal to begin all operations simultaneously would come from Tokyo in the form of a weather broadcast over Radio Tokyo. It was the “winds” code setup.
General Hein Ter Poorten, the commander of the Netherlands East Indies Army, hand-carried the long message to the next building where the American military observer, Brigadier General Elliott Thorpe, a close friend, had an office. Ter Poorten asked Thorpe’s secretary to leave and, after locking the door, said, “I have something here I believe of great importance to your government.”
Thorpe read the intercept. “Sir, this is so important that with your permission I will go at once to Batavia and inform our senior State Department representative of this and then send it directly to Washington tonight.”
By the time Thorpe arrived in Batavia the American Consulate had closed, so he proceeded to the Hotel des Indes where Dr. Walter Foote, the consul general and the senior naval attaché, Commander Paul Sidney Slawson, lived. The former, nicknamed “Uncle Billy,” ridiculed the matter and advised Thorpe to forget it. But Slawson was impressed. Since Thorpe’s code book was in Bandoeng, Slawson offered to send the message in naval code to Washington. By the time it was encoded it was past midnight and the main post office, which handled overseas communications, was closed. The two pounded on the back door of the post office until a member of the night staff appeared. Thorpe explained the urgency and asked that it be sent by cable; the Japs were probably tapping the wireless. Since the message was in naval code it had to go to the War Department through the Navy Communications center. After its receipt was acknowledged Thorpe assumed that both the Army and Navy had read the message and its warning of an attack on Hawaii.4
On that eventful second of December Captain Johan E. M. Ranneft, since 1938 the naval attaché of the Netherlands in Washington, paid a visit to the Office of Naval Intelligence where he queried Admiral Wilkinson and other intelligence officers about the deteriorating situation in the Pacific. As usual they were most frank with Ranneft since he had done the U. S. Navy a great service. (After witnessing a demonstration of the 40-mm. Bofors gun on a Dutch ship in the Caribbean, Captain W. P. H. Blandy, chief of Ordnance, found it so far superior to all other anti-aircraft guns that he was determined to get it for the U. S. Navy. But there were complications. The weapon had been developed jointly by the Netherlands Navy and two private companies, Hazemeyer-Signaal and the Swedish firm of Bofors. Blandy realized how difficult it would be to get Swedish approval so he asked his friend Captain Ranneft for the blueprints. Without consulting his superiors in exile in London, Ranneft procured a set of blueprints from Batavia and turned them over to Blandy. Hours later a perturbed Swedish naval attaché protested this violation of patent rights. Ranneft assured him that the decision had been made by the Dutch government in London and any complaints should be lodged there.5 A gun was made from the blueprints by a Baltimore firm, tested at Aberdeen Proving Grounds and would soon be installed on American warships.)
Ranneft was startled when one of the Americans pointed to a map on the wall and said, “This is the Japanese Task Force proceeding east.” The position was halfway between Japan and Hawaii. Ranneft said nothing, only wondered how the Americans had managed to track the missing carriers. He cabled Dutch naval headquarters in London and also reported the information in person to Minister Alexander Loudon. Then he wrote in his official diary, “Conference at Navy Department, O.N.I. They show me on the map the position of two Japanese carriers. They left Japan on easterly course.”
At Pearl Harbor Kimmel was asking his intelligence officer the whereabouts of the missing carriers. Lieutenant Commander Layton reported that there were a few carriers in Japanese home waters but the major force was still missing.
“What!” exclaimed Kimmel. “You don’t know where Carrier Division 1 and Carrier Division 2 are?”
“No, sir, I do not. I think they are in home waters, but I don’t know where they are. The rest of these units, I feel pretty confident of their location.”
Then Kimmel looked at Layton as he occasionally did—with a somewhat stern countenance and yet partially with a twinkle in his eyes—and said, “Do you mean to say that they could be rounding Diamond Head and you wouldn’t know it?”
“I hope they would be sighted before now.”
The information given to Captain Ranneft by O.N.I. was never sent to Kimmel. That day the admiral wrote Stark that the Pacific Fleet was so deficient in auxiliaries that it could not even start any attack west from Pearl Harbor before February of 1942.
Stimson was worried on that Tuesday, the second. The President had returned from Warm Springs but as yet had sent no message to the Emperor or the Congress. Harry Hopkins reassured the Secretary that Roosevelt was not weakening. Stimson convinced himself this was true from F.D.R.’s attitude at the afternoon Cabinet meeting. “The President went step by step over the situation,” he wrote in his diary, “and I think has made up his mind to go ahead.” He was confident Roosevelt would now not only warn the Emperor but alert the American people through a strong message to Congress. The way was at last clear. Roosevelt’s words would maneuver the Japanese into firing the first shot once they crossed that certain line in Southeast Asia. In a few days the line would be crossed and the British and Dutch would have to fight. And so, at last, would America.
Yet Roosevelt showed apprehension when he was interrupted during a later meeting with Donald Nelson, head of the Supply Priorities and Allocation Board, to be told that Kurusu and Nomura were outside with Hull. “How does it look?” asked Nelson.
The President shook his head gravely. “Don, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if we were at war with Japan by Thursday.”
On the third of December he seemed almost cocky. He told Secretary of the Treasury Morgenthau that he had Kurusu and Nomura “running around like a lot of wet hens” after he asked them why they were sending so many military forces into Indochina. “I think the Japanese are doing everything they can to stall until they are ready.”
