East Wind Rain

East
Wind
Rain
A novel of World War II in the Pacific
By
Dean Taylor
Word Count: 211489 1

Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. All incidents, and dialogue and all
characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public
figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be
construed as real. Where real life historical or public figures appear, the
situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning the persons are entirely
fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the
entirely fictional nature of this work. In all other respects, any
resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2010 by Dean Chase Taylor
All rights reserved.

Dedication
To the memory of all those who lost their lives, or were wounded, on
both sides of World War II in the Pacific.

Historical Note
The Background to War
On the eve of World War II in the Pacific Japan was a country of 73
million people, 100 million if the people of Korea and Formosa were
counted. The home islands of Japan had an area of only 375,000 square
kilometers slightly smaller than California. Much of the country was
mountainous and ill suited for agriculture. A growing population, rural
poverty, and food shortages caused the leadership to embark on an
expansionist policy
This brought her into conflict with her neighbors, China and Russia.
The first Sino-Japanese war resulted in the annexation of Korea and
Formosa. The Czar’s expansionist activity was responsible for the
Japanese surprise attack on the Russian Fleet in the Sea of Japan in 1906.
The unanticipated Japanese victory sent shock wave through the western
world because it was the first time a modern Asian nation had won a
military engagement with a western power.
Japan was complex economic, social, and cultural stew in which
feudal relationships and rigid hierarchical social structure caused great
political strains. In spite of the authoritarian nature of the constitution, the
religious veneration of the Emperor, and the competition between
democratic and fascistic ideologies, by the 1920’s Japan had made
considerable progress towards a democratic society. The development of
modern forms of business organization and development of a middle class

in the cities was accompanied with worsening conditions in the
countryside. The Army was increasingly comprised of people who came
from impoverished farm families. There was a right wing backlash that
began with the accession of Hirohito to the throne. A series of attempted
and successful political assassinations by idealistic young army officers
created a condition in which fear paralyzed the political process and by the
early 1930’s the Army and the Navy were in effective control of the
government.
Japan invaded Manchuria in 1931. International condemnation that
resulted was led by the United States along with Britain, France, the
Netherlands, and Australia. The furor over the conquest, and the creation
of the new state, Manchukuo, resulted in Japan leaving the League of
Nations in 1933. Japan, took over the former property of the Russians, the
South Manchurian Railroad, Mantetsu as it was called in Japanese. As the
economic agent of Japanese immigration into the vast empty spaces of
Manchuria. Mantetsu set up research sections to study the geography and
economy of the region and design a modern authoritarian state.
In January 1936 Japan withdrew from the Second London Naval
Disarmament Conference when it refused parity for Japanese naval forces
with other major navies, most notably the United States Navy. In July 1937
the Japanese Kwangtung Army faked an accident and blew up the “Marco
Polo” railroad bridge killing the Chinese General Chang-So-Lin. The
explosion was blamed on the Chinese and the Kwangtung Army began the

invasion of China. This “Mukdin Incident” is considered by most historians
to be the beginning of World War II in Asia.
China, a huge place, was then the most populous country in the
world with some 400 million people in the 1930‘s. This huge land mass was
characterized by a crowded coastal band of very high density, along with
several large cities, some of the most densely populated areas in the world.
China was weak, and disorganized, Poverty was the result of the fall of the
last Imperial Ching Dynasty and the establishment of a republic in 1911.
Sun Yat-sen’s Kuomintang Party tried to unify the country but was
undermined by the existence of local warlords, and a strong communist
opposition financed by the Soviet Union. China limped along after Sun‘'s
death under the Kuomintang General Chiang Kai-shek, who broke with the
communist party in 1937 by attacking them with his right wing army in
Canton and Shanghai. The communist unions and political organizers were
murdered in what came to be known as the “White Terror.”
Then the Japanese invaded China from their conquest territories in
Manchuria, and an invasion of Shanghai from ships off the coast at
Shanghai. In August and September Chiang Kai-shek committed the best of
his forces to the defense of Shanghai. The battle raged for weeks but the
attrition of Chinese forces was terrible as the Japanese gradually ground
them down. When Shanghai fell to the Japanese, 270,000 Chinese soldiers
along with some Chiang Kai-shek’s best officers were dead. The Japanese
casualties were only about 40,000 men.

A series of battles followed; In November-December, 1937 a
protracted struggle for Nanjing, and then another battle for Wuhan in
January-April 1938. The Chiang Kai-shek forces lost heavily with many
casualties. The Chinese losses in these campaigns amounted to almost half
a million men. Some 60% of China’s best German trained soldiers and 10%
of the best officers were killed.
Thereupon full-scale hostilities began between the two nations. The
Japanese landed near Shanghai, at the mouth of the Yangtze River, and
took Shanghai in November and the Chinese capital, Nanking, in December
1937. Chiang Kai-shek moved his government to Han-kou, one of the
Wuhan cities, which lay 435 miles west of Shanghai along the Yangtze. The
Japanese also pushed southward and westward from the Peking area into
Hopeh and Shansi provinces. In 1938 the Japanese launched several
ambitious military campaigns that brought them deep into the heart of
central China. They advanced to the northeast and west from Nanking,
taking Suchow and occupying the Wuhan cities. The Nationalists were
forced to move their government to Chungking in Szechwan Province,
about 500 miles west of the Wuhan cities.
The Japanese also occupied Canton and several other coastal cities
in South China in 1938. Nationalist Chinese resistance to these Japanese
advances was ineffective, primarily because the Nationalist leadership was
still more interested in holding their forces in reserve for a future struggle
with the Communists than in repelling the Japanese. By contrast, the

Communists, from their base in north-central China, began an increasingly
effective guerrilla war against the Japanese troops in Manchuria and
North China. The Japanese needed large numbers of troops to maintain
their hold on the immense Chinese territories and populations they
controlled. Of the 51 infantry divisions making up the Japanese Army in
1941, 38 of them, comprising about 750,000 men, were stationed in China
including Manchuria.
Japanese Policy: 1939-41
When war broke out in Europe in September 1939, the Japanese,
despite a series of victorious battles, had still not brought their war in
China to an end: on the one hand, the Japanese strategists had made no
plans to cope with the guerrilla warfare pursued by the Chinese; on the
other, the Japanese commanders in the field often disregarded the orders
of the supreme command at the Imperial headquarters and occupied more
Chinese territory than they had been ordered to take. Half of the Japanese
Army was thus still tied down in China when the commitment of Great
Britain and France to war against Germany opened up the prospect of
wider conquests for Japan in Southeast Asia and in the Pacific. Japan's
military ventures in China proper were consequently severely restricted.
The German victories over The Netherlands and France in the
summer of 1940 further encouraged the Japanese premier, Prince Konoye,
to look southward at those defeated powers' colonies and also, of course, at
the British and U.S. positions in the Far East. The island archipelago of the

Dutch East Indies, along with French Indochina and British-held Malaya
contained raw materials tin, rubber and petroleum essential to Japan's
industrial economy, and if Japan could seize these regions and incorporate
them into the empire, it could make itself virtually self-sufficient
economically and thus become the dominant power in the Pacific Ocean.
Since Great Britain was single-handedly confronting the might of the
Axis in Europe, the Japanese strategists had to reckon, primarily, with the
opposition of the United States to their plans for territorial
aggrandizement. When Japanese troops entered northern Indochina in
September 1940 (in pursuance of an agreement extorted in August from
the Vichy government of France), the United States uttered a protest.
Germany and Italy, by contrast, recognized Japan as the leading power in
the Far East by concluding with it the Tripartite, or Axis, Pact of Sept. 27,
1940: negotiated by Japanese foreign minister Matsuoka Yosuke, the pact
pledged its signatories to come to one another's help in the event of an
attack "by a power not already engaged in war." Japan also concluded a
neutrality pact with Stalin on April 13, 1941. On July 2, 1941, the Imperial
Conference decided to press the Japanese advance southward even at the
risk of war with Great Britain and the United States; and this policy was
pursued even when Matsuoka was relieved of office a fortnight later. On
July 26, in pursuance of a new agreement with Vichy France, Japanese
forces began to occupy bases in southern Indochina.

This time the United States reacted vigorously, not only freezing
Japanese assets under U.S. control but also imposing an embargo on
supplies of oil to Japan. Dismay at the embargo drove the Japanese naval
command, which had hitherto been more moderate than the army, into
collusion with the army's extremism. When negotiations with the Dutch of
Indonesia for an alternative supply of oil produced no satisfaction, the
Imperial Conference on September 6, at the high command's insistence,
decided that war must be undertaken against the United States and Great
Britain unless an understanding with the United States could be reached in
few weeks time. General Tojo Hideki, who succeeded Konoye as premier in
mid-October 1941, continued the already desperate talks. The United
States, however, persisted in making demands that Japan could not
concede: renunciation of the Tripartite Pact which would have left Japan
diplomatically isolated; the withdrawal of Japanese troops from China and
from Southeast Asia, a humiliating retreat from a commitment of four
years' standing.
When Cordell Hull, the U.S. Secretary of State, on Nov. 26, 1941, sent
an abrupt note to the Japanese bluntly requiring them to evacuate China
and Indochina and to recognize no Chinese regime other than that of
Chiang Kai-shek, the Japanese could see no point in continuing the talks.
Since peace with the United States seemed impossible, Japan set in
motion its plans for war, which would now necessarily be waged not only
against the United States but also against Great Britain. The existing war

effort of Great Britain depended on U.S. support. Her long-standing Far
Eastern colonies lay within the orbit of the projected Japanese expansion,
and against the Dutch East Indies that held the oil essential to Japanese
military enterprises. The evolving Japanese military strategy was based
on the peculiar geography of the Pacific Ocean with it’s many large and
small islands on the western side and none of any size except for Hawaii on
the eastern side of that great ocean.
Another factor was the relative weakness and unpreparedness of the
Allied military presence in western half of the Pacific. The Japanese
military planners looking at a chart saw no usable bases east of their own
Japanese held islands in the western Pacific.
Long standing Japanese intelligence gathering reveal that the
British, French, American, and Dutch military forces in the entire Pacific
region west of Hawaii amounted to only about 350,000 troops, most of
them lacking combat experience and being of disparate nationalities.
Allied air power in the Pacific was weak and consisted mostly of
obsolete planes.
If the Japanese, with their large, well-equipped armies that had been
battle-hardened in China, could quickly launch coordinated attacks from
their existing bases on certain Japanese-mandated Pacific islands, on
Formosa (Taiwan), and from Japan itself, they could overwhelm the Allied
forces.

