Rising Sun (34 page)

As they reached the outer line of bunkers, American bodies began to be found among the Japanese. Some had tried to retreat and been shot and hacked for their efforts, while others were clearly facing toward the enemy. Gavin seethed. He wondered what else he could have done to save his men. He had little artillery, no armor, and the weather had stripped him of any air cover, or even the ability to shoot the Japs at long range. The sight of so many American dead would haunt him for the rest of his days.

A number of bunkers had been bypassed by the Japanese human wave, and the Americans inside them were too shocked to do anything but wave feebly in relief.

A few yards in front of the first defense line, a dead American sergeant lay sprawled and mangled in front of a charred Japanese tank. He looked vaguely familiar. What had happened? Had the American killed the tank? He hoped they would somehow find out. The dead American might just deserve a medal.

They came to a trench filled with Japanese bodies. The arm of an American soldier, recognizable thanks to his skin color and his uniform, pointed to the sky.

“Poor bastard,” Gavin muttered and looked away.

“Hey, the guy’s hand just moved!”

Gavin and other soldiers moved quickly and feverishly to pull Japanese bodies from the trench. Several American bodies were removed, but they were clearly dead. Finally, they came to the man who owned the arm. He was breathing but covered with blood. A medic jumped into the hole and started to treat him. Like the sergeant by the tank, the GI looked familiar. Gavin finally put a name to this face—Farris. He’d been one of the first to make it through from the south.

The medic looked up in dismay. “Jesus, Colonel, I sure as hell hope not all of this blood belongs to this poor guy.”

CHAPTER 18

DANE’S CURRENT JOB WAS TO SIT BY THE PHONE AND WAIT FOR the late Wilhelm Braun’s assistant, Krause, to call back so he could give him the answer from Washington. The FBI was ready to trace the call, but it was assumed that the call would be brief and from a pay phone, and, therefore, effectively untraceable.

Dane didn’t think Krause would be unhappy with the response. Harris had bumped upward the German’s suggestion that he be given a full pardon and freedom in return for information that would lead to the destruction of the Japanese fleet, and gotten the only possible response possible—go for it. Dane recalled that Churchill said something to the effect that he would praise the devil in Parliament if it would ensure victory against the Nazis, and this was indeed a devilish pact.

In Dane’s opinion, Krause was a saboteur and a cold-blooded murderer of Americans, and he was going to go free in return for his help. So be it. If it saved American lives, it would be worth it. If Krause was going to be punished, it would be in another life. If he cooperated, the United States would have no interest in his future. Nor did his efforts have to result in the enemy’s destruction, which was a vague and subjective term. All Krause had to do was make a good-faith effort.

Amanda had also agreed as they discussed it over dinner at a local restaurant. “I’ve seen too many wounded young men. Do whatever can be done to end it, Tim, even if it means paying such a price.” She had paused thoughtfully. “In fact, I don’t think it’s much of a price at all.”

The war had also gotten even more personal. Dane had heard from a friend that his nephew Steve had been badly wounded in the battle against the Japanese in Alaska, which the radio and newspapers were trumpeting as a great victory. It had been reported that the Japanese army assaulting Fairbanks had been annihilated. This was no surprise to Tim as he’d predicted there would be few if any prisoners taken and this had been borne out.

It had indeed been a victory but at a great price. Several hundred Americans had been killed or wounded in the final battle. He had no idea how bad Steve’s wounds were or if he would recover. If using a Nazi like Krause helped end the slaughter, so be it. Amanda’s friend Sandy had been informed that her erstwhile boyfriend had been wounded, but seemed strangely unconcerned, leaving Tim and Amanda to think that any ardor they’d felt was cooling rapidly.

It was difficult for Dane to think of either Braun or Krause as spies and saboteurs. After the shooting, Harris had taken him on a tour of the two men’s quarters above their phony engineering company, and what Dane had seen was sad and banal. The two Nazi supermen had been living in a small two-bedroom flat above a nondescript shop filled with what could only be described as junk. An old truck was in the first-level garage, while the upper living level was filled with cheap furniture, dirty laundry, unmade beds, and littered floors. Nor did it look like they did any cooking. Carry-out food containers, much of it from local Chinese restaurants, filled stinking wastebaskets to overflowing.

Both Amanda and he had laughed over the so-called glamorous and dramatic life of a spy as seen in movies and written about in novels. Comparing it with the reality of dirty underwear on the floor of a small apartment was a letdown. The two Germans were slobs, not supermen.