The Census Bureau finally had the name and address of every Japanese in the United States, a total of 126,947: the California material alone consisted of some fifty single-spaced pages. Dr. Field telephoned the commandant of the Marine Corps that the job was finally completed and thanked him for his generous assistance. After congratulating Mr. Capt and his staff, Field then drove to the White House where he turned over the last envelope containing the California material to Grace Tully.6 Copies were distributed to the F.B.I. and the governors and military commanders in each state.
That day Washington forwarded Kimmel two dispatches advising him of Japanese instructions to embassies and consulates to burn their code books. Nothing was sent about the approaching Japanese carriers.
At 9:00 A.M. the S.S. Lurline docked at its usual pier near Honolulu’s famous Aloha Tower. Grogan and Asplund hurried the few blocks up Bishop Street to the downtown intelligence office of the Fourteenth Naval District in the Hotel Alexander Young Building. After introducing themselves to Lieutenant Commander George Warren Pease, they turned over their data. “He was a good listener,” recalled Grogan, “and showed little outward reflection as to what we felt was a mighty serious situation, but nevertheless, Rudy and I felt relieved in our avowed duty to pass the vital information on to the Navy for whatever value they could derive from it.” Pease promised to pass on the warning but there is no record that he forwarded the information either to the Fourteenth Naval District intelligence officer, Captain Irving Mayfield, or to Washington.7
Within sight of the docked Lurline, Police Lieutenant John A. Burns, head of the Honolulu Espionage Bureau, was entering the Dillingham Building. He proceeded up to the second floor to the office of Robert L. Shivers, the F.B.I. agent in charge. “Close the doors,” said Shivers. He was a small man who prided himself on being “a deadpan F.B.I. agent,” but today he was patently agitated. “I’m not telling my men but I’m telling you this.” There were tears in his eyes. “We’re going to be attacked before the week is out.” Pearl Harbor was going to be hit. The stunned Burns asked what he could do and was told to start contacting people in town to see if anyone had any foreknowledge of the Pearl Harbor attack. No one had.8
In San Francisco at the Twelfth Naval District Intelligence Office, Lieutenant Hosner and Seaman First Class Z had tracked the Japanese carrier force to a position northwest of Hawaii. Were they bound for the Aleutians or Hawaii? The information was passed on to Captain McCollough who, they assumed, informed Washington through intelligence channels as well as the President through Harry Hopkins.
Late that night Barnet Nover, associate editor of the Washington Post, was wakened by a telephone call from a British official who begged him to come at once to his room. Once Nover arrived the official, in great agitation, explained that a Dutch officer had told him two Japanese carriers had been discovered north of the Marshalls and were bound either for the Dutch Indies or Pearl Harbor.9 The Briton confessed he could not sleep since he was certain the carriers’ destination was Pearl Harbor.
Just after midnight, in the early hours of December 4,10 Ralph Briggs was on duty at Station M, the Navy’s East Coast intercept installation. Earlier Commander Laurance Safford had driven out to Station M to inspect the new land-line telegraph for direction-finder control. He knew that the Orange intercept team had been alerted to watch out for any “winds” execute and was making a personal check of the watch assigned to that duty. He was assured that the Tokyo news and weather broadcasts were being monitored by qualified katakana operators.
Briggs had not met Safford on an earlier inspection but was well qualified to pick up any “winds” message. He could read Japanese and his superior, Chief Radioman DW, had instructed him to look out only for three terms: Higashi no kaze ame, Kitano kaze kumori or Nishi no kaze hare. DW privately explained to Briggs the significance of each term and that it probably would be the third, “West wind, clear,” a diplomatic break with Great Britain.
Before dawn Briggs picked up on schedule the routine Japanese Navy weather broadcast from Tokyo and he began copying down in Japanese telegraphic code: Higashi no kaze ame: “East wind, rain.” Momentarily he didn’t realize its significance since he had been expecting “West wind, clear.”
He quickly checked his watch supervisor’s classified instructions. There was no doubt this was one of the war warning destruct messages to ministries and consulates. And it meant war with America.
He rushed to the next room and got the message on the TWX circuit to Safford’s office. Then he telephoned his supervisor, who lived on the post. “DW,” he exclaimed, “I think I got what we’ve been looking for!”
“Good. I’ll be right up.” Briggs was to get it on the TWX circuit downtown right away.
Briggs said he had already done that. He hung up and made an entry on his log sheet of the lead line of the message. He also included the warning characters, the date, time and frequency.
During the fateful third of December an Army air corps captain had secretly brought to isolationist Senator Burton Wheeler a document as thick as a novel, wrapped in brown paper and labeled “Victory Program.” The young captain, according to Wheeler’s account, said he thought Congress had “a right to know what’s really going on in the executive branch when it concerns human lives.” As Wheeler scanned the top secret papers, his blood pressure rose. “I felt strongly that this was something the people as well as a senator should know about.”