Then overrun the entire western Pacific Ocean as well as Southeast
Asia, and then develop those areas' resources to their own military-
industrial advantage.
If successful in their campaigns, the Japanese planned to establish a
strongly fortified defensive perimeter extending from Burma in the west to
the southern rim of the Dutch East Indies and northern New Guinea in the
south and sweeping around to the Gilbert and Marshall islands in the
southeast and east.
The Japanese believed that any American and British counter
offensives against this perimeter could be easily repelled, after which those
nations would eventually seek a negotiated peace that would allow Japan
to keep her newly won empire.
Until the end of 1940 the Japanese strategists had assumed that any
new war to be waged would be against a single enemy. When it became
clear, in 1941, that the British and the Dutch as well as the Americans
must be attacked, a new and daring war plan was successfully sponsored
by the commander in chief of the Combined Fleet, Admiral Yamamoto
Isoroku. Yamamoto's plan envisioned two operations. Together they
involved the whole strength of his navy, which was composed of the
following ships: 10 battleships, six regular aircraft carriers, four auxiliary
carriers, 18 heavy cruisers, 20 light cruisers, 112 destroyers, 65
submarines, and 2,274 combat planes. The first operation, to which all six
regular aircraft carriers, two battleships, three cruisers, and 11 destroyers

were allocated, was to be a surprise attack, scheduled for December 7
(December 8 by Japanese time), on the main U.S. Pacific Fleet in its base at
Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands. The rest of the Japanese Navy was to
support the army in the "Southern Operation": 11 infantry divisions and
seven tank regiments, assisted by 795 combat planes, were to undertake
two drives, one from Formosa through the Philippines, the other from
French Indochina and Hainan Island through Malaya, so as to converge on
the Dutch East Indies, with a view to the capture of Java as the
culmination of a campaign of 150 days--during which, moreover, Wake
Island, Guam, the Gilbert Islands, and Burma should also have been
secured as outer bastions, besides Hong Kong.
Pearl Harbor and the Japanese Expansion to July 1942
Following Yamamoto's plan, the aircraft carrier strike force
commanded by Admiral Nagumo Chuichi sailed westward undetected by
any U.S. reconnaissance until it had reached a point 275 miles north of
Hawaii. From there, on Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941, a total of 360 aircraft,
composed of dive-bombers, torpedo bombers, and a few fighters, was
launched in two waves in the early morning at the giant U.S. naval base at
Pearl Harbor. The base at that time held 70 U.S. fighting ships, 24
auxiliaries, and some 300 planes. The Americans were taken completely by
surprise, and all eight battleships in the harbor were hit, though six were
eventually repaired and returned to service; three cruisers, three
destroyers, a minelayer, and other vessels were damaged. More than 180

aircraft were destroyed and others damaged while parked at airfields; and
more than 2,330 American were killed and over 1,140 wounded.
Japanese losses were comparatively small. The Japanese attack
failed in one crucial respect, however; the Pacific Fleet's three aircraft
carriers were at sea at the time of the attack and escaped harm, and these
were to become the nucleus of the United States' incipient naval defense in
the Pacific. Pearl Harbor's shore installations and oil-storage facilities also
escaped damage. The Pearl Harbor attack was unannounced beforehand
due to a series of blunders in the Japanese Embassy in Washington. The
Japanese sneak attack unified the American public and swept away any
remaining support for American neutrality in the war. On December 8 the
U.S. Congress declared war on Japan with only one dissenting vote.
On the day of the attack, December 8 by local time on the other side
of the pacific dateline, Formosa-based Japanese bombers struck Clark and
Iba airfields in the Philippines, destroying more than 50 percent of the U.S.
Army's Far East aircraft. Two days later further Japanese raids destroyed
not only more U.S. fighters they also devastated the Cavite Naval Yard.
Part of the aging U.S. Asiatic Fleet under the command of Admiral
Thomas C. Hart had already gone south in November; and the surviving
major ships and bomber aircraft, which were vulnerable for lack of fighter
protection, were withdrawn in the next fortnight to safety in bases in Java
and Australia.

Japanese forces began to land on the island of Luzon in the
Philippines on December 10. The main assault, consisting of the bulk of one
division, was made at Lingayen Gulf, 100 miles north-northwest of Manila.
On December 22, a second large landing took place south of Manila. Two
days later. Manila itself fell unopposed to the Japanese on Jan. 2, 1942, but
by that time the U.S. and Filipino forces under General Douglas MacArthur
were ready to hold Bataan Peninsula, just across the bay from Manila. And
Corregidor, small rocky tadpoles shaped island a short distance from
Bataan.
The Japanese attack on Bataan was halted initially, but it was
reinforced in the following eight weeks. MacArthur was ordered to
Australia on March 11, leaving Bataan's defense to Lieutenant General
Jonathan M. Wainwright under the command of Major General Edward P.
King, commander of the Luzon forces.
After General MacArthur left Corregidor the American forces fought
stubbornly to defend the rock. Conditions rapidly worsened. The American
troops were so weak from lack of food and disease that they were hardly
recognizable as human beings.
General Wainwright and all the troops in the Philippines were under
MacArthur’s orders to fight to their death and never surrender.

He had also divided the command between General Wainwright who
was to command all of Luzon that in fact meant a sliver of Bataan and
Corregidor. MacArthur planned to command operations in all of the
Philippines from Australia.
General King who had 69,000 men decided to surrender in what he
decided was a hopeless cause. General Wainwright who had been ordered
by General MacArthur to fight until death strongly objected. But General
Jones, his commander in the field told General King the situation was
hopeless. King surrendered on April 9; Corregidor fell the night of May 5-6;
and the southern Philippines capitulated three days later.
Hong Kong
Japanese bombers had already destroyed British air power at Hong
Kong on Dec. 8, 1941, and the British and Canadian defenders surrendered
to the ground attack from the Kowloon Peninsula, the nearest mainland, on
December 25th.
Thailand, Malaya & Burma
To secure their flank while pushing southward into Malaya, the
Japanese also occupied Bangkok on December 9 and Victoria Point in
southernmost Burma on December 16.
The Japanese landings in Malaya, from December 8 onward,
accompanied as they were by air strikes, overwhelmed the small
Australian and Indian forces. Japanese aircraft sank the British
battleships Prince of Wales and the Repulse, sailing from Singapore to cut

Japanese communications in the Gulf of Siam, on December 10. By the end
of January 1942, two Japanese divisions, with air and armored support,
had occupied all Malaya and Singapore Island. It had taken less than 30
days.
In Burma other Japanese troops were approaching Rangoon and
Mandalay.
On the eastern perimeter of the war zone, the Japanese had bombed
Wake Island on December 8, attempted to capture it on December 11, and
achieved a landing on December 23, quickly subduing the garrison. Guam
had already fallen on December 10.
Having also occupied Makin and Taro in the Gilbert Islands in the
first days of the war, the Japanese successfully attacked Rabaul, the
strategic base on New Britain, now part of Papua New Guinea, on Jan. 23,
1942.
Dutch East Indies
A unified American-British-Dutch-Australian Command, ABDACOM,
under General Archibald Wavell, responsible for holding Malaya, Sumatra,
Java, and the approaches to Australia, became operative on Jan. 15, 1942;
but the Japanese had already begun their advance on the oil rich Dutch
colony.

They occupied Kuching on December 17, Brunei Bay on January 6,
and Jesselton on the northern coast of Borneo on January 11, as well as
Tarakan Island off northeastern Borneo and additional points on Celebes.
Balikpapan, on Borneo's east coast and Kendari, in the southeastern
Celebes, fell to the Japanese on Jan. 24, 1942,
The Japanese conquests continued. They occupied Ammonia on
February 4, Makasar City, in the southwestern Celebes on February 8 and
Bandjarmasin, in southern Borneo on February 16. Bali was invaded on
February 18, and by February 24 the Japanese were also in possession of
Timor.
The Fall of Singapore
On February 8 and 9, three Japanese divisions crossed over the
channel between Malaya and Singapore Island; and on February 15
General Yamashita forced Lieutenant General A.E. Percival and the
90,000-strong British, Australian, and Indian garrison there to surrender.
Singapore was the major British base in the Pacific, and had been regarded
as unassailable because of its strong seaward defenses. The Japanese took
it with comparative ease by advancing down the Malay Peninsula and then
assaulting the base's landward side, which the British had left inadequately
defended.
On February 13, Japanese paratroopers landed at Palembang in
Sumatra. It fell to an amphibious assault three days later.

When the ABDACOM command was dissolved on Feb. 25, 1942, only
Java remained to complete the Japanese program of conquest. The Allies'
desperate attempt to intercept the Japanese invasion fleet was defeated in
the seven-hour Battle of the Java Sea on February 27, in which five Allied
warships were lost and only one Japanese destroyer damaged. The
Japanese landed at three points on Java on February 28 and rapidly
expanded their beachheads. On March 9 the 20,000 Allied troops in Java
surrendered.
In the Indian Ocean, the Japanese captured the Andaman Islands on
March 23, and began a series of attacks on British shipping. After the
failure of the ABDACOM command, the U.S.-British Combined Chiefs of
Staff placed the Pacific under the U.S. Joint Chiefs' strategic direction.
MacArthur became supreme commander of the Southwest Pacific Area,
which comprised the Dutch East Indies (less Sumatra), the Philippines,
Australia, the Bismarck Archipelago, and the Solomons.
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz became commander in chief of the Pacific
Ocean Areas, which comprised virtually every area not under MacArthur.
Their missions were to hold the U.S.-Australia line of communications, to
contain the Japanese within the Pacific, to support the defense of North
America, and to prepare for major amphibious counter offensives. Japan's
initial war plans were realized with the capture of Java. But despite their
military triumphs, the Japanese saw no indication that the Allies were
ready for a negotiated peace.

