A Patriot's History of the Modern World (69 page)

Japanese soldiers had been inundated with propaganda about the brutality of the Americans, which, when coupled with Bushido, explains why surrender was considered dishonorable to oneself and one's family. With the invasion of the Philippines in late 1944, widespread use of leaflets encouraging the Japanese to surrender helped increase the ratio of Japanese prisoners-to-killed from one in one hundred to one in seven by 1945. But already Americans had become convinced that the defeated foe must be impressed with the reality of who actually won. Some G.I.s in Europe, for example, wanted all Germans to feel the full effects of the terrors of war. One 101st Airborne soldier wrote, “Unless we take the horror of battle to Germany itself, unless we fight in their villages, blowing up their houses…unless we litter their streets with horribly rotten German corpses as was done in France, the German will prepare for war, unmindful of its horrors.”
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Most, however, surprised their officers by continuing to see the enemy as “men just like us.”
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Throughout the conflict, the War Department
worried that soldiers who “lack vindictiveness are probably standing on the shaky ground of too much identification of the enemy as a human being…. These men need to be convinced that America's very survival depends upon killing the enemy with cold, impersonal determination.”
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These admissions were fully in keeping with the broad outlines of the “Western way of war” in that more than other societies, the West (and in particular, America) had a deep reverence for the sanctity of life that was breached only occasionally—and with extensive groundwork—by societies such as Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. Ostensibly, both the Germans and Japanese were “Westernized,” and supposedly were just soldiers like Americans. This similarity, however, was superficial at best, for the ideologies that lay behind those enemy forces proved themselves radically different from those of the United States and Britain. American commanders applied American law to limit brutality and crime against civilians by military personnel, but even when such actions occurred, crime by American soldiers was minuscule compared with the other warring nations, and only 140 U.S. soldiers were executed for murder and rape.
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American soldiers, sailors, and Marines found themselves struggling for their lives on previously unknown or unimportant beaches or desolate tracts of ocean. Pacific islands that few Americans had even heard of before December 7, 1941, became the topics of household conversations, and Guadalcanal probably was the single most discussed battle on the home front in 1942. In jungle fighting there, repeated
banzai
attacks without regard to losses were turned back with difficulty: the Japanese seemed to seek death, and the Marines obliged them whenever possible. Both Marines and the U.S. Army remembered combat there for its ferocity, horror, even occasional surrealistic quality. Frank Mathias, an Army saxophonist, recalled huddling in the rain-soaked foxholes at night hearing the Japanese, just a dozen yards away, shout obscenities to the Americans in the few phrases of English they knew: “Babe Ruth eat $@&!” Obligingly, the Americans yelled back, “Tojo eats @$#!” But when the attacks came, there was no mercy, and certainly no humor.
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When the Imperial Navy conducted its evacuation of troops from Guadalcanal, only one third remained.
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Equally important, Japan lost six hundred planes, and in the vast majority of cases, the pilots and aircrews were lost with the aircraft. Aircraft were replaceable, but the crews were not, a factor all the more significant in Japan's case because of their practice of training only a small number of pilots to be a truly elite and highly capable
weapon. After Guadalcanal, neither the Japanese Army pilots nor their naval aviation counterparts exhibited the high degree of competence they had displayed in the first nine months of the war. The individual Japanese soldier was courageous to the point of self-sacrificing, but the material power of the United States coupled with the bravery of its soldiers could not be overcome.

Erecting a defense perimeter from Burma to the Aleutian Islands (after occupying two American islands, Attu and Kiska), Japan spread its forces throughout the Pacific. Japanese war planners expected the U.S. forces to break on this perimeter like waves on the beach—doing damage, but then receding. This played into the long-term strategy by the imperial planners, which recognized they could not achieve genuine victory, but could raise the stakes so high that a favorable negotiated peace could be obtained. It would be the code of Bushido that would be decisive. They expected the “soft” Americans to shy away from the heavy casualties fighting Japanese soldiers would entail, and seek to end the war since the Western Pacific was not a strategic area for the United States (as seen through Japanese eyes). But American military leadership, General Douglas MacArthur in Australia and Admiral Chester Nimitz in Hawaii, developed a strategy of “island hopping,” picking various islands of strategic value to assault because they had or could have airstrips, and leaving the garrisons on the others to starve from neglect. MacArthur originated the strategy, but both South Pacific and Central Pacific commands employed it with great effectiveness. It minimized casualties and sidelined large numbers of Japanese troops on islands not sufficiently important to attack, and beyond the Imperial Navy's ability to keep supplied.