It looked to Wheeler like a blueprint for total war in Europe and Asia, contemplating total U.S. armed forces of 10,045,658 men. In righteous indignation he turned over the papers for publication to a Washington correspondent for the Chicago Tribune.11
The next morning, the fourth, it was 7:30 A.M. by the time that Major Albert C. Wedemeyer reached his office in the Munitions Building. He sensed an atmosphere of excitement. Officers were milling around amidst a buzz of conversation which ended abruptly as his secretary handed him a copy of the Washington Times-Herald. In consternation he read the banner headlines:
And in somewhat smaller type below:
GOAL IS 10 MILLION ARMED MEN:
HALF TO FIGHT IN AEF
Proposed Land Drive by July 1, 1943, to Smash Nazis
Wedemeyer hastily scanned the report. It was an exact reproduction of the Victory Program on which he had been working day and night the past few months. “I could not have been more astounded if a bomb had been dropped on Washington.… Here was irrefutable evidence that America was preparing to enter the war, and soon. President Roosevelt’s promises to keep us out of war were interpreted as campaign oratory.” Wedemeyer was the General Staff officer responsible for the preparation as well as the secrecy of the Victory Program, revelation of which might inevitably precipitate American participation in the war.
Privately he believed America should not intervene in the affairs of foreign countries unless national interest was in jeopardy. And the United States, as professional military men generally agreed, was not in imminent danger. Despite his convictions, Wedemeyer had devoted all his energies to the planning of a war for which he felt the United States was unprepared. The first to be suspected of leaking the information, he was thoroughly investigated by the F.B.I., which found him completely innocent.
Official Washington was in panic on that fourth of December. By the time Stimson returned from a three-hour session with his dentist in New York, he found his assistants depressed. “Nothing more unpatriotic or damaging to our plans for defense could very well be conceived of and for the first time in my observation of him McCloy was sunk. But the picture of this occurrence during my own day of absence rather tickled my funnybones and I cheered them up. The thing to do is to meet the matter head on and use this occurrence if possible to shake our American people out of their infernal apathy and ignorance of what this war means.”
He telephoned the President. “I gave him my views on the situation and was glad to find that he agreed that we should meet the crisis head on.” Stimson was relieved to find Roosevelt “full of fight” and no longer vacillating. “So the evening’s discussion ended with a note of fight and optimism.”
William R. Mathews, who had recently predicted an attack on Pearl Harbor in his newspaper, was interviewing Knox. Mathews asked if the Navy was ready for a surprise attack. “Hell, yes,” was the answer, “but they don’t dare to make a surprise attack. They know they could commit suicide.”
During the day Kilsoo Haan telephoned Maxwell Hamilton of the State Department that he had been warned by the Korean underground that the Japanese would attack Pearl Harbor the coming weekend. He was concerned enough to send Hamilton this long report:
Pursuant to our telephone conversations regarding our agents’ apprehensions that Japan may suddenly move against Hawaii “this coming weekend,” may I call your attention to the following relevant and pertinent information.
One: The publication of U. S. Army Air Corps maneuvers throughout the Hawaiian Islands by the Japanese daily Nippu Jiji, Nov. 22, 1941. This timetable of air maneuvers is from November through Dec. 31, 1941, “every day except Sundays and holidays.”
Two: The Italian magazine “Oggi” of Oct. 24, 1941, published an article in Rome forecasting war between Japan and America. The article forecast war between Japan and America by air and naval attack of the Hawaiian Islands and eventually attacking Alaska, California and the Panama Canal.
Haan also called attention to a Japanese book, The Three Power Alliance and the U.S.-Japan War, by Kinoaki Matsuo, published in October 1940. In a chapter entitled “The Japanese Surprise Attack Fleet,” Matsuo had written that there was no doubt that in the event of war with the United States Japan would grasp the best opportunity to strike the enemy in advance.
It is our considered observation and sincere belief, December is the month of the Japanese attack, and the SURPRISE FLEET is aimed at Hawaii, perhaps the first Sunday of December.…
No matter how you feel toward our work, will you please convey our apprehension and this information to the President and to the military and naval commanders in Hawaii.
In Java General Thorpe had already sent a second message to Washington warning of the attack on Hawaii and the Philippines. But he was so disquieted, he decided, on the fourth of December, to send still another, this through Consul General Foote. But Uncle Billy deleted the entire first long paragraph mentioning the location of the attacks, and only set up the “winds” code. At the end Foote added: “Thorpe and Slawson cabled the above to the War Department. I attach little or no importance to it and view it with suspicion. Such have been common since 1936.”
General Ter Poorten guessed that Foote would water down the warning and sent all the details to Colonel F. G. L. Weijerman, the Dutch military attaché in Washington, with instructions to pass the information on to the highest U.S. military sources.
Thorpe sent a fourth message a little later, one directly to the Army G-2, General Miles. This message was acknowledged by Washington; Thorpe was ordered to send no more dispatches on the subject.12 “This might have been because the War Department felt my dispatches might reach the wrong hands or for some other reason they considered adequate.”