On the contrary, it seemed evident that an Allied counterstroke was
in the making. The U.S. Pacific Fleet bombed the Marshall Islands on Feb. 1,
1942, Wake Island on February 23, and Marcus Island, between Wake and
Japan, on March 1. These moves, together with the bombing of Rabaul on
February 23 and the establishment of bases in Australia and a line of
communications across the South Pacific, made the Japanese decide to
expand so as to cut the Allied line of communications to Australia. They
planned to occupy New Caledonia, the Fiji Islands, and Samoa and also to
seize eastern New Guinea, where they would threaten Australia from an
air base to be established at Port Moresby. They planned also to capture
Midway Island in the North Pacific and to establish air bases in the
Aleutians. In pursuance of this new program, Japanese troops occupied
Lae and Salamaua in New Guinea and Buka in the Solomon Islands in
March 1942 and Bougainville in the Solomons and the Admiralty Islands,
north of New Guinea, early in April.
Doolittle’s Raid on Tokyo
Something to raise the Allies' morale was achieved on April 18,
1942, when 16 U.S. bombers, flying off the deck of the carrier Hornet,
raided Tokyo--though they did little real damage except to the Japanese
government's prestige. The U.S. bombers that raided Tokyo on April 18 flew
on to Chinese airfields.

Particularly to those in Chekiang, the coastal province south of
Shanghai, the Japanese reacted by launching a powerful offensive to seize
those airfields. By the end of July they had generally achieved their
objectives.
U.S. Code Breaking
Far more important were the consequences of the U.S. intelligence
services' detection of Japanese plans to seize Port Moresby and Tulagi, in
the southern Solomons. Had these two places fallen, Japanese aircraft
could have dominated the Coral Sea. In the event, after U.S. aircraft on
May 3, 1942, had interfered with the Japanese landing on Tulagi, U.S.
naval units, with aircraft, challenged the Japanese ships on their
circuitous detour from Rabaul to Port Moresby. On May 5 and 6 the
opposing carrier groups sought each other out, and the four-day Battle of
the Coral Sea ensued. On May 7 planes from the Japanese carriers sank a
U.S. destroyer and an oil tanker, but U.S. planes sank the Japanese light
carrier and a cruiser; and the next day, though Japanese aircraft sank the
U.S. carrier Lexington and damaged the carrier Yorktown, the large
Japanese carrier Shokaku had to retire crippled. Finally, the Japanese lost
so many planes in the battle that their enterprise against Port Moresby
had to be abandoned. Despite the mixed results of the Battle of the Coral
Sea, the Japanese continued with their plan to seize Midway Island.
Seeking a naval showdown with the remaining ships of the U.S. Pacific
Fleet and counting on their own numerical superiority to secure a victory,

the Japanese mustered four heavy and three light aircraft carriers, two
seaplane carriers, 11 battleships, 15 cruisers, 44 destroyers, 15
submarines, and miscellaneous small vessels. The U.S. Pacific Fleet had
only three heavy carriers, eight cruisers, 18 destroyers, and 19
submarines, though there were some 115 aircraft in support of it. The
Americans, however, had the incomparable advantage of knowing the
intentions of the Japanese in advance, thanks to the U.S. intelligence
services' having broken the Japanese Navy's code and deciphered key
radio transmissions. In the ensuing Battle of Midway, the Japanese ships
destined to take Midway Island were attacked while still 500 miles from
their target by U.S. bombers on June 3. The Japanese carriers were still
able to launch their aircraft against Midway early on June 4, but in the
ensuing battle, waves of carrier, and Midway-based U.S. bombers sank all
four of the Japanese heavy carriers and one heavy cruiser.
Appalled by this disaster, the Japanese began to retreat in the night
of June 4-5. Though the U.S. carrier Yorktown was sunk by torpedo on
June 6, Midway was saved from invasion. In the Aleutians, the Japanese
bombed Dutch Harbor effectively and on June 7 occupied Attu and Kiska.
Midway Island: The Turning Point
The Battle of Midway was probably the turning point of the war in
the Pacific, for Japan lost its first-line carrier strength and most of its
navy's best-trained pilots. Henceforth, the naval strengths of the Japanese
and of the Allies were virtually equal.

Having lost the strategic initiative, Japan canceled its plans to
invade New Caledonia, Fiji, and Samoa.
The Chinese Front and Burma: 1941-42
Japan's entry into war against the western Allies had its
repercussions in China. Chiang Kai-shek's government on Dec. 9, 1941,
formally declared war not only against Japan, a formality long overdue,
but also, with political rather than military intent, against Germany and
Italy. Three Chinese armies were rushed to the Burmese frontier, since the
Burma Road was the only land route whereby the western Allies could
send supplies to the Nationalist Chinese government. On Jan. 3, 1942,
Chiang was recognized as supreme Allied commander for the China theatre
of war; and a U.S. General, Joseph W. Stilwell, was sent to be his chief of
staff. In the first eight weeks after Pearl Harbor, however, the major
achievement of the Chinese was the definitive repulse, on Jan. 15, 1942, of
a long-sustained Japanese drive against Ch'ang-sha, on the Canton Han-
k'ou railway.
Thereafter, Chiang and Stilwell were largely preoccupied by efforts
to check the Japanese advance into Burma. By mid-March 1942 two
Chinese armies, under Stilwell's command, had crossed the Burmese
frontier; but before the end of the month the Chinese force defending
Toungoo, in central Burma between Rangoon and Mandalay, was nearly
annihilated by the more soldierly Japanese. British and Indian units in
Burma fared scarcely better, being driven into retreat by the enemy's

numerical superiority both in the air and on the ground. On April 29 the
Japanese took Lashio, the Burma Road's southern terminus, thus cutting
the supply line to China and turning the Allies' northern flank. Under
continued pressure, the British and Indian forces in the following month
fell back through Kalewa to Imphal, across the Indian border, while most of
the Chinese retreated across the Salween River into China. By the end of
1942 all of Burma was in Japanese hands, China was effectively isolated,
except by air, and India was exposed to the danger of a Japanese invasion
through Burma.
Developments from Autumn 1941 to Spring 1942
In the year following the collapse of France in June 1940, British
strategists, relying as they could on supplies from the nonbelligerent
United States, were concerned first with home defense, second with the
security of the British positions in the Middle East, and third with the
development of a war of attrition against the Axis powers, pending the
buildup of adequate forces for an invasion of the European continent.
For the United States, President Roosevelt's advisers, from
November 1940, based their strategic plans on the "Europe first" principle:
that is to say, if the United States became engaged in war simultaneously
against Germany, Italy, and Japan, merely defensive operations should be
conducted in the Pacific to protect at least the Alaska-Hawaii-Panama
triangle while an offensive was being mounted in Europe.

Cast of Characters
The Allies
President Franklin Delano Roosevelt: Elected in 1932, Commander
in chief of the U.S. Army and Navy in World War II.
Colonel Angier Trout: President Roosevelt’s military aide in the
White House.
General George C. Marshall: U.S. Army, Chief of Staff of all U.S forces
under President Roosevelt.
General Douglas MacArthur: U.S. Army. Retired in Manila in the
Philippines. Recalled to active service by President Roosevelt shortly
before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
Major General Edward P. King: Over all commander Luzon forces.
General Jonathan Wainwright, US Army field commander Left
behind to defend Bataan Peninsula and Corregidor when MacArthur left
the Philippines.
Colonel Dwight D. Eisenhower U.S. Army: Military Aide to General
MacArthur in the Philippines.
Admiral Chester Nimitz: USN Commander of the U.S. Navy in the
Pacific theatre of war.
Admiral Ernest J King: USN. Commander in Chief of the U.S. Fleet
and Chief of Naval Operations.
Admiral Harold R. “Betty” Stark: USN. Chief of Naval Operations
under Admiral King.

Admiral Husband Kimmel: USN. Commander of the Pacific Fleet at
Pearl Harbor prior to the Japanese attack.
General Walter C. Short: U.S. Army. Commander of the Army Forces
in Hawaii prior to the Japanese attack.
Admiral Raymond Spruance, USN. Commander, Task
Force Sixteen.
Admiral William F. “Bill” Halsey: USN. Commander Carrier Division
2 of the Pacific Fleet.
Admiral Mark A. Mitscher: USN. 1st Captain of the aircraft carrier
Hornet. Launched the James Doolittle raid on Tokyo in April of 1942.
Admiral James C. Hart: Commander in Chief of the U.S. Asiatic Fleet.
Admiral, Sir Tom Phillips: Commander of the British battleship
Prince of Wales and Force Z.
Captain Harry Kang: Eurasian skipper of the Chinese trading Junk
Golden Dragon and business partner of the ship’s owner.
Paul Li: Harry Kang’s partner Golden Dragon’s registered owner and
a resident of Hong Kong.
Otani Kazuyoshi: 1st Mate of Golden Dragon.
Skip Moran: Chief Engineer of the Golden Dragon.
Henri Moitessier: A French colonist and businessman, resident of
Saigon and a reserve Lieutenant Colonel in the French Army of the
Republic.

Veronique Moitessier: Indo-Chinese and French Eurasian woman.
Francou Moitessier: Veronique’s brother and manager of a Rubber
Plantation in the Indo-Chinese countryside northwest of Saigon.
Francis Xsai: Junior administrator in the civilian section of the
French Colonial government in Saigon, Indo-China.
Madame Chen: Paul Li’s partner in The Hong Kong Business Hotel.
John Chang: Madame Chen’s bodyguard.
Chen Lili: Madame Chen’ niece, and youngest Concubine of Paul Li’s
brother on Hainan Island.
Li Song: Paul Li’s nephew.
Li Mee-Koh: Paul Li’s oldest nephew and brother of Li Song.
Captain Ed Cole: Skipper of the aging American Submarine S-39 of
the Asiatic Fleet.
James Casey: A Civilian mining engineer employed by the Philippine
Commonwealth to prospect for gold and consult with the American
government officials in Manila.
Robert Casey: Jim Casey’s son and a mining engineer.
Lieutenant Rose Ryan: A U.S. Army nurse at Sternberg Hospital in
the Philippines.
Rita Mondonedo Casey: James Casey’s Filipino wife and mother of
his child.
Caleb Bingham: Administrative Assistant to Commissioner Sayre,
Head the Philippines Commonwealth Government.

