Target Tokyo: Jimmy Doolittle and the Raid That Avenged Pearl Harbor (50 page)

The lack of widespread damage did little to comfort Yamamoto, who was physically sickened by the news of the attack. The veteran admiral who once had two fingers blown off in the Russo-Japanese War retreated to his stateroom aboard the battleship
Yamato
, refusing to come out. His chief steward, Heijiro
Omi, had never seen the admiral so depressed. Yamamoto battled the shame of having failed not only the emperor and the people of Tokyo but even his own mistress, Chiyoko Kawai, who was in bed with pleurisy at the time of the raid, a scene she captured in her diary. “Helped in my hard-labored breathing and got up in spite of myself. Abandoned by doctors, there is no other way but to leave myself in the hand of destiny,” she wrote. “Sad indeed.”

Yamamoto’s incapacitation left Rear Admiral Matome Ugaki to handle the attack’s fallout. Early reports showed that the raiders had used twin-engine bombers—Ugaki incorrectly speculated about possible B-26s—and had targeted at least nine spots in Tokyo, plus others in Yokohama, Yokosuka, Nagoya, Wakayama, and Kobe. Ugaki learned that one of the bombers had hit the bow of the submarine tender
Taigei
—undergoing conversion to an aircraft carrier—while reports claimed another targeted Niitsu’s oil wells in Niigata Prefecture. Early casualty figures revealed that the attacks had killed twelve and wounded more than a hundred. The raiders had burned fifty houses and left another fifty partly or completely destroyed. Ugaki could not figure out how the bombers had escaped. Did the planes return to carriers or fly on to Russia or China?

The Japanese bombers and fighters that had sortied shortly before 1 p.m. had flown as far out as seven hundred miles without locating the enemy task force. By 5 p.m.—and with no sign of the attackers—Ugaki could do little more than vent. “We have missed him again and again. This is more than regrettable, because this shattered my firm determination never to let the enemy attack Tokyo or the mainland,” he wrote in his diary. “If the enemy carried out attacks from such a long distance, which is about the same as an expected one-way attack, we shall have to revise our countermeasures fundamentally, studying their type planes. In any case, this is one up to the enemy today. As we have no information whether he’ll attack again tomorrow, going north toward Hokkaido or south heading for Marcus and Wake, we shall have to let it up to him.”

Erroneous reports of new attacks kept Japanese leaders on edge. At 2:02 a.m. on April 19 observation posts at Sawara, Kagoshima, and Togane all reported hearing large explosions and issued an aircraft alert. Two flying boats took off at 2:45 a.m. to search the waters east of Tokyo, but found nothing. The Japanese lifted the alarm half an hour later, but as a precaution kept fighters
in the air and dozens more on a fifteen-minute standby alert. A 12:15 p.m. telephone call from the central military district claimed enemy planes had been sighted over Osaka and the suburb of Sakae. More than two dozen fighter and scout planes again roared into the skies, only to learn that several Japanese bombers had triggered the false alarm. These measures coincided with a search of the waters out to seven hundred miles by eighteen land-based bombers.

Reports indicated the enemy task force might head north, creating fear of a raid on Hokkaido. No one had heard from the doomed
Nitto Maru
or the
Nagato Maru
, though Ugaki learned that the Americans had damaged at least three other picket boats. Twenty-four hours after the raid the casualty count climbed to as many as 363 killed and injured. “The reason,” Ugaki wrote in his diary, “for the comparatively large number of casualties versus the number of bombs might be splinters from our own antiaircraft fire.” News that at least one American bomber had crashed in China initially added to the confusion. “What relation there was between the powerful enemy task force sighted in the east sea of Japan yesterday and the movement of this Army air force is still beyond our judgment,” Miwa wrote in his diary. “Did they take off from carriers? Did they operate separately, or, did they intend a simultaneous attack?”

Ugaki did soon catch a break. The Japanese captured five raiders, though the initial interrogation reports out of China proved a muddled mess, thanks to the wild and conflicting stories made by members of the
Bat out of Hell
’s crew. Harold Spatz had told interrogators that the aviators took off from a fictitious island west of Midway, while Bobby Hite claimed the men flew from the Aleutians. One check of the charts revealed to veteran sailor Ugaki that it was all bogus. “They never told the truth,” he griped in his diary. “It couldn’t be helped, as the interrogators must have been some army officers of lower rank with little knowledge of foreign languages and the sea. We must investigate further promptly so that we can take proper measures for the future.”