Another drama was taking place to the north, in Manila. At Asiatic Fleet Headquarters, Lieutenant Kemp Tolley was instructed to set out on a mysterious mission ordered personally by the President. He was to arm a windjammer, the Lanikai, a two-masted interisland schooner, with a cannon, a machine gun and provisions for a two-week cruis—and be ready to sail in twenty-four hours. Tolley was aware that his was but one of three small ships on a joint mission, and that he was to relieve the Isabel, commanded by Lieutenant John Walker Payne, Jr., which was already on her way to the Indochina coast. Three days earlier Admiral Hart had received this extraordinary order:
PRESIDENT DIRECTS THAT THE FOLLOWING BE DONE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AND WITHIN TWO DAYS IF POSSIBLE AFTER RECEIPT THIS DISPATCH X CHARTER THREE SMALL VESSELS TO FORM A QUOTE DEFENSIVE INFORMATION PATROL UNQUOTE X MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS TO ESTABLISH IDENTITY AS UNITED STATES MEN-OF-WAR ARE COMMAND BY A NAVAL OFFICER AND TO MOUNT A SMALL GUN AND ONE MACHINE GUN WOULD SUFFICE X FILIPINO CREWS MAY BE EMPLOYED WITH MINIMUM NUMBER NAVAL RATINGS TO ACCOMPLISH PURPOSE WHICH IS TO OBSERVE AND REPORT BY RADIO JAPANESE MOVEMENTS IN WEST CHINA SEA AND GULF OF SIAM.…
Hart had read this with consternation. “As a war measure the project was very ill-advised,” he later told the Director of Naval History. “Pickets in such locations could not be useful because the Japanese were bound to have them marked down … which would mean no chance to let them see anything of value.”
He had instructed Payne to observe the utmost secrecy. The two of them alone were to know the actual mission until the Isabel was at sea, and then only his executive officer, Lieutenant j.g. Marion Buaas, was to be informed of their true purpose. Their cover orders were to search for a downed Catalina. On the morning of December 5 the Isabel sighted a Japanese Navy plane which continued to reappear throughout the day as the ship, originally a private yacht, kept heading east. From the air the deck chairs gave the Isabel the appearance of a large yacht but it was obviously a warship because of four 3-inch guns mounted fore and aft as well as four Lewis machine guns on top of the pilot house.
At 7 P.M. Payne sighted the Indochina coast twenty-two miles distant. Ten minutes later he was ordered to return to Manila immediately. During the return voyage a message was received that Pearl Harbor had been attacked.13
In Washington it was early morning of December 5. Half of the front page of the Washington Times-Herald was occupied with the War Plan scandal:
WAR PLAN EXPOSÉ ROCKS CAPITAL, PERILS ARMY APPROPRIATION BILL: LONDON HAILS PROSPECT OF A.E.F.
The three subheadlines read:
Congress in Uproar; Tinkham Declares Republic Betrayed
British Press Headlines Sensational Disclosure
Administration Fears Nation’s Wrath Over Secret Project
Stimson called the President; he now disagreed with Roosevelt’s idea of making no comment to the newspapers regarding the matter. “Go ahead,” said Roosevelt. “Tell them.” At his own press conference at 10:30 A.M. he said he had nothing to say but that the Secretary of War probably did. And when Stimson got to his own press room an hour later he found it jammed as never before. He was very brief. First he asked two questions: “What would you think of an American General Staff which in the present condition of the world did not investigate and study every conceivable type of emergency which may confront this country and every possible method of meeting that emergency? What do you think of the patriotism of a man or a newspaper which would take those confidential studies and make them public to the enemies of this country?” Then he explained that the revelations were only unfinished studies. “They have never constituted an authorized program of the government.”
During the day Roosevelt wrote Wendell Willkie, whom he had defeated at the polls the previous year, approving Willkie’s proposed trip to Australia. “It would, of course, be of real value to cement our relations with New Zealand and Australia and would be useful not only now but in the future. There is always the Japanese matter to consider. The situation is definitely serious and there might be an armed clash at any moment if the Japanese continue their forward progress against the Philippines, Dutch Indies or Malaya or Burma. Perhaps the next four or five days will decide the matter.”14
At the Cabinet meeting Roosevelt read Stimson’s statement to the press. The latter was amused to find his fellow members extremely warlike. “They thought I was almost defensive in my statement. Harold Ickes grunted that it was entirely too defensive. Even Henry Wallace said that while he liked the main statement, he thought he didn’t like the questions.”
In his diary the Secretary of War did not mention the much more important discussion at the meeting concerning the approaching conflict. A rare detailed account of this was revealed by Secretary of Labor Frances Perkins in an oral history interview at Columbia University in 1955. She recalled that Hull was very sober and so lugubrious that the gloom fairly stood out all over him. He was disgusted with Kurusu and Nomura. “They don’t mean business, Mr. President. I’m sure they don’t mean to do anything. With every hour that passes, I become more convinced that they are not playing in the open, that what they say is equivocal and has two meanings to it.… They are the worst people I ever saw.” He continued in the strongest and most blasphemous language Mrs. Perkins had ever heard him use.
As they started discussing how the Japanese would go about attacking the British, Knox suddenly interrupted. “Well, you know, Mr. President, we know where the Japanese Fleet is?”
“Yes, I know,” said Roosevelt and then looked around. “I think we ought to tell everybody how ticklish the situation is. We have information, as Knox just mentioned … Well, you tell them what it is, Frank.”
“Well,” began Knox in his sputtering, excitable way, “we have very secret information that mustn’t go outside this room that the Japanese Fleet is out at sea.” He was extremely high strung.
Roosevelt, looking very serious and severe, kept nodding his head in affirmation. He was scowling in a puzzled manner and as Knox said, “Our information is …” cut him off and said, “We haven’t got anything like perfect information as to their apparent destination. The question in the minds of the Navy and in my mind is whether the fleet is going south.”
“Singapore?” said several.
Roosevelt nodded. “Probably. That’s the presumed objective if they go south.”
Knox interrupted excitedly. “Every indication is that they are going south, Mr. President. That’s the obvious direction.”