Captain Jack Clymer: Head of US Army intelligence in Manila.
Lt. Richard Sakamoto: Hawaiian American Nisei Undercover agent of
the U.S. Army Police. Working in Manila to uncover Japanese spies.
Clarence Yamagata: A US naval intelligence officer in Manila
Velodia Nasrudin: White Russian woman.
Major Max Benton: United State Army Air Force. B-17 Pilot
Lieutenant Colonel James Doolittle: United State Air Force.
Commander of the B-25 raid on Tokyo. 1942.
Lieutenant Jim McCaig: B29 Navigator
Lieutenant J. D. Bulkeley: Captain of PT boat 104
The Japanese
Emperor Hirohito: Titular Ruler of Japan.
Prince Akasa Yasuhito: Brother of Emperor Hirohito. Commanded
Rape and Looting of Nanking.
Prince Chichibu: Brother of Hirohito. Headed Kin no Yuri, Golden
Lily Campaign to loot all of East and South East Asia, then hide the
treasure and later return it to Japan.
General Doihara: Japan’s senior secret agent, one of five top men in
Golden Lily, masterminded the looting of Manchuria and China.
Prince Takeda Tsuneyoshi: Cousin of Hirohito, grandson of Emperor
Meiji.

He took charge of hiding war treasure in 175 underground vaults in
the Philippines.
Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku: Legendary Commander of the Japanese
Imperial Navy’s combined fleet at the beginning of the war.
Captain Watanabe Kenji: Admiral Yamamoto’s staff assistant and
friend.
Captain Genda Minoru: Japanese fighter pilot and naval strategist on
Admiral Yamamoto’s staff.
Captain Fuchida Michio: Veteran Japanese Navy pilot of the China
campaign. Recruited by Admiral Yamamoto to lead the attack at Pearl
Harbor.
Admiral Fukudome Shigeru: IJN, second in command of the
Japanese Combined Fleet under Admiral Koga Mineichi after the death of
Admiral Yamamoto.
General Yamashita Tomoyuke: Japan’s top General. “The Tiger of
Malaya” conquered Singapore in record time.
Lt. General Homma Masaharu: Planner and Commander of the
Philippines Invasion.
Colonel Kimura Yoshio: Military Attaché Japanese Consulate, Hong
Kong.
Colonel Tsuji Masanobu: A brilliant operations planner Tsuji much
sought after by Japanese Army Commanders.

Admiral Kakuta Kakuji: IJN, Commander, Second Carrier Striking
Force.
Hidaka Jisaku, Commander, IJN. Chief of staff to
Rear Admiral Kakuta. (Ship Ryujo.)
Captain Sakai Saburo: Japanese Navy Zero Fighter Plane ace pilot
with 46 U.S. planes as confirmed kills.
Colonel Onishi Seito: Japanese officer in charge of the Japanese
forces on Cebu
Kodama Yoshio: Japan’s top Yakuza gangster he was operational
head of looting treasure from China’s underworld and all the conquered
territories.
Ono Hideki: President of the Sumitomo Bank of Japan in Manila

Chapter 1
Shanghai: 1937
The rumble of Japanese heavy artillery could be heard over the
whole city. Captain Harry Kang was dressing in his cabin on the ship he
commanded. He put on a battered captain’s cap with gold braid on the
brim, light blue slacks and a navy blue Jacket over his shirt. He tried on
several kinds of shoes finally settling on a pair of patent leather oxfords. As
he left the cabin he put a small .32 caliber Swiss automatic in his coat
pocket. It was dark and except for a few slashes of light in the distance
where the Japanese planes flying from aircraft carriers crossed the coast
on their way to bomb the Chinese Army there was no light in the sky.
Harry hailed a rickshaw and gave directions to the puller in
Mandarin. He was headed to a famous Shanghai nightclub called the Mee
Kao. The owner of the club, Tu Yueh Sheng, was a very rich man. His crime
syndicate was in control of vast areas of Shanghai and his gang, the Green
Dragon triad was an efficient and ruthless menace that terrorized the
Chinese residents of the city.
Paul Li, the registered owner of his ship and Harry’s business
partner, was a Hong Kong trading company manager. Paul’s firm traded in
gold, silver and precious stones. In addition the company owned a fleet of
Chinese Trading Junks that plied the seas from Japan and Korea in the
north to as far south as Thailand, Indo-China and the Philippines. The
China coast, an area steeped in the opium drug trade for over a hundred

years, was a tough place to do business. The corruption was notorious and
bribes of opium were required to stay in business.
In order to do business in Shanghai Paul and Harry had to bribe Tu
Yueh Sheng with opium on more than a casual basis. The Green Dragon
Gang had established their power by selling opium to the drug dealers and
the residents of Shanghai. Opium’s addictive power fueled Tu’s business
and it was, for Paul and Harry, an illicit trade they both detested.
Harry had to remind himself that Tu Yueh Sheng would already
know he was coming to see him. The Green Dragon’s snitches would have
carried the word back to their boss.
The front of Mee Kao club was bright with neon signs at night and as
they pulled up and stopped Harry was instantly surrounded by hangers-on
and the local toughs all wanting a hand out. The Mee Kao’s two tough
bouncers pushed them back and welcomed Harry to the club. The club was
in full swing when Harry stepped through the door. He recognized a man
with a white towel over his arm at the bar and he went over.
“Hello Andre, how’s the second richest man in Shanghai this
evening?
“Ah, Captain Kang where have you been? We’ve missed you. You
must be very busy and getting rich”
“I wish. If I had half your charm and business sense I’d be retired
and living in Paris. How is that fancy bordello you own?

With all the Asian men wanting to screw white women from Moscow
you must be rolling in money and a millionaire by now.”
“Unfortunately Harry I have two vices which keep me poor. I love
beautiful women and they are expensive, as you know. And, I am addicted
to gambling on the horses and high stakes games of chance. If I could give
up one or the other I might be rich. As it is I must work away in this
beautiful city and enjoy a small income and a comfortable life thousands of
miles away from my home in St. Petersberg. And for all of this I owe you,
Harry, a debt I can never repay. If you hadn’t rescued me from great
danger with your beautiful ship when I got off the train from Russia I
would be dead by now.”
“That’s not true Andre. When I met you in that crappy little bar in
Port Arthur I instantly figured out that you were a survivor. And look at
you now. A success that’s the envy of all who know you.”
“Andre excused himself and signed a chit for the bartender. Sorry
Harry I’ve got to deliver some drinks for our lovely Mr. Tu. He’s
entertaining some guests.”
“Really, who is he making love to tonight?”
“The Japanese, Harry. He’s entertaining some high-ranking army
officers and diplomats. But I know he will want to talk with you Harry. Give
me your card and I’ll find out when he can meet you.”
A few minutes later Andre hurried back. “Mr. Tu Yueh Sheng say’s
he can meet you in his office in a few minutes. He wants you to wait for him

there. The Japanese are drinking in their usual manner. Most of them are
so drunk they won’t even notice Mr. Tu’s absence.”
When Harry went to Tu’s office two tough looking men in tuxedos
guarded the door. They recognized Harry and ushered him into the room.
The office was painted in a bright green with a large silk Chinese rug on the
floor. The wall back of Tu’s expansive rosewood desk was covered by red
silk tapestry with a large green Dragon in the center. Harry had once
asked why green. Tu Yueh Sheng just laughed and said, “Because it’s the
color of money.”
“There’s my good friend Captain Harry Kang,” Tu Yueh Sheng said
as he came through the door. “Please excuse me for being late. My
Japanese guests are enjoying themselves as they usually do.”
Harry grinned, “You mean drunk and disorderly.”
“Yes, well there is this war going on. You must have noticed. As long
as there is war businessmen like us can profit by it, don’t you think? Just
imagine if you will how much information you can gather from drunken
Japanese high-ranking officers and diplomats. But tell me who do you
think will win?”
“’I’m just a simple ship Captain but from what I’ve seen I’d say the
Japanese are going to have one victory after another all up and down the
China coast. But, China is a big country with lots of people. In the end I
think it will be a tossup. If Chiang Kai-shek doesn’t do something stupid I
think he can bleed the Japanese to death.”

“My thinking exactly. That’s why I am loyal to Generalissimo Chiang
and China although I must appear to be neutral to the Japanese. I do so
because it is good for business but I intend to do my own bleeding of China’s
enemy. I am sorry Captain Kang; I must get back to my guests before they
notice I am missing. Please come with me. There is someone I want you to
meet. His name is Colonel Kimura. He may be the only sober one in the
room. I showed him your card and he wants to meet you.”
“Before we do that Paul Li asked of there is any thing you need.”
“Yes well, some poppy would be nice. I can sell some to the
Japanese.”
“Will the usual amount be okay?”
“How soon will you be coming back to Shanghai?
“I am not sure. But if you need more, one of Paul’s other ships can
bring it to you before I can get here.”
“Splendid. Shall we go and meet Colonel Kimura?”
The large entertainment room was crowded with Japanese and Tu’s
ladies of the night. Many were White Russians recruited especially by Tu
Yueh Sheng to supply female company and services to his guests. The rest
were young Chinese girls selected for their looks and well trained. The
noise was deafening. It was as Harry had said ironically a crowd of the
drunk and disorderly.
Tu Yueh Sheng led him a table with several high-ranking officers.
Three of them were Generals and there was nobody at the table below the

rank of Colonel. Harry was introduced to a middle aged man who may have
been the only sober Japanese in the crowd. “Captain Kang, this is Colonel
Kimura. It’s pretty noisy in here. Please go to my office where you can
talk.”
Kimura bowed and Harry returned it. When they reached Tu’s office
Kimura said, “Thank you for agreeing to talk with me. I hope I haven’t
taken your self away from a previous engagement.”
“Not at all Sir. I came to meet Mr. Tu Yueh Sheng on business and we
concluded it before coming to meet you.”
“What is you next port of call, Captain Kang?”
“Wind and the weather permitting, I will be leaving later tonight for
Hong Kong.”
“Ah, that’s good. I am going to Hong Kong tomorrow on a Mitsui Line
ship. This is not a very good time to talk. Perhaps we can meet in Hong
Kong in a few days. There is a favor I want to ask you?”
“What is that Sir?”
“I am taking up my next posting at the Japanese Consulate in Hong
Kong as military attach. Mr. Tu Yueh Sheng told me that you are a very
astute observer and I would like you to gather some information for me.
Naturally there will be a financial arrangement.”
“I’m sorry I will have to ask my Ship owner’s permission.”
“I’ve already done that Captain Kang and Mr. Li said it is okay. Do
you have any reservations?”