Even through the blatant falsehoods the Japanese gleaned some valuable details, deducing that at least thirteen North American B-25s—each with a five-man crew—all headed for China. Based on that, Ugaki pieced together the plan. “What the enemy intended in this attack, I suppose, was to launch long-distance planes from converted carriers after closing in our homeland supported
by carriers, heavy cruisers, and destroyers. After flying over our homeland, the bombers were to go to the mainland of China, where they would use bases for carrying out raids on our country. In view of this recent success, undoubtedly the enemy will repeat this kind of operation while attempting raids from China. Therefore, we must take steps to watch far to the east and, at the same time, always keep a sharp lookout on the threat from the west.”

By the following evening—and after the Americans failed to attack Hokkaido—Japan suspended Tactical Method No. 3 against the U.S. Fleet, the nation’s plan for the defense of the homeland. Even forty-eight hours after the raid, Ugaki clearly was still irritated. “The enemy, already withdrawn far to the east, through radio must have observed our confusion with contempt,” he wrote. “Thus, our homeland has been air raided and we missed the enemy without firing a shot at him. This is exceedingly regrettable.” Yamamoto had since recovered and shared the outrage. “One has the embarrassing feeling of having been caught napping just when one was feeling confident and in charge of things. Even though there wasn’t much damage, it’s a disgrace that the skies over the imperial capital should have been defiled without a single enemy plane being shot down. It provides a regrettably graphic illustration of the saying that a bungling attack is better than the most skillful defense.”

The Japanese had transferred the crew of the
Bat out of Hell
to Nanking, where after waterboarding and other tortures the airmen had talked. Ugaki knew by April 21 that the
Hornet
, loaded with sixteen bombers, had left San Francisco around the first of the month accompanied by two cruisers, four destroyers, and a tanker, joining up at sea with another carrier plus more cruisers and destroyers. He knew that detection by the Japanese had prompted the early takeoff and that the bombers had flown due west across the Boso Peninsula to targets. Ugaki not only knew that all the fliers were volunteers, but he knew the approximate wind speed across the carrier’s deck at takeoff. Ugaki’s frustration over the raid appeared tempered only by his professional curiosity and even admiration for the plan’s ingenuity. “How the sixteen planes were accommodated remained unsolved,” he wrote. “Work harder to solve the riddle!”

A final tally revealed that the attack obliterated no fewer than 112 buildings—containing 180 units—and damaged another 53 buildings, with 106 units. In Tokyo, raiders
had torched more than 50 buildings around the Asahi Electrical Manufacturing Corporation’s Oku factory, another 13 around the National Hemp Dressing Corporation along with the Communication Ministry’s transformer station. In nearby Kanagawa Prefecture, they targeted the foundries, factories, and warehouses of the Japanese Steel Corporation and Showa Electric. They had blasted the Yokosuka naval station and experimental laboratory and wrecked the Japan Diesel Corporation manufacturing in Saitama Prefecture. The attacks on Nagoya had completely burned one of Toho Gas Company’s massive storage tanks as well as damaged the Mitsubishi Heavy Industries aircraft factory. Six wards of the army hospital had gone up in flames, along with a food storage warehouse and army arsenal.

Civilians were not immune. The attack burned homes in places ranging from Tokyo to Kobe. A postwar analysis would count 87 men, women, and children killed in the raid and another 151 seriously injured, including a woman shellfishing near Nagoya who was shot through the left cheek and thigh. More than 311 others suffered minor injuries. Most of the deaths had occurred in just a few of the attacks— namely, those led by the pilots Hoover, Gray, Jones, and Joyce, which accounted for 75 of the mission’s total fatalities. The deaths of children in the attacks by Doolittle, Hallmark, Joyce, and Gray would become a flashpoint as newspapers in the weeks ahead begged parents of those killed to share their views on how Japan should treat the captured raiders. “One father wrote to a leading daily telling of the killing of his child in the bombing of the primary school,” stated the interrogation report of one Japanese prisoner of war. “He deplored the dastardly act and avowed his intention of avenging the child’s death by joining the army and dying a glorious death.”