Roosevelt cut in. “But it’s not absolutely certain that they wouldn’t be going north. You haven’t yet information that they’re not going north. You haven’t got information with regard to direction.”
“That’s right, we haven’t, but we must conclude that they are going south. It’s so unlikely that they would go north.”
“Well,” said the President, “there are the Aleutians. There are fishing grounds. We do know there have been very large fishing fleets in those waters in recent months, larger than usual.”
Knox thought this was ridiculous. “That might be, but it’s not likely.”
For some reason Roosevelt persisted as if he knew something Knox did not. “They might be going north. There is no evidence that they’re not going north.”
Knox was equally stubborn. “No, but I must draw the conclusion that they’re going south. I don’t think they’re out just to maneuver. We in the Navy think they must be going to do something.”
Roosevelt surveyed the group. “Now, I want to try an experiment. They are at sea. What shall we do? If they proceed toward Singapore, what’s the problem of the United States? What should the United States do? I’d like every person here one by one to answer and say what he thinks we ought to do. I want to warn you that I’m asking this for information and a kind of an opinion, not advice in the usual sense, because we’re not going to take any vote and I’m not going to be bound by any advice that you give. I’m just checking to see how your minds are operating. It is a terrible problem. I hope we won’t have to act on it, or settle it, but we may have to. We may have to decide to do something. What do you think?”
When Mrs. Perkins declared that they should go to the relief of the British if Singapore were attacked, Roosevelt was surprised as though expecting her to go along with the minority who opposed this course. The Secretary of Labor left the room feeling that this had been a dreadful session. “I remember going back to my office and just sitting down kind of limp, trying to face the music myself, saying, ‘Is it possible that this country will be involved in a war with Japan in the Pacific?’ That had never crossed my mind, I’m free to say.” It had been a very shattering day, yet there was still no sense of immediacy and nothing had been said that made it seem imperative to change her weekend plans. She would still go to the Cosmopolitan Club in New York City where she’d have peace enough to write a report.
In Honolulu the lone Navy spy, Yoshikawa, was informing Tokyo that three battleships had arrived in Pearl Harbor that morning, and that the carrier Lexington had left port with five heavy cruisers.
It was about 5 A.M., December 6, Washington time, as Colonel Bonner Fellers, an American observer in Egypt, walked into the Royal Air Force Headquarters in Cairo. The air marshal in charge of the Middle East was at his desk. His first words were: “Bonner, you will be in the war in twenty-four hours. We have a secret signal Japan will strike the U.S. in twenty-four hours.”
Fellers—described by George Marshall as “a very valuable observer”—couldn’t believe it. He replied that the Japanese were having a free hand in the Orient and it would not be to their advantage to attack America. But the air marshal was confident the Japanese would strike and made no secret of his elation that the United States would finally be in the war.
Fellers toyed with the idea of sending a dispatch to Washington relaying the air marshal’s statement. “Finally, I decided that if the British knew of the attack, we also knew of it. Also I reasoned that if the report were false I would be in quite a pickle.”15
About that time London was cabling Air Chief Marshal Sir Robert Brooke-Popham, commander in chief in the Far East, that they had “now received assurance of American armed support” in case of Japanese attacks on Siam, Thailand or the Netherlands East Indies.
As the morning wore on in Washington, the bad news from the Far East increased and Stimson felt that “the atmosphere indicated that something was going to happen.”
At the White House Harry Hopkins was reading a cable from Averell Harriman, who had come to London after completing a mission for Roosevelt in Moscow:
THE PRESIDENT SHOULD BE INFORMED OF CHURCHILL’S BELIEF THAT IN THE EVENT OF AGGRESSION BY THE JAPANESE IT WOULD BE THE POLICY OF THE BRITISH TO POSTPONE TAKING ANY ACTION—EVEN THOUGH THIS DELAY MIGHT INVOLVE SOME MILITARY SACRIFICE—UNTIL THE PRESIDENT HAS TAKEN SUCH ACTION AS, UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, HE CONSIDERS BEST. THEN CHURCHILL WILL ACT “NOT WITHIN THE HOUR, BUT WITHIN THE MINUTE.” I AM SEEING HIM AGAIN TOMORROW. LET ME KNOW IF THERE IS ANYTHING SPECIAL YOU WANT ME TO ASK.
During Knox’s daily meeting with Stark, Turner, Noyes and other leading naval officers there was a long discussion on Japanese intentions. “Gentlemen,” asked Knox, “are they going to hit us?”
“No, Mr. Secretary,” said Admiral Turner, who was generally considered the spokesman for Stark. “They are going to attack the British. They are not ready for us yet.”
A recently retired American diplomat, Ferdinand Mayer, walked into the Japanese Embassy on Massachusetts Avenue a little after 11 A.M. He had been given to understand that his old friend, Saburo Kurusu, would talk to him openly about the degenerating negotiations. The special envoy received Mayer warmly and talked with such amazing candor that it became increasingly evident to Mayer that he was trying to convey something of shocking import. Finally he openly declared that the situation was “one of extreme danger of war.” Mayer was so impressed, he begged Kurusu to dine that evening at the home of Ferdinand Belin, former ambassador to Poland. Mayer felt he needed a witness “for this most extraordinary expression of view which, if understood by our government, must surely at least provide it with a most urgent reason to alert all possible military establishments in the Far East.” Mayer wasted no time in telephoning James Dunn of the State Department of his extraordinary interview.