“No of course not, I will be happy to do whatever I can. Later this
week then. I’ll walk you back to your table. I want to say goodnight to Mr.
Tu.”
“As Harry approached the door to leave the party a fight broke out at
a table nearby. A Japanese Officer was standing over the body of one of the
hostesses and he pulled his gun and began horsewhipping her. He was
screaming at the top of his lungs. “You dirty cheap Russian whore. I will
kill you. You can’t insult Japan and not pay for it.”
Harry quickly moved up behind the man and grabbed his pistol and
wrenched it away. Two of the club’s bouncers grabbed the raving officer
and pulled him down. As Harry handed the gun to one of the other officers.
The man on the ground screamed at Harry. “I’ll kill you! If I ever see you
again. You are a dead man you dirty Chink!”

Chapter 2
Saigon Indochina: Early Spring 1941
Captain Harry Kang, Chief Engineer Skip Moran, and First Mate,
Otani Kazuyoshi, the big Chinese Junk’s officers, stood on the Bridge
looking down as the crew swung cargo nets to the trucks on shore that
brought raw natural rubber wrapped in oiled paper for shipment to Japan.
The cargo was headed first to Hong Kong where a fast Japanese Navy
Cruiser would take it to Admiral Yamamoto’s Combined fleet.
“It’s amazing that sticky black stuff wrapped in paper is worth so
much,” Skip said.
“Its worth a lot more than its weight in gold to an airplane pilot
flying off the deck of an aircraft carrier,” Harry said, “If your life depended
on it you’d be happy to pay just about anything to get it. Admiral
Yamamoto is like an old horse trader, he knows for sure what it’s worth.”
When the cargo was all on board, and evenly distributed in the cargo
bays of the big sea going junk, Otani-san gave the order to batten down the
hatches while Harry checked the manifest. Skip was already down in the
engine room starting the two big powerful Allison diesel engines.

Captain Kang watched as his crew cast off the shorelines, and the
ship headed down the Mekong River towards the South China Sea. As they
cleared the Mekong Delta, a web of tributary streams and thick tropical
jungle were left behind as they headed into the open ocean.
Harry was back inside the Bridge looking at a chart of the South
China Sea, “Otani-san san, chart a course from here to the 100 fathom line
off the Coast of Hainan Island. Let’s go at flank speed until we get there, put
up sails and motor sail at reasonable speed to Hong Kong. I want to get
there tout suite but not so fast that we attract a Japanese warship’s
attention”
“Yes Sir.”
“Oh, and tell Skip to come on deck and mount the fifty caliber
machine guns and open up the rifle ports so we can defend ourselves if we
have to.”
Two hours later they reached Hainan and turned north. All of the
officers were on the Bridge talking over the day’s events. Suddenly a great
black object came up from the sea. It was so close that their own two
hundred foot long ship loaded with tons of cargo lifted up on the swirling
upsurge that was so high it came crashing down on their deck.
“Holy shit! What the hell is that,” Skip shouted.
“Unless I miss my guess,” Harry said, “That’s one of the biggest
submarines ever built. The Japanese Navy has three of them.”
“But Harry, why so big,” Otani-san asked.

“It’s multipurpose. See that big bulge forward of the conning tower,
that’s a water tight chamber that can carry everything from midget
submarines, seaplanes with folding wings for scouting work, to full
brigades of assault troops to be put ashore on a beach somewhere. In this
case I’d bet it could carry all the cargo we’ve got.
“Look! There’s flickering light. They’re signaling us.”
“Stop immediately,” Otani-san translated, “Transfer your cargo
quickly to our deck, please.”
“Just like that,” Skip said angrily, “They’re no better than common
pirates. Who do they think they are?”
Harry laughed, “It’s their cargo, Skip. They ordered it, they paid for
it, and they want to take delivery right now.”
“But I thought we were going to take it to Hong Kong, and they’d take
delivery there.”
“My guess is that Admiral Yamamoto doesn’t want somebody to
know what’s going on with his big new aircraft carriers. He’s got some big
secret he’s hiding.”
“As soon as they’re gone we’d better let the boss know what
happened.”
“Oh he knows,” Harry said, “But just to be sure I’ll send him a coded
message.”

Sangley Point, The Philippines
The U.S. Navy’s two-man signals intelligence unit is on duty in the
radio shack monitoring radio traffic all over the South China Sea. Sergeant
“Big” Bill Cassidy is listening with earphones. “There’s the best Morse code
fist in the world. “K” is on the air. I’ve got him on a line just above Hainan.
Bet he’s headed for Hong Kong.”
Karl “The Cynic” Zeitz looked up. “You and your “K”, he’s probably
just another uptight navy academy grad with tight asshole.
“Well, whatever,” Cassidy grinned, “What time is the pick up for the
China Clipper? Got to get these in the pouch for Washington before it
leaves.” He ran outside and jumped in a dilapidated old Chevy staff car and
careened along a narrow jungle track to the main road to Manila. An hour
later after fighting his way around slow moving ox carts and people on foot
walking towards the city he approached the port and could see the big
silver tail of the big Boeing China Clipper. He skidded to a stop at the
landing as passengers walked down the gangplank to the passenger door.
All of them were well dressed. Upper crust types he thought. Who else
could afford to fly on such an expensive trip?
The China Clipper’s navigator was waiting to take the pouch. He
signed Cassidy’s log and turned to the side of the plane and inserted a key
in a small door with two locks. Bill put his key in the second lock and
opened the door.

They placed the pouch in a small compartment and locked it. Cassidy
pocketed his key and shook hands, “Good to see you Art, when will you be
back?”
“I’ve got a months leave coming so it’ll be a while. See you when I get
back.” As he made his way back to the car, Cassidy checked his watch. Time
for breakfast he thought and as he got under way he turned the car in the
direction of the big Navy base at Cavite where the chow hall would be
dishing up a good, big all-American breakfast.
Admiral James Hart, Commander of the U.S. Asiatic Fleet sat in his
office in the Marston building where he could see the signals intelligence
pouch being placed aboard the China Clipper. He was furious at the
bureaucratic blunder that had all the Navy’s signal intelligence routed to
the Navy Department in Washington D.C. instead of distributing it to the
intelligence units in the fleet headquarters around the Pacific. Places like
his own command, and at Pearl Harbor where some of the most brilliant
cryptographic minds in the world worked for Commander Rocheforte’s
unit. He had complained to Admiral “Betsy” King in Washington but he
never got an answer. Finally with the press of business in his own
command he had just given up.

Chapter 3
Captain Harry Kang
Captain Harry Kang didn’t believe in good or bad “Joss,” Good or bad
luck. He didn’t believe in it because in his experience it wasn’t luck that
had him born of a Chinese revolutionary leader and an American
missionaries daughter. It was a deliberate choice. His father was a sexual
male animal. He made love to Harry’s mother, and she made love to
Harry’s father from a biological imperative. It was procreate and
guarantee the continuation of the species. Harry’s birth was no accident.
God didn’t figure into the equation either. In Harry’s view, atypical for the
times, God was a bad joke perpetuated by men and women to afraid to take
responsibility for what the decided to do themselves.
Harry was tough because his father made him that way. He had the
ability to love because his mother taught him to love by the way she loved
his father. He learned from her example. I was the Chinese Yin and Yang,
the great circle of life. Like the tides caused by the cosmic forces of the
Universe. It was the roll of a perfect pair of dice, like the roll of the sea
under his ship’s keel. It would be predictable if you knew everything. Bt of
course you couldn’t know everything because there were an unlimited
number of variables in the cosmos. Harry’s world was so large he
understood that he could never know enough. Knowing with certainty that
he could never know made him the bravest man in his personal universe.
He never panicked or rattled under fire. He was always calm and in

command. He made his officers and his crew the best in their world by
example. He didn’t demand they be courageous. He calmly led them
showing no fear. They followed his lead and they were unafraid.
Harry, exhausted from being on duty for so many hours, went to his
cabin and poured himself a glass of brandy. He closed his eye and in his
mind’s eye he looked on the vision of a navigators rumb line arcing across a
chart so big it encompassed all the world’s oceans. The events in his life lay
far back along this line. What about the future? Well, started now in this
cabin. Where would it take him? Memories flooded in. He saw his Chinese
father and his American mother talking after dinner over the kitchen table
in their modest home in Boston. The scene shifted to the mean streets of
winter in the city where he grew up with tough Irish and Italian kids who
teased him and beat him up on the schoolyard, and in the streets as they
chased him home. Their taunts were cruel and nasty. Heathen “Chinee,”
“slanty eyes,” “Yah! Yah! Yah, we’ll get you.”
Baffled by the rejection he’d run home to be comforted by his mother.
Then, his father said, “Real men don’t cry. You don’t cry. Your name is
Kang. Kang men never cry.”
From then on he fought back. He was often bloody but never beaten.
On is back on the ground, with the scars of battle oozing blood, his soul
turned to burnished steel. It was the same with his studies. He was Kang.
He was the best. When he graduated from Boston Latin School he was at
the top of his class. His father, outwardly a missionary, and secretly a

revolutionary from China and a follower of Sun Yat sen, knew powerful
people in the Church. A Senator from Massachusetts mysteriously laid on
an appointment to the Naval Academy at Annapolis.
Harry’s hazing days were not over. Life at the Naval Academy wasn’t
so different from the way his life as a kid had been at home. It was no effort
to stand at attention in a “brace” when a senior cadet hurled demeaning
personal slurs and orders at him. Unlike the other new midshipmen he
could look “braced” without feeling stiff and afraid. The burnished steel at
his core to care of things that small. The fact that he was over six feet tall
infuriated the senior midshipmen most of whom were much shorter than
Harry. He would be respected. If he was liked so much the better but it
didn’t really matter.
Harry opened his eyes and looked around at a familiar and
comforting scene. It was his home on the sea. He yawned and took a deep
draught of the Chinese brandy. Then he settled back in his chair and closed
his eyes. His mind’s eye focused on his last days at Annapolis.
Two weeks before graduation and his commissioning, as a navy
ensign Harry was first in his class. He was suddenly called to the
Commandants office. He was questioned about items of jewelry found in his
locker. They had been reported missing by the only competitor Harry had
for 1st in his graduating class. Harry had never stolen anything in his life.
It was beneath a Kang to steal. He tried to explain this to the investigating
officers. The evidence of his thievery was the Jewelry they said. He was a