While Ugaki and others in the Navy struggled to decipher the details of the raid, the Army and government likewise wrestled with the question of how to handle publicly the news of the attack, given the longstanding claim that such a raid was an impossibility. Japanese leaders juggled several goals, including informing the public and minimizing blame as well as covering up the abysmal fact that the defense forces failed to intercept or shoot down any of the bombers. On a larger level Japanese leaders wanted to paint themselves as victims in the inevitable propaganda war with the Americans. The official communiqués issued throughout the afternoon reflected
those goals and differed greatly from the frantic broadcasts intercepted by radiomen on the
Hornet
. That was evident by the first bulletin issued by Eastern District Army headquarters at 2 p.m.:

“Today, April 18, at about 12:30 p.m., enemy planes from several directions raided the Tokyo-Yokohama district. Countered by the air and land defense corps of the Imperial forces, the enemy raiders are being repulsed.

“Thus far nine enemy planes are known to have been shot down, while damage inflicted by the enemy appears to be slight.

“The Imperial Household is in no way affected, it has been learned.”

That was followed by a similar bulletin at 3 p.m. from the Central District Army headquarters, stating that two bombers had raided Nagoya, but caused only slight damage, while another had targeted Kobe with incendiary bombs, again without causing any real destruction. “The time has come,” the bulletin declared, “for the people to rise to the occasion by defending the sky courageously and with absolute confidence in victory.” Authorities with the Central Nippon Army headquarters put out more details an hour later, again deemphasizing the raid’s damage. “Incendiary bombs were dropped by the enemy at six different places in the vicinity of Nagoya, but they are practically extinguished by now,” the bulletin stated. “In Kobe one incendiary bomb each was dropped at three different places. They were, however, extinguished.”

Bulletins proved quick to congratulate the air defense forces, which not only were slow to sound the alarm but failed to shoot down any of the invaders. “The corps guarding the air was very prompt to locate the enemy planes, with the result that the air raid alarm could be sounded in time,” stated a 4:30 p.m. bulletin from the Eastern District Army headquarters. “Thanks to the efforts of the air and land defense units and the presence of mind and quick action of the people, the damage inflicted by the invading planes could be limited to the minimum.” The deceptive alerts stunned senior naval officers. “The Army announced that nine enemy planes were shot down, which was entirely untrue. In fact, even one enemy plane was not shot down,” Miwa wrote in his diary. “What for, I wonder, did the army make such a false announcement?”

At the same time the government sought to reassure the public, leaders looked to spin the raid for the rest of the world, as evidenced by a message from Foreign Minister
Shigenori Togo to Berlin that America intercepted: “In connection with the recent air attack by enemy planes, in order to circumvent enemy propaganda we had Domei and the radio broadcast the facts immediately to the outside world.” Japan’s version of the attack, playing up the civilian loss of life, went out over the airwaves in eight different languages. “This afternoon a few spots in Tokyo had some bombs dropped by enemy planes,” Japanese broadcasts declared. “The cowardly raiders purposely avoided the industrial centers and important military establishments, and blindly dumped their incendiaries in a few suburban districts, especially on schools and hospitals. The shameless raiders, however, were almost all downed by our surface guns and bombing planes, to the open view of the Tokyo residents who shouted Banzai at the sight.”

Newspaper headlines in the days after the attack parroted those themes, championing Japan’s alleged success in destroying nine American bombers, while others sought to assure the public that the nation’s air defense network was impenetrable. One of the more comical write-ups appeared in an April 22 editorial in the
Japan Times & Advertiser
, which boasted that of the hundreds of planes American flattops carry, only ten could penetrate Japan’s protected airspace. “The few enemy planes that did manage to slip through the defense cordon failed to get near any of the establishments of military importance which were too well guarded,” the paper boasted. “Hence the planes were forced to fly around aimlessly over the suburbs of Tokyo, dropping incendiary bombs on schools and hospitals, machine-gunning innocent civilians and hitting at least one elementary school pupil, before being brought down or driven away.”

The schizophrenic press, when not decrying the slaughter of civilians, portrayed the raid as so inconsequential that it had no effect on daily life. Even Emperor Hirohito could not be bothered to seek shelter, opting instead to listen to a 2 p.m. report on other matters from Home Minister Michio Yuzawa. Others noted that motion picture and stage theaters refused to cancel shows; the only exceptions were the Kabukiza and the Imperial Theater, which chose simply to postpone afternoon performances. Financial markets likewise took no hit; the press even bragged that the stock market opened stronger on Monday on news of the nation’s great defense. Public officials spoke out often in the media, describing the raid if anything as a
“valuable experience.” “Air raids are nothing to be feared,” stated Mamoru Shigemitsu, the ambassador to China, who was in England during the German blitz. “Compared with German raids on London, today’s air attacks cannot be called an air raid in any sense of the word.”