In the Navy Building, Mrs. Edgers was showing Chief Yeoman H. L. Bryant a partial translation of the message from Consul General Kita to Tokyo concerning the light signals from a house on Lanikai Beach. She said it read like a detective story and they both agreed it should be brought to Lieutenant Commander Kramer’s attention.
Commander Laurance Safford knew nothing of this message. He was involved in composing a warning to Kimmel: “In view of imminence of war destroy all registered publications in Wake Island except this system and current editions of aircraft code and direction finder code.” The message was typed out and sent to Admiral Noyes for approval but the chief of communications didn’t see it until returning from the big meeting in Knox’s office. Noyes had been so impressed by Turner’s declaration that the Japs would not attack the United States, only the British, that Safford’s proposed message made him furious. He summoned Safford. “What do you mean by a message like this,” he railed, “telling the commander that war is imminent?”
“Admiral,” said Safford as calmly as he could, “war is a matter of days if not hours.”
“You may think there is going to be a war but I think the Japs are bluffing!”
Knowing Noyes’s fear of taking responsibility, Safford said, “Wake Island has all the Pacific crypto systems that we have printed, and covering the period up to July 1942. If those systems fall in the hands of the Japanese it will go very hard with you and very hard with me, too. I want that message sent.”
“Well, that makes a difference,” blustered Noyes, and began to rewrite the message. Safford was appalled at the “mayhem” committed on his original dispatch, for Noyes had left out any mention of Wake Island or any warning of war.
In view of the international situation and the exposed position of the outlying Pacific islands you may authorize the destruction by them of secret and confidential documents now or under later conditions of greater urgency.…
To make matters even worse, the message was sent deferred precedence, which meant delivery on Monday morning.
During this discussion, Captain Ranneft, the Dutch naval attaché, arrived at the office of O.N.I. where he found Wilkinson, McCollum and Kramer. After they told of the Japanese movements toward the Kra Peninsula, Ranneft asked about the two Japanese carriers heading eastward. “Where are those fellows?”
Someone put a finger on the wall chart four hundred miles or so north of Honolulu. “What the devil are they doing there?” asked the amazed Ranneft. Someone said vaguely that the Japanese were perhaps interested in “eventual American intentions.” This made little sense to Ranneft but he said nothing. And no one mentioned anything about a possible attack on Pearl Harbor. “I myself do not think about it,” Ranneft wrote in his official diary, “because I believe that everyone in Honolulu is 100% on the alert, just as everyone here at O.N.I. is.”
Ranneft returned to his embassy, told Minister Loudon what he had heard, and then cabled his superiors in London.
At the Twelfth Naval District in San Francisco, Lieutenant Hosner and Seaman First Class Z had tracked Kido Butai to a position approximately four hundred miles north-northwest of Oahu. There was now no doubt at all. Pearl Harbor was going to be raided the next morning. After passing on their calculations to Captain McCollough the two men had a private celebration. Tomorrow the Japanese were going to get the surprise of their lives.
That morning Joseph C. Harsch of the Christian Science Monitor talked for half an hour with Kimmel. The admiral said that the Germans had just announced they were going into winter quarters in front of Moscow. “This means that they have given up the effort to capture Moscow this winter. This means that the Japanese will not attack us. They are too intelligent to fight a two-front war. If Moscow had fallen they could attack us without any danger of being attacked by the Russians in their rear.”
Despite his reassuring words to Harsch, Kimmel was deeply disturbed. In the forenoon he summoned members of his staff to evaluate the latest reports of Japanese activity. There was still no sign of the missing carriers. He took the problem to lunch. In an attempt to slow down the killing pace Kimmel had set for himself the past months, Admiral Smith urged him to take siestas in such a tropic climate.
“Come, Smith,” said Kimmel shortly, “let’s get back to work.”
“Well, there are times when your chief of staff would like one.”
Kimmel proceeded without delay to the Planning Division office where Colonel Omar Pfeiffer, a Marine on his staff, was discussing the possible outbreak of war with Kimmel’s operations officer, Captain Charles McMorris. The admiral expressed his anxiety about the Japanese intentions toward the Pacific Fleet and Pearl Harbor. He was so worried, he admitted, that it “affected his guts.”
“Captain McMorris tried to allay the admiral’s concern, if not premonitions,” recalled Pfeiffer, “by saying that the Japanese could not possibly be able to proceed in force against Pearl Harbor when they had so much strength concentrated in the Asiatic operations. I was not a participant in the conversation but I sensed the deep feeling of concern and responsibility felt by the admiral.”
Kimmel was so uneasy, he ordered Lieutenant Commander Layton to take the latest intelligence report on the concentration of Jap transport and naval transports off Indochina to Admiral Pye, commander of Combat Force, for his comments. Pye, aboard the battleship California, guessed that the Japanese were probably going to occupy a position in the Gulf of Siam from which to operate against the Burma Road. Layton didn’t believe they would stop there. He felt their objectives were farther south, probably the oil of the East Indies since the United States had stopped its export of oil to Japan. Besides, the Japs would never leave their flanks exposed and would therefore attack the Philippines. “And we’d be at war.”
“Oh, no,” said Pye. “The Japanese won’t attack us. We’re too strong and powerful.”