denounced as a liar. He was quickly convicted by a midshipman’s court and
remanded to the brig expelled and disgraced. Within hours he was pacing
his cell in the brig.
The night Harry was scheduled to leave the Academy with a
dishonorable discharge he had a visitor to his cell. The senior naval
officer’s sudden appearance was almost as mysterious as Harry’s
appointment to the Naval Academy had been. He introduced himself as
Admiral James C. Hart. Harry towered over the Admiral who was barely
five feet tall. Hart invited Harry to sit down. They talked long into the early
morning hours. Harry was amazed at how much Hart knew about him and
his family. He even knew about his father’s most closely held secret his
membership in China’s revolutionary party. Hart spoke about China and
called Sun Yat Sen a great patriot. They talked of many things. There was
much Harry didn’t understand. Things like history and politics that he
knew little about. Just before dawn the Commandant of the Academy came
into Harry’s cell. He was expressionless as he told Harry to raise his right
hand. “Repeat after me.”
“I swear to uphold the Constitution of the United States of America.”
Harry had memorized the lines to ready him self for graduation. He
repeated them mindlessly because he was so shocked and amazed. He was
then commissioned a Navy officer but with the rank of Captain in the
Merchant Marine. Harry was being recruited into a secret branch of the
U.S. Navy.

After the Commandant had sworn Harry in he looked at him and
said, “Captain Kang you are the best man the Naval Academy has every
trained in its entire history. Congratulations. It was an honor to have
known you,” Then he left.
“Sit down Harry. I imagine this all has come as quite a shock to you.
Let’s just sit for a while and collect our thoughts.” Harry’s mind was
racing. What on earth was going on?
After a few minutes, Admiral Hart said, “Harry, you are going to be
trained in secret naval intelligence work. Then, you will come to work for
me in Asia as my eyes and ears in the Far East.” Then it dawned on a
shocked and surprise Harry Kang. He was being resurrected. Harry was
now a spy!
It was dawn in Annapolis. The sun came up in a swirl of radiant light
over the bay as Harry and Admiral Hart were driven in a large Packard
sedan to a heavily fenced red brick building on the waterfront in Baltimore.
“This is a very secure Navy site, Harry. You are going to be challenged like
you have never been challenged intellectually in your life. You are in for
some very tough training. You will not leave here until you know
everything you need to know. It may take weeks, or it may take months.
Whatever it takes don’t become discouraged. You wouldn’t have been
picked for this assignment unless I knew you could do it. Do you
understand?”

“Yes Sir.” The days were long and Harry slept, ate and studied in a
classroom that was sealed off from the street and all outside contact. At
meal time one of the Navy’s Filipino stewards delivered their meals. His
instructor told Harry that he lived in bachelor officers’ quarters in another
part of the building. Every night when he went back to his quarters he
called Admiral Hart on the phone and gave him a report on Harry’s
progress. After a week of work he told Hart, “Jim, Harry Kang is the
smartest person I have ever met. His mind is like a steel trap. He hears it
once, or sees, or reads it once and it’s in there. There’s a lifetime of
materials to learn but I think we can finish in about six weeks.”
“Good. I am counting on him. The situation in Asia could blow up any
time. War is in the air and I can smell it coming sooner than later. Thanks
Courtney for all you are doing. I know it must be tough.”
“My pleasure Sir. It’s a privilege for an old man that seldom comes
along for an old retired coot like me.”
“Come on Courtney, you are the best man I have ever had the
pleasure to command. Remember, I am almost as old as you and they still
claim they need me. By all rights I should be long into retirement by now.
Have a good night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
After five and a half weeks the retired Rear Admiral Courtney
sprang a surprise test on Harry. It was long and very difficult. Harry
finished it after eleven hours. His answers were perfect. He had ingested
tons of information about coastline, tides, their time and fall, and water

depth for almost the entire coastline of China, Korea, and Japan. Harry
was almost ready to assume command.
That night Admiral Courtney took Harry to the naval officers club
for a celebratory dinner. Harry found out that the Admiral had been chief
of intelligence for Admiral Hart for almost Hart’s entire career as the
Navy’s first modern submarine commander. “It was quite a ride, Captain
Kang. Jim Hart is a very tough boss, he doesn’t tolerate many mistakes but
he’s very fair-minded. Do a good job and he will reward you in ways you’d
never expect.”
Harry was given orders to report to a merchant ship in New York
headed for Hong Kong. The paymaster gave him more money than he had
ever seen in his life, and a special body pouch to conceal it in.
A quartermaster took him to a store in Baltimore that catered to
Merchant Marine officers from all over the world where he was carefully
measured and supplied with a set of uniforms for his trip to Hong Kong.
“You can get the rest of the things you’ll need made to order out there a lot
cheaper than they sell for here. I know. I used to be stationed there a few
years ago.”
The train to New York was much like the one he came to the
Academy on. He settled into his seat and soon dozed off. When the train
arrived in New York Harry took a taxi to the dock where a rusting old
freighter was tied up. After paying the taxi driver he shouldered his duffel
bag and walked towards the ship. A man in a dark blue coat and grey

fedora and dark glasses approached him, gave him a slip of paper, then
walked away. The slip contained a name and address in Hong Kong with an
injunction, “Memorize and Destroy.” Harry put the paper in his pocket and
went up the gangplank where he presented his papers to the 1st Mate and
signed the ships crew list.
“Well Son, It’s about time you showed up. We’ve been waiting for you
and this stinking ship is not my idea of a place to hang out. The Captain
hasn’t showed his head but to spit over the rail and walk around the deck
every day. He’s got piles of paperback books about filled up his cabin. He
just reads and sleeps. It wouldn’t be so bad if the weather wasn’t so
damned cold.”
“Sorry about being late,” Harry said, “I’ve been tied up and this is the
earliest I could get here.”
“Well, stow your stuff in Cabin 3. It’s down that way and get back as
fast as you can. Report to the bridge and we’ll get this rust bucket out of
here.”
Harry’s cabin was freshly painted. All white, it was almost
overpowering with paint fumes. The one small port to the outside was open
and Harry wondered if there was a fan on board he could use to vent the
fumes. He opened the door and looked down the passageway. The paint was
old and flaking off with big streaks of rust. It had seen better days a long
time before. A large man in grease covered coveralls entered and limped
along towards Harry.

“Hi! My name is Moran. Skip Moran. Call me Skip everyone else
does. You must be Captain Kang. Glad you made it. We heard you were
coming. Ex-Navy isn’t it? Just like me. Well they mustered me out because
of an accident,” he said pointing to his leg, “It don’t hurt so much now but
at first I could barely stand the pain.”
“That’s too bad. Where do you work?
“I’m the engineer. Since I got here I’ve been down below checking the
steam engine over and making sure this rust bucket is safe to take to sea.
She’s in amazingly good shape from a mechanical point of view. Topsides
she’s a disaster as you must have noticed. Well I’d better get out of these
clothes and clean up. The Captain wants us all to meet on the Bridge in 15
minutes.”
Captain Roberts was leaning on the ships wheel. “Let’s can the
bullshit and get down to tacks, the reason we’re here. But, first let me
introduce Captain Harry Kang fresh from the Merchant Marine Academy.
He’s going to navigate us to Hong Kong and stand watch with the rest of
you. As of right now I’m retired. If you need me give me a jingle. Otherwise
you are on your own,” Captain Roberts looked at Harry, “Captain Kang, get
us out of this freezing shit hole to the warm Gulf Stream pronto. This
weather is to much for my old bones.” And with this he got up walked out.
“Captain Kang, the charts are in this filing cabinet. They came from
the Chandlery two days ago. I’ve had a look and you could get this ship just
about anywhere using them. I put a list of the numbers you’ll need in the

top drawer. Our orders are to go around the Cape of Good Hope, up the
Indian Ocean and through the Malacca straits. Then up the South China
Sea to Hong Kong.”
Then the First Mate turned to Skip.
“Mr. Moran get up steam and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Harry pulled three charts from the cabinet and spread them on the
worn polished Chart Table. He checked the directions with a protractor
and wrote down a set of steering directions. Twenty minutes later they
castoff and headed out to the New York Harbor and then out along Long
Island Sound on course for the warm waters of the Gulf Stream.
The Officers and the crew shared the same wardroom where they ate
their meals and relaxed between watches. Harry and Skip Moran often ate
together and Skip’s enthusiasm for all things mechanical and his natural
good nature were attractive to Harry because the rest of the officers were
taciturn and absorbed with their own private pursuits when they were not
on watch. Much to Harry’s surprise the engine room was spotless.
“You know Harry, there’s a lot about this ship which just isn’t what
you’d expect looking at her from the outside. This engine is the latest
steam engine technology. A triple expansion engine powers it. It’s not coal
fired. It burns diesel oil to generate the steam. Then the steam is run
through three big expansion chambers that drive the main crank and the
drive shaft out to the prop. It wrings every ounce of energy from the steam
that it’s possible to get.”