A bedroom closet in the Germans’ apartment was stuffed with enough detonators and dynamite to blow up a city block if improperly handled. The two Germans did know what to do with the stuff, but Dane and Harris shuddered at the thought of someone breaking in, poking around, and causing a tragic accident.

When the phone finally did ring, it surprised Dane and he jumped. “Commander Dane,” he answered a trifle pompously.

“Krause, Commander. My sources have informed me that your president has concurred with my wishes.”

“Yes, and how did you find out?”

“Because my associate in the Swiss embassy was kind enough to phone me. He has in his possession a letter agreeing with my wishes, signed by Roosevelt and General Marshall, which he will retain on my behalf. You will receive another original if you haven’t already, and you will give me a photographic copy. All I have to do is make a good-faith attempt to divert the Japanese fleet to a location of your choosing and I can live my life at peace in the United States. Perhaps I’ll even become a citizen. Since battles are unpredictable, it is accepted that there is no guarantee that you will destroy or even defeat the Japanese, but that is your concern, not mine.”

The German’s confidence annoyed Dane. “Krause, you do realize that you will be incarcerated for the duration of the war so you cannot change your mind and possibly try to contact your old Nazi buddies, don’t you?”

Krause chuckled. “Of course. I never thought you would be so stupid as to let me go free just now. Goodness, wouldn’t it be awful if I changed my mind and tried to warn the slanty-eyed Japs? The letter from Roosevelt said I would be kept at a residence on the naval base at San Diego where I could monitor what is happening and where you could watch my every move. Remember, it might just take more than one contact with the fools Braun and I left behind in Mexico for things to happen.”

“Are you ready to turn yourself in?”

“Do I have a choice? Of course I am.”

“I’ll arrange to get you. Where are you?”

Krause laughed hugely, further annoying Dane. “I’m downstairs in your lobby. Your security is still pathetic.”

* * *

Two days later, Harry Hopkins flew in from Washington D.C., where he observed Krause from behind a one-way window. “Calm-looking bastard, isn’t he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? He’s lived up to the first part of his agreement,” said Spruance. “He sent a message to Mexico by shortwave. Commander Dane here watched him.”

“What did he say and how did he say it?” Hopkins asked Dane.

“Sir, the message was sent shortwave and in Morse code. He told me he usually sent the messages since the now dead Braun was poor with telegraphing the code and made a lot of mistakes. He told his men in Monterrey that, quote—The customer you wish to contact is ill and will be recuperating at a spa in the Gulf of California in about three weeks and will be there for about a month. It is anticipated that several other family members will also be present. If you wish to make contact, please make plans immediately—unquote.”

“And this went out in plain English?” Hopkins asked, bemused.

“Yes, sir,” Tim responded. “A very simple, innocuous message that no one would give a second thought to.”

“Clever. Admiral, will the Germans in Mexico be picked up?”

Spruance turned to Dane who answered. “Not just yet, sir. We may have to send and receive other messages, and, also, picking them up might alert the enemy. However, the FBI has men down there watching them.”

Dane hoped that the agents in Monterrey would be a little smarter than the local cops who’d let themselves be discovered by Braun and Krause while watching Swenson Engineering.

“Very well,” said Hopkins. “Now we can begin planning at this end.”

* * *

Admiral Yamamoto read the message from the navy’s headquarters in Tokyo with a combination of delight and concern. The
Saratoga
had been found and she was in bad shape. She needed significant repairs that would take several weeks. What her precise problems were and what caused them were not mentioned, nor were they particularly important. What was important was that she would be in North American waters and the message warned that an attack on her would be dangerous.

He laughed at those concerns. Dangerous? War was dangerous. So too was crossing the street in downtown Tokyo. Doing nothing was even more dangerous and could even prove fatal. Danger was a chance to be taken.

As before, he was on board the
Yamato
and his guests were Admirals Kurita and Nagumo. Both men had read the reports and both had serious doubts about their validity. Still, they had toasted the good news that the American carrier had been located with some of Yamamoto’s limited supply of good scotch.

“Can we believe this?” the dour and somber Nagumo asked. “How can we risk our carriers on such flimsy information?”

Kurita nodded. “And it may well be a trap to get our carriers close to American planes and guns.”