Layton brought these heartening words to Kimmel but he still fretted. Late in the afternoon he took his own operations officers, McMorris and DeLany, to his quarters for further discussion. Searching for solutions, Kimmel finally hit upon an idea that appealed to him: they would recall all liberty parties, put everyone on the alert, and take the entire fleet to sea after dark under silence. The other two argued that this would violate the specific orders of Admiral Stark that nothing be done to alarm the people of Honolulu. Reluctantly Kimmel agreed and it was decided what they had already done “was still good and we would stick to it.”
At the Japanese Consulate in Honolulu Yoshikawa had been in touch with Tokyo all day. In one message he informed his superiors that there were still “no signs of barrage balloon equipment,” that the battleships had no torpedo nets, and that there was “considerable opportunity left to take advantage for a surprise attack” against Pearl Harbor and the Army airfields. A second message was equally encouraging: “It appears that no air reconnaissance is being conducted by the fleet air arm.” These messages were interrupted by the special U. S. Army monitoring station at Fort Shafter and airmailed as usual to Washington for decryption.
After his hectic day, Kimmel spent a few hours at a party but he went home early to get a good sleep. It was just another Saturday night to the citizens of Honolulu. Many were celebrating the 20–6 victory of the University of Hawaii over Willamette in the annual Shrine football classic.
At the White House, dinner for thirty-four was served at eight-ten, followed by a “violin musical” by Arthur LeBlanc.
Kurusu had accepted the invitation to dine at Belin’s estate in Georgetown. He repeated in substance what he had told Mayer that morning. Former Ambassador Belin was “astonished beyond measure” at the Japanese envoy’s frankness. And Mayer was now more certain than ever that Kurusu was “trying in the most desperate fashion to warn us of a momentary attack somewhere.”
At about 8:30 P.M. Kurusu was called to the telephone. He returned to inform the company that Roosevelt had just sent a personal appeal to the Emperor. This, remarked Kurusu, was “a clever move” since the Emperor could neither give a flat “no” or even “yes.” It was sure to cause “headaches in Tokyo and more thinking.”
After his dinner, Captain Ranneft was summoned to the home of Minister Loudon where he also found the military attaché, Weijerman. The minister told the two that he had just returned from the White House and that Roosevelt had told him he had sent a message to the Emperor. If there was no immediate answer, said the President, war would probably break out on Monday.
In the meantime, the first thirteen parts of the fourteen-part message to Ambassador Nomura had been decrypted. About 8:30 P.M. copies were turned over to Lieutenant Commander Kramer for delivery. He was unable to reach either Stark or Turner. The first was at the National Theater and Turner happened to be out walking one of his many Lhasa apso terriers. Kramer did manage to telephone Wilkinson and tell him “in cryptic terms” of the general sense of the thirteen parts. The Admiral instructed Kramer to take copies first to the White House, then to Knox and finally to the Wilkinson residence.
Using his wife as chauffeur, Kramer arrived at the White House shortly before nine-thirty and turned over a locked pouch to Lieutenant Lester Robert Schulz. The latter went directly to the Oval Office. The President was clipping stamps. “These are for the children at Warm Springs,” he told Schulz, who had accompanied him on the recent trip to Georgia. A few minutes later Roosevelt remarked to Harry Hopkins, “This means war.”
Kramer was already at the Wardman Park Hotel talking with Mrs. Knox and her guests, the O’Keiths, while the Secretary of the Navy was studying the thirteen parts. Knox was concerned enough by what he read and the ominous significance of the fourteenth part that was yet to come that he telephoned both Stimson and Hull to set up an emergency meeting of the trio at 10 A.M.
By this time Colonel Bratton had completed his deliveries. Then he drove home to Georgetown and telephoned Miles, who lived nearby. The general was not at home.
Miles was having dinner with Admiral Wilkinson and the two of them were reading the copy Kramer had recently delivered. Wilkinson thought it was just “a diplomatic paper … a justification of the position of Japan.” Miles agreed that it had “little military significance,” and there was “no reason for alerting or waking up the Chief of Staff.”
Marshall was not asleep but at a dinner party a few minutes’ drive from the White House. He was attending a reunion of World War veterans of the 1st Infantry Company, R.O.T.C.16 The gathering at the University Club on 16th Street, N.W., included Brigadier General Joseph A. Atkins, commander of the unit; Dr. A. M. Langford, dean of Peddie School; and Representative William P. Cole, Jr., of Maryland. The honored guest, General Marshall, was given a rousing “vote of confidence.”
General “Hap” Arnold was on his way to Hamilton Field, California, to oversee departure of thirteen B-17S which were to take off that night for Hawaii on the first leg of a flight to the Philippines. He arrived about midnight Washington time and warned the crews of the Flying Fortresses that they would “probably run into trouble somewhere along the line.” He had in mind the mandated islands in the vicinity of Truk.
Arnold also conferred with the commanding officer of Hamilton Field and his staff. “He brought word of the imminence of war with Japan and ordered the planes dispersed,” read the official history of Sacramento Air Service Command. “He is reported to have expressed stern disapproval of their being huddled together.” Since there were no revetments, the available pilots immediately began flying planes to other fields in the vicinity.
Army Air Corps planes on the island of Oahu were still huddled together, an approved Air Corps policy for protection from saboteurs.