“That’s the same system that powers all of our fighting ships right on
up to the biggest Battleships isn’t it.”
“Yep, except for the Submarines. They’re big diesel Allison engines
made by General Motors.” Skip lowered his voice to a whisper, “Three days
ago, a bunch of navy gray trucks showed up on the dock. They were
carrying long thin wood crates all painted the same gray. They fired up the
donkey engines and hoisted them aboard ship and then lowered them down
into the holds with a lot of care. Then they chained them down and secured
the hatches.”
“What do you think is inside?”
“Torpedoes, and ammo. I worked on the Navy’s subs in San Diego.
That’s how I got hurt. A chain hoist broke and dropped an engine on my
leg. The Docs wanted to cut my leg off it was so smashed up but I wouldn’t
let ‘em. I finally had to go hunt up a Mexican lady “Curandero” to stop the
infection and save my leg. Never bothered to set the bone so I go limping
around.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not now so much. When it does I just pop a bunch of Aspirin and
grin and bear it. What else can I do?”
“You know, I’ve been thinking. I’ll bet the Navy owns this ship.”
“So do I. It can’t be what it looks like. But why bother.”
“It can supply submarines at sea and nobody will be any the wiser for
it. The sub surfaces at night takes on torpedoes, and ammo, and then

submerges. Shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes if the sea is calm do you
think?”
“That’s got to be it. Nothing else makes any sense.”
The voyage was slow but calm and uneventful. Harry and Skip ate
their meals together and talked pretty much alone in the Wardroom or in
Harry’s cabin. Skip did most of the talking.
“I was born in Santa Cruz, California. My family was in the lumber
business. They cut down most of the Redwood forests along the coast and
shipped the lumber on mule drawn wagons to rebuild San Francisco after
the Great Fire. Most of the trees were second growth by the time I came
along”
“What’s that?”
“The Redwood tree is the only tree in the world that grows again
after it has been cut down or burned down. After the next rainy season
green shoots come up out of the stumps, and forty or fifty years later
you’ve got a second growth tree ready to be cut down and made into
lumber. My older brother and me inherited the business. He’s a natural
born salesman, and businessman. I could care less about business. I’m into
engines. I fell in love with them because we had all kind of wood fired steam
engines in the lumber business. We used them to cut logs to size in our
sawmill and power our donkey engines to load trucks and pull logs around.
In the old days we kept teams of horses to haul stuff but they eat a lot of
hay and then there’s the horseshit to clean up. It was time consuming and

required a lot of hands to make it work. It was just not efficient under
modern conditions. Anyway, after a while I got bored and joined the Navy.
Except for the accident I loved it. I found a home doing what I love to do.
Now, I don’t know. I signed on this ship to see another part of the world. So
here am. How about you.”
“Same story,” Harry said, “I joined the Navy to see the world. My dad
wanted me to be an officer so I went to the Academy but I flunked out. Then
I went to the Merchant Marine Academy because there wasn’t so much
stupid stuff going on. Anyway, here I am in the same boat you are.”
“That some kind of a joke Harry?”
“Sort of. It’s called a Pun.”
“Well it’s way puny.”
They both had shared a good laugh and by the time they reached
Hong Kong they had formed a simple friendship that both had longed for
without knowing it all their lives. When they signed off the ship they took a
cheap room in a seaman’s hotel on the waterfront on Hong Kong Island and
set out to explore the famous colony. From the window of their room on the
sixth floor they could look out over Hong Kong harbor at the hundreds of
ships anchored out in the bay. Hundreds of small steam powered water
taxies crossed the bay taking passengers and sailors to the ships. A fleet of
green Star ferryboats went back and forth over the water to the Kowloon
side on the leased territories on the mainland of China. At breakfast the
menu listed standard western Ham and Eggs along with Chinese food.

Harry’s mouth watered remembering the food his mother cooked for his
father at home. “We should try the Chinese food, he said. There’s some good
stuff here for breakfast.”
Skip who was thinking about having Ham and Eggs,” laughed and
said, “I just knew you’d say that. I’ve never had Chinese breakfast. What do
you recommend?”
“Well, how about some Congee? It’s Chinese cereal made from rice.
It’s not sweet but it looks sort of like cream of wheat. Then for some fruit
we can have mangoes or papaya they’re sweet and good.”
“Okay. But can we at least have coffee?”
Harry tried to order in Chinese, but the waiter waived his arms and
said, “No. Sorry I don’t speak Mandarin. Just a minute and I’ll get the
Manager. Before Harry had a chance to say anything in English the
Manager introduced himself in Mandarin dialect and apologized for the
waiter. “Most people in the South speak Cantonese and don’t understand
Mandarin especially the younger people.”
“Well I was just about to say I could order in English but he went to
get you so quickly I didn’t get to say anything.”
The manager smiled and said, “May I take your order.”
On the way out after breakfast Skip said, “What was that all about in
there?”
“China is such a big country there are hundreds of local dialects,
different languages really. So, while Mandarin is the official language of the

China, millions of people can’t understand it.”
“Then how do the run the country if they can’t speak to each other?”
“By writing Chinese. Harry said pointing to a sign written in Chinese
Characters.” then he held up the palm of his hand and quickly wrote a
Chinese character with his finger.” if you don’t have paper you can just
write the character in your hand with your finger and any educated person
will be able to communicate with you by doing the same thing.”
“I’ll be damned. How many of those characters are there?”
“The big dictionaries have between forty to sixty thousand
characters in them. But, most ordinary words are limited to maybe two or
three thousand characters. Most kids who get through high school can
read most of them. Of course few peasants in the countryside may not ever
go to school so they can’t read. If they get a letter from someone they go to
a village official or an educated person to have them read it to them and
then write a letter back.”
“That’s pretty heavy stuff, can you read Chinese?”
“Yes, my father taught me to read but I can’t write many words
except for the simpler ones. If I’m not too busy I’ll take up practicing
again.”
Harry picked up a tourist map of Hong Kong on the way out of the
hotel and they decided to walk to the cog railway that went up the side of
Victoria Peak the highest mountain on the island. On the way up they saw
the elegant Victorian mansions of the very wealthy that were perched on

the steep side of the Peak. They also had a bird’s eye peak at the whole of
the harbor looking back and could see way into China proper because the
day was so bright and clear.
At the top they got out and looked down on Aberdeen Harbor where
the water was barely discernable. The bay was covered with hundreds of
Chinese Junks tied up together. Harry asked an older man dressed in a
formal Chinese gown about the harbor.
“The man answered in Mandarin, “Those are fishing boats. They tie
up there every night when they come back from fishing. Those Junk people
are not Chinese. They are a separate race called Hakka. They are very
primitive. Nothing but pagan religion. They believe in ghosts, dragons, and
spirits. They even think if you take their picture with a camera that you
steal their soul out through their eyes. But they know how to fish. They
never live on land, only on their boats. Oh, but,” he said laughing, “They are
happy to sell us their fish.”
After going back down the peak they took a taxi and drove by the
summerhouses of the rich that lined the beach on the ocean side of the
island. Buy the time they got back to the hotel they were ready for room
service and dinner in their room before falling into bed.
The next morning Skip was still asleep. Harry left him a note and
said that he’d meet him back at the hotel after lunch. Harry changed some
dollars into Hong Kong money and walked to the Star Ferry where he went
aboard and crossed over to the Kowloon side. He walked over to the new

hotel that had just opened and asked directions to the address he’d been
given. “The best way to get there is to take a rickshaw right here. I’ll give
the runner directions and you’ll be there in five minutes it’s a few blocks
back of the Hotel.”
Harry stood on the street in front of a three story red brick building.
A bronze sign on a tall wrought Iron Gate read:
Golden Dragon Company, Ltd.
Paul Li, Esquire. Barrister
Chartered Accountant
Managing Director
By Appointment only
Salesmen need not apply
This information was repeated in Chinese on a bronze sign on the
other side of the gate. Harry was about to ring the bell when a Sikh in a
turban and a red uniform stepped out of a small guard shack carrying a
shotgun and asked Harry,
“Can I help the Gentleman?”
Harry handed him a business card supplied by the Navy.
The man said, “Yes Sir. This way.”
The ground floor was more like the front of a bank. Heavy iron grill
covered the windows and as Harry clanked upstairs in an open cage
elevator he could see a large bank vault door through the window. At the
elevator a young woman greeted him. “Good morning, Captain Kang, Mr. Li

is expecting you. Please step this way. She led Harry through an office
along a red-carpeted floor. “This way please,” and she led him by an office
and up a wide stairs to the third floor where an immaculately dressed
Chinese middle-aged man greeted Harry. “Captain Kang, welcome to
Golden Dragon Trading. My name is Paul Li please come in and make
yourself comfortable in my humble home.
Humble indeed, Harry thought as he sat down in a soft black leather
chair and glanced around. The walls were paneled in rich red Chinese
Rosewood and hung with Chinese scrolls painted on silk. A silk Chinese
carpet in gold covered the entire floor of a very big room. It was the most
beautiful room he had ever been in.
“This is a very lovely room.”
“I am glad you like it. It’s very comfortable and I like Chinese art. But
how about you, was your trip to Hong Kong good? I know you got in a day
or so ago.”
“The trip was good. It was pretty dull actually. The sea was normal
all the way from New York to the Indian Ocean. That sea was like Chinese
Lacquer. It was so amazing it looked like glass. Nobody on board had ever
seen anything like it. From then on it was quite simple really. The straights
of Malacca were crowded and we had to keep a sharp lookout for other
ships. Our cargo was heavy and so we didn’t steam very fast but we made
steady progress and got here with without incident.”
“Good. Are you ready to start work?”

“Yes. I am looking forward to it.”
“The ship you are to command is almost finished. It’s under
construction on Lantau Island. You can get there by ferry. I suggest you go
tomorrow and have a look. Then, tell me what you think along with any
suggestions for changes you think we might make. The owners of the ship
building company are fluent in Mandarin but you might need Cantonese so
I will send my assistant to your hotel in the morning to show you the way
there and translate if you need you to talk to the workmen in the
shipyard.”
“That sounds good, I have a friend who came over on ship with me.
He’s an experienced ship’s engineer and is trained in weapons and combat
by the US Navy. Is there any chance we could give him a job?”
“Let me think about that. Take him with you tomorrow. I’ll be over
tomorrow afternoon. I can meet him then and we can discuss it. How does
that sound?”
“Good. I think Skip Moran would be a great asset. I look forward to
seeing you tomorrow and I am looking forward to our future.”
Harry was impressed by his visit to Golden Dragon Trading.
Obviously Paul Li was a prosperous businessman and very smart. He is
well educated and obviously cultured Harry thought.
He found Skip in the hotel bar when he got back to the hotel. Skip
was seated a table with two other sailors and three young Chinese girls in
revealing dresses and high heels.