Although FDR and Churchill had agreed on a “Europe first” strategy, the first ground victories for American forces took place in the Pacific as the Rising Sun began its long descent into darkness. MacArthur began his “Return to the Philippines” campaign within four months of landing in Australia by strengthening the defenses of Port Moresby, on the south side of New Guinea, facing the continent. Australia was nearly defenseless, and most of the nation's troops were in North Africa fighting Rommel or defending India. While MacArthur hounded Army chief of staff George C. Marshall for more men, Australian prime minister John Curtin pleaded with Churchill for the return of the “Diggers” from North Africa to defend their homeland. Two Australian divisions were hurriedly retrieved from North Africa in March and April, over the objection of Churchill, who insisted
there were “no signs of such mass invasion [by the Japanese].”
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MacArthur went about scraping up what troops he could find, and in September the Japanese were halted by Australian troops as they approached Port Moresby from Buna following the Kakoda Trail. An Allied counterattack back over the Owen Stanley Mountains forced the Japanese back to the north side of New Guinea. In an extraordinarily difficult campaign, MacArthur's forces secured Buna in February of 1943, giving the Japanese another defeat to report to their emperor.

Douglas MacArthur, born in 1880, was born to military greatness. His father, Arthur MacArthur, had won the Medal of Honor when he was just a scrawny, nineteen-year-old adjutant of the 24th Wisconsin Regiment by leading the successful charge up Missionary Ridge above Chattanooga during the Civil War.
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Raised as an army brat, Douglas spent his childhood on a series of Army posts in the West, learning to ride and shoot at a young age. His domineering and controlling mother moved to a nearby hotel when young MacArthur attended West Point, specifically to keep an eye on him. Displaying an exemplary record of scholarship, MacArthur graduated first in his class in 1903, then received a posting to the Philippines where he killed two guerrillas who attempted to ambush his working party.

MacArthur was tall with a commanding presence, and he learned to carefully cultivate an image of superiority in all things. He rose rapidly through the ranks, and as a staff officer on the expedition to Veracruz in 1914, he distinguished himself through his initiative, finding needed locomotives in a neighboring town, and shooting five Mexican horsemen while receiving four bullet holes in his clothes. Like George Washington, he seemed impervious to enemy fire, a trait always appreciated by his troops, who took his invincibility for their own. MacArthur was recommended for a Medal of Honor for his exploit, but since the reconnaissance had been unauthorized, the approval board declined to endorse the citation. In World War I, as chief of staff of the Rainbow Division, he won the French Croix de Guerre for taking part in a French raid on German positions. Promoted to brigadier general, he developed an unforgettable persona in appearance, removing the ring that stiffened his cap, sporting a corncob pipe, jauntily carrying a riding crop (an affectation that many officers would later copy with a “swagger stick”), and wearing a bright sweater, which only reinforced the image of his disdain for enemy fire. This showmanship would pay dividends, and the general's flamboyance was not lost on George S. Patton, who would similarly polish his public persona. Yet despite MacArthur's air of
invincibility, he was wounded three times and was awarded seven Silver Stars, two Distinguished Service Crosses, two Croix de Guerres, and the Distinguished Service Medal. Again he was recommended for a Medal of Honor, but received a Distinguished Service Cross instead. By the end of the war he was a major general and in command of the 42nd (Rainbow) Division.

After the war MacArthur married—much to his mother's disapproval—and was shipped off to the Philippines again, where he might have languished in that backwater. Instead, although his marriage fell apart (while he was in Manila a reporter showed him an AP wire that his wife had divorced him in Reno), MacArthur was appointed Army chief of staff. In this capacity, he received a great deal of criticism for ordering the dispersal of the “Bonus Army” of veterans that descended on Washington in 1932 to demand immediate payment of their military service certificates (or bonuses). Almost unnoticed at the time was the participation of Major Dwight D. Eisenhower and Major George S. Patton in the same action. MacArthur unequivocally stated—even later when he wrote his memoirs—that the riots were caused by Communist agitators. Nevertheless, his role in the Bonus Army attack permanently marred his reputation.

During the Roosevelt administration, MacArthur's constant drumbeating for a stronger military made him unpopular in a White House focused on domestic issues. A convenient solution was found by appointing him military adviser to the Philippines while simultaneously installing him as field marshal of the Philippine Army. MacArthur threw himself into creating a legitimate army there, but lack of money and resources seriously hampered his efforts. His doting mother accompanied him this time to the Philippines, as did Major Dwight Eisenhower.

In July of 1941 when the Soviet Army was reeling from the German onslaught and FDR imposed his oil embargo on Japan, MacArthur was recalled to duty as commanding general, U.S. Army Forces in the Far East. The sins of unpreparedness in the United States were visited upon him, and MacArthur and his men in the Philippines paid the price, made all the more surreal when FDR ordered him to Australia and (finally) awarded him a Medal of Honor. An embarrassed MacArthur made a solemn promise to the people of the Philippines: “I shall return.” Not “we shall return” or “the United States shall return”—it was a personal pledge made by the man biographer William Manchester called an “American Caesar.”
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Admiral Chester Nimitz, similar to MacArthur in his tall and distinguished
bearing, had none of “Caesar's” showmanship and unbounded ambition. (Actually most top American commanders were exceedingly tall: Nimitz, Spruance, MacArthur, Eisenhower, Patton, Omar Bradley, Mark Clark, King, and many others, leading one historian to comment that in the United States height was considered integral to leadership.) When Nimitz told his wife after Pearl Harbor he had been named to replace Admiral Husband E. Kimmel as commander in chief of the Pacific Fleet, she reminded him that that was what he always wanted—command of the fleet. “Darling,” he replied, “the fleet's at the bottom of the sea.”
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Fifty-six years old when he was tapped to replace Kimmel, Nimitz looked ten years older due to his already silver hair. Born in Fredericksburg, Texas, Nimitz was raised by his grandfather, a former seaman in the German merchant marine. Staying close to his German heritage, Nimitz grew up bilingual. He wanted to attend West Point, but the local congressman, James Slayden, had no appointments available so he asked young Nimitz if he would take an examination for the U.S. Naval Academy. Nimitz, eager to better himself and recognizing this as an opportunity, took the examination and won the appointment, although he had never heard of the Naval Academy before.

With his natural self-discipline and hard work coupled with a likable personality matched only by Eisenhower's, Nimitz rose steadily in the Navy. Although he preferred sea duty and disliked service in Washington, he understood that power was gained in the capital through connections and social graces. In 1939, he received a plum assignment as chief of the Bureau of Navigation, a misnomer for what later became the Bureau of Personnel. In that position he controlled personnel assignments, and would be automatically considered for the next top post of his choosing, which came on December 16, 1941. Admiral Kimmel's name was irrevocably associated with the Pearl Harbor disaster, and Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox suggested Nimitz to Roosevelt, in part because the Texan could get along well with Admiral Ernest J. King, the irascible chief of naval operations. Roosevelt agreed. “Tell Nimitz,” he said, “to get the hell out to Pearl and stay there till the war is won.” Indeed, Nimitz hopped a Navy plane and, despite no rest and motion sickness, commanded the pilot to give him an aerial tour of Pearl. What he saw shocked him: even though the attack had taken place more than two weeks earlier, wreckage was still strewn everywhere. Nimitz addressed the officers, refused to assign blame, and coolly informed them that while it would be a long haul, the United States Navy would soon exact vengeance.