In the Aleutians, PBY crews were almost exhausted from long daily reconnaissance patrols. Fortunately, recollected Captain James Bowers, a message had arrived that Saturday to “cease all activity which may be interpreted as hostile.” By now all patrols had been recalled and the flight crews were involved in “a great drinking bout.”
1In Hornbeck’s draft autobiography, he attempted to explain his faulty prediction: “…I made the mistake of yielding to an emotional urge and committing myself on record in terms of wishful thinking and gratuitous predicting.” In mid-November 1941 he had rebuked a young colleague for prophesying that Japan would go to war in desperation: “Name me one country in history which ever went to war in desperation!”
2The author asked a number of Tojo’s close associates what might have happened if Hull had clarified that point. General Kenryo Sato, learning the truth for the first time, slapped his forehead and said, “If we had only known!” Excitedly he added, “If you had said you recognized Manchuria, we’d have accepted!” General Teiichi Suzuki (director of the Cabinet Planning Board), Naoki Hoshino (Tojo’s secretary-general), and Finance Minister Okinori Kaya would not go that far. Kaya, a leading politician in the postwar period, said, “If the note had excluded Manchuria, the decision to wage war or not would have been re-discussed at great length. There’d have been heated arguments at liaison conferences over whether we should withdraw at once from North China in spite of the threat of Communism.” At least, said Suzuki, “Pearl Harbor would have been prevented. There might have been a change of government.”
3Seaman First Class Z, an officer after Pearl Harbor, is presently internationally renowned in his field for his accomplishments. His tapes have been monitored by Carolyn Blakemore and Ken McCormick of Doubleday & Co., and will eventually be open to researchers.
4There is no record of this message ever having been received. No one has admitted seeing it; no copy has been found in any file.
5After the war, former Secretary of Defense Dekkers told Ranneft that it was lucky he had not asked London for the blueprints. “We should have been obliged to answer ‘no.’ ” The U. S. Government eventually paid large sums to both Bofors and Hazemeyer-Signaal.
6Dr. Field, who became one of the world’s leading anthropologists, recently revealed that years later he requested specific information on the project. “Dr. Conrad Taueber, director of the Bureau of the Census at the time, replied that no record of this assignment could be found! Apparently, our security measures were entirely successful.” In 1980, the Freedom of Information Act notwithstanding, the associate director for administration, Bureau of the Census, wrote the author: “Apparently there is some misunderstanding regarding the assistance which the Bureau actually made. Our records indicate that no request for services was made to the Census Bureau prior to the attack on Pearl Harbor by President Roosevelt or any other administrative official.” A request to Miss ‘Tully for an interview on the subject was refused. “I’m sorry to tell you that I have nothing worthwhile to contribute to your project.”
7Pease was killed in an air crash in 1945.
8Burns was later three-time governor of Hawaii. Taped interviews of the John A. Burns Oral History Project were conducted in 1975 by Stuart Gerry Brown, Daniel Boylan and Paul Hooper of the University of Hawaii Department of American Studies. Burns was cross-examined by all three on this issue. Professor Hooper told this author he was convinced Burns was telling the truth; he knew he was dying.
9A full and more accurate account of this episode will appear in the forthcoming biography of Nover by his widow. Captain Ranneft asserts he was not the Dutch official mentioned above. It may have been Colonel F. G. L. Weijerman, the military attaché, now deceased.
10Safford believed it was December 4 but Briggs today thinks it may have been earlier. See Notes.
11According to the biographer of William Stephenson, the man called “Intrepid,” the British had “planted” these documents with the help of a sympathetic American captain. “The primary aim of this deception was to use isolationist channels as a means of revealing to Hitler a ‘secret plan’ calculated to provoke him into a declaration of war. Even if the Japanese attacked British and American bases without warning, the British feared that the United States would not declare war on Germany.”
12Of the four messages Thorpe sent, only two were found in War Department files: the censored one signed by Foote; and his own final message, which arrived without the paragraph warning of the Pearl Harbor attack. Somehow in transmission this vital information was deleted.
13After the war Tolley, whose ship was about to set sail when bombs fell on Oahu, was convinced the mission was only a trick to incite war with Japan. Lieutenant (later Captain) Buaas shared the belief that his ship was bait for the Japanese. “The true nature of our mission was to endeavor to locate Japanese ships and as such it was expected that our reporting would result in an incident in which the ship would probably be sunk.” Although Admiral Hart had the opportunity to tell the truth about the three small ships at the congressional hearings he did not do so. Later he admitted to Tolley that the Lanikai had been sent out as bait. “And I could prove it. But I won’t. And don’t you try either.”
Hanson Baldwin, the noted military analyst, also believed the three vessels had been intended as “tethered goats” to lure the Japanese. “In short, Roosevelt undoubtedly believed, like millions of Americans, that the United States’ vital interests required the nation’s entry into war, and in order to convince a large and reluctant portion of public opinion, he wanted the Japanese to strike first.”
14The letter was not mailed until after the attack on Pearl Harbor. The President then wrote a postscript in longhand: “This was dictated Friday morning—long before this vile attack started.”
15“Had I known what I later learned,” Fellers wrote Kimmel in 1967, “I would have alerted Washington, Panama, Pearl Harbor, and the Philippines—come what may. I truly made a horrible mistake which I’ll regret to the end.”
16The December 7, 1941, issue of the Washington Times-Herald reported on p. A-23 that Marshall had attended this reunion dinner at the University Club the previous evening. See Notes.