“I see you are right in your element Skip. Do you have time for a
serious talk?”
“Sure Captain. Just give me a minute and I’ll meet you in the room.”
After their talk Harry took Skip out for a fancy western dinner at a
restaurant recommended by the hotel manager who called and made the
reservation under the name Captain Harry Kang. The place was very
upscale and located in the British Chamber of Commerce Club. The food
was first class and they waded through prime roast of beef with all the
trimmings. They ordered wine recommended by the wine steward and then
had another bottle. They each took a rickshaw back to the hotel and
smoked a cigar in the lobby before heading up to bed.
“We’re living pretty high on the hog Harry. I could get used to this in
a hurry,” It was the last thing Skip said as was going to sleep.
After a short ferry boat ride to Lantau Island Harry, Skip and their
interpreter, a Japanese man named Otani-san Kazuyoshi, walked along a
beach road past dozens of shipbuilding yards working on junks of every
size and description. Then, they came to the biggest of the yards, where a
big 200 foot long Junk blocked up on a long marine railway that led down
into the water. The big ship dominated the scene. The yard was completely
fenced and the entrance was through the side of a big wooden building and
down a covered walkway. Halfway down there was a large and imposing
door that had a sign in Chinese on a carved sign above it that read, The Tai
Yuen Company Ltd. in Chinese and English.

Harry rang the bell. The door opened and a young Chinese girl said,
“Oh, you must be Captain Kang. The Masters are expecting you.” They
were ushered into a large room with two large antique rosewood desks. The
floor was covered with a pair of exquisite Chinese rugs. A large silk
tapestry hung on one wall opposite the windows that looked out to water
and beyond. The tapestry depicted a scene from the Ming Dynasty in
China’s ancient past when the Emperor’s Admiral the famous eunuch,
Admiral Hong commanded the imperial fleet of a thousand Junks some of
which were 500 feet long on voyages as far as the coasts of India and
Africa, and across the vast distances of the Pacific Ocean to California.
Candles and incense burned in a shrine to the God of Junk builders and a
pleasant woody scent filled the room.
A door opened at the rear of the room. Two gray haired elders
entered the room dressed in blue working men’s smocks. “Captain Harry
Kang, Paul Li told us you were coming today. I am Li Jigao and this is my
brother Li Shan. Welcome to our humble shop. Harry passed them his
calling card and then introduced Skip and Otani Kazuyoshi, the translator.
“We already feel at home here where good strong ships are built. We are
looking forward to our time with you.
Harry and skip spent the rest of the morning inspecting the large
junk from stem to stern and from top to bottom. “God, Harry just look at
the size of those timber frames they’re huge.”

“Yes, it’s Yakal, a wood that is like teak, strong and rot resistant
Otani-san said. These builders have been using it for centuries. It’s
imported from the Philippines.”
“How do you know about Yakal?” Harry asked him.
“My great grandfather was a shipwright in Japan a long time ago
and they used to get Yakal from China. My father said he learned about it
from his father. Of course that was a long time before our family moved to
Hawaii.”
Then you’re an American,” Skip said.”
“Yes, but my older brother Hiroshi was born in Japan. He’s a
diplomat. He works for the Japanese Foreign Office in Shanghai.”
“How did you come to work for Paul Li?”
“That’s a very long story, I’ll tell you tonight at dinner?”
“I didn’t see any plans being used by the workmen. Why is that?
“These boats have been built for five thousand years. The Junk
builders belong to a shipbuilder’s guild with an imperial appointment to the
throne. These families have building these boats so long the plans are all in
their heads. Amazing isn’t it?”
The thing I like is that gold dragon carved into the bowsprit. Is that
to ward off danger?”
Harry said, “It might be. But Paul Li’s company deals in gold. Maybe
“Golden Dragon” is the name of the ship.”

That afternoon, Paul Li arrived and they sat down in the office of the
shipyard. “Well, how did you fellows get along?” he asked.
“Good,” Harry said, “The superstructure is just like a big ship should
be. Every thing is in the right place and strongly built. But there’s an
empty place where the engines should be.”
“That’s because these ships usually have long stroke diesels from
England. Gardner makes them for London buses. They’re strong and
simple and long lasting. They have tremendous torque for hauling a bus full
of passengers at fairly slow speed but this ship needs a faster turn of speed.
The engines just arrived by ship from California. They are built by the
General Motors Allison engine plant in Detroit.”
Skip was dumbfounded. He looked at Harry and said, “That’s same
engine they put in submarines. It’s what the navy trained me to repair.”
Paul Li looked at Harry. “I guess that answers your question about a
job for Skip.”
Harry had a light bulb go off in his brain. Admiral Hart, the
Academy, his own downfall, this big Junk, Skip Moran, Paul Li, it was all
part of a devious and amazingly clever plan. He was speechless.
Later that night, at dinner, Otani-san told them of his own
recruitment in Hawaii. “My parents insisted that I go to Japanese school
after regular school to learn the language. It was not something I wanted to
do but I figured as long as I was doing it I might as well work hard. We
always spoke Japanese at home but I didn’t know a thing about writing and

reading. I found that part fascinating and my vocabulary got a lot better
the longer I studied. Kanji, the Japanese characters that come from
written Chinese so I can read Chinese. Slowly but I can read it. The main
difference is that Japanese is an inflected language. The verbs take on
different sounds depending on the way they are used in a sentence. A long
time ago the Japanese invented a script called Hiragana. It’s added to
create verbs in combination with Kanji. Then when western languages
came to Japan they added a second script to be used with foreign words by
way they sound to a Japanese. That script is called Katakana.”
“Interesting. But all this doesn’t tell us why you are here,” Skip said.
“When I graduated from High School I was at the top of my class. My
principal had high hopes of me going on to college but my parents were
poor farmers. The only job I could get was working in a packing shed
processing pineapples. Then one day before I took the job, the Principal
introduced me to this man who looked like a civilian. He offered me a job if
I could take some training and pass a test. The training was something I
already knew. My hobby as a kid was ham radio. I built a crystal radio
transmitter and a short wave radio receiver. I taught my self Morse code.
Well, the minute they found this out they made me take the test. The first
thing I had to do was to listen to Japanese radio broadcasts in Morse code
and translate what I heard into English. It was pretty easy. Then, I had to
send Morse code in English. It was a little harder because the copy they
gave me was filled with letters and numbers like a code would be. I had to

transmit at 65 words per minute and I just made it with 67 words. They
asked me to come back a week later. What I didn’t know was that the FBI
was checking my background. They asked questions of almost everyone I
ever knew. Like was I loyal to the United States. Stuff like that.” They went
back, boy was I surprised. The man in the suit was dressed in a naval
officer uniform. His real name was Commander Nelson. He said that he was
offering me a commission in the Navy. That I’d be sent to San Francisco
Bay to a place called Benicia. The school was the California Maritime
Academy. They teach cadets how to run big ships, steering, and operational
stuff like how to load cargo and navigate. I spent six months doing a crash
course. There were twenty-five of us students. When I got back to Honolulu
they swore me into the Navy. Then they sent me to Hong Kong with Paul
Li’s address. And, that’s how I got here.”
All Harry could think of to say was, “Well I’ll be damned!”
From that time on, Harry, Skip, and Otani-san lived and worked on
the sea. Harry, as Captain shared, in the profits with Paul Li the owner the
owner of the Golden Dragon. Every year he shared the money he got with
Skip and Otani-san. As a result along with their pay, the bonus made their
bank accounts grow rapidly. Slowly over time Harry began to understand
that Paul Li had much more than business on his mind although he and
Paul never talked about Harry’s past and the true nature of their calling.
So they went on about their mutual business with a shared bigger purpose.
They both gathered and sold secret information. Eventually he told Skip

and Otani-san that the purpose of their being in Asia was to work for U.S.
Naval Intelligence under Admiral Hart. It was something that they had
already guessed.

Chapter 4
Saigon Indo-China: Summer 1941
Captain Harry Kang turned over to look at his sleeping companion.
Veronique Moitessier was asleep, a fine mist of perspiration softening her
exquisite features. Good cross, Harry thought, French and Chinese blood
made for a beautiful woman. A light breeze stirred in the room and the
light slanted across the room through the half-drawn blinds as the sun
went down. Harry could see her breasts, and the nipples glowing in the
fading light. She turned restlessly and put one long slender limb over his
thigh and moved closer. He reached down and put his hand on her hip. A
smile quickly crossed her face and she moaned lightly. Harry thought
about waking her to make love but then thought better of it. He slid out
from under the mosquito netting and went to the window. All the smells of
Indochina flooded into his nostrils--camphor wood burning in sticks used
by the faithful for good joss, coupled with the rich fruity smell of tamarind
and mango. In the yard of the house he could see Veronique’s maid washing
clothes in the stream of a hose that led down from the cistern on the roof.
In that moment Harry Kang decided at that this was one of his favorite
places on earth, second only to the bridge of his ship Golden Dragon as it
sluiced down a wave on a following sea.
Later, a few miles away, a police patrol boat slowly moved up the
Saigon River. The riverbank was crowded with Chinese junks, sampans,
and native fishing boats that were tied to ancient pilings. A bright cone of

light from the patrol boat’s search lamp illuminated the darkest corners
along the bank. Three young policemen stood on deck in the dark with
machine pistols at the ready. As their vessel rounded a bend in the river
they approached a large ocean going cargo Junk. Suddenly, a figure
emerged on the deck, ran to the stern, took a dive, and started swimming
towards the sampan tethered off the stern. There was a sudden flailing in
the water, the movement stopped, and a body slowly floated to the surface
fixed in the light from the search lamp. The patrol boat sped up and pulled
alongside the sampan where one of the uniformed men pulled the body
aboard with a boat hook. The stern of the Junk began rapidly filling with
crew. An officer stepped out of the patrol boat wheelhouse and issued curt
orders to the patrolmen on deck. The police boarded the Junk from its
stern climbing up and over the bulwarks on a rope net the crew dropped
from the ship’s stern. The investigation that followed was still going on as
dawn broke over the Mekong delta.
Harry Kang stood at the bedroom window looking down at the street.
As he watched, an ancient Hotchkiss sedan turned into the lane at the
bottom of the hill, then proceeded up the road, and stopped in front of the
gate to the property. Two policemen, and a man, got out of the car on the
side away from the house. When the man came around the front of the car,
Harry recognized Otani-san, his first mate. He instantly thought, ‘trouble,’
and then slipped into his shirt and a pair of shorts.

Harry’s French was pretty rusty but he did understand that he was
being taken to the police station. In the car Otani-san explained. “This
morning around 5 O’clock, a man came over the stern from a sampan and
went straight to your cabin. The guy used a bamboo pick on the lock and
gained entry to