Yamamoto took a deep breath. Neither of the other admirals had ever been a gambler, yet gambles were sometimes necessary. The Japanese Navy had to do something to break what had become a stalemate in the Pacific. Granted, the Imperial Japanese Navy had been victorious in so many battles, but, as he’d said earlier, the United States was getting stronger and smarter each day. It was not the time for caution. It was the time for aggression, and yes, for taking chances. However, taking chances and being reckless were not the same thing.

Yamamoto smiled. “We will seek out and destroy that carrier and, by doing so, we will send American hopes reeling. And I believe we can do it without risking our fleet.”

“How?” asked Kurita. He commanded the battleships and these were most vulnerable to American land-based planes. They had to get close to shore for their guns to be effective. Nagumo commanded the two carrier divisions.

“It is quite simple,” Yamamoto answered. “We will attack the Americans quickly and suddenly, and with overwhelming strength. We will conserve the fleet by risking it. Nor will we take half measures. It will be an all or nothing toss of the dice, just as we did at Pearl Harbor.”

Nagumo persisted. “And if it turns out that the Americans are too formidable?”

Yamamoto smiled and took a healthy swallow of his scotch. He openly hoped that the war would end soon so he could get some more. Perhaps he could arrange for a few cases to be sent to him as war reparations from the British.

“The Americans are in disarray,” he said. “They are trying to defend far too much. While I mourn for the men lost in Alaska, their defeat was ordained and has nothing to do with what we shall accomplish in the Gulf of California. The army made a terrible mistake in landing at Anchorage. We, the navy, will make no such mistakes.”

Nagumo shook his head. “I urge caution. Your plan is good, but I disagree as to the possible price. It may well be unacceptably high. One carrier for one of theirs is a fair price; even two of ours for their last one would be acceptable. But what if the price was higher? What if we lost three? And don’t forget that they don’t have to be sunk to be out of the war.”

Yamamoto squirmed inwardly. Outwardly he was his normal, composed self. “We will continue to plan for the attack. We will also, however, confirm what we have been told and attempt to evaluate the risks involved. But mark my words, I want that carrier destroyed.”

* * *

Lieutenant General John DeWitt was again trying to control his anger. Once again, he thought, this son of a bitch Hopkins was trying to tell him how to run his army, his command, and all the way from Washington, no less. Worse, he had to take it. Admirals Spruance and Nimitz were obviously trying not to laugh at his discomfiture, but he wondered how loudly they’d guffaw once they were alone. He was being mocked and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

The navy was trying to take over the army, and that was intolerable. There was a war on and DeWitt had been tasked to protect the people of the West Coast from invasion, while the navy’s assignment had been to keep the Jap fleet from our shores. In DeWitt’s opinion, the navy had failed miserably while the army had succeeded in defeating the Japs in Alaska, so why was there this rush to give the sailors even more authority?

Nimitz tried to be conciliatory. “General, I know how much you must dislike this arrangement, but I assure you it is only temporary.”

“You have no idea what I am thinking, Admiral,” DeWitt snapped with more anger than he’d intended.

“Enough,” said Hopkins. “The situation requires one commander, at least for the time being, and that one commander is going to be Admiral Nimitz. Quite seriously, General, if the command structure is that distasteful, then a replacement for you can be found.”

Bluff called, DeWitt thought, and pulled back. “Of course I will comply and obey, Mr. Hopkins, but I do wonder at the necessity of it all.”

Hopkins sighed. “It’s because the president has signed off on a risky and daring venture that requires all people to be not only on the same page, but reading the same word and understanding the same meaning. We may have an opportunity to cause great harm to the Japanese and it is essential that army and navy efforts be coordinated to the utmost. There can be no mistakes, no confusion as to who is in charge, and no missed or misunderstood communications.”

DeWitt was somewhat mollified. More than anything, he wanted the Japanese to pay for Pearl Harbor and the Philippines. At least the destruction of the Japanese force that had landed at Anchorage had been not only an army victory, but a nationwide morale booster. Of course, he had to admit that the navy’s smashing of the Japanese reinforcement force had played an important role as well.

Nimitz continued. “Simply put, General, we hope to trap at least a large part of the Japanese fleet near our shores and either defeat or destroy it. We hope we have led the Japanese to believe that the
Saratoga
will be in the Gulf of California in a while, and we absolutely need the army’s planes to help support the ambush we hope to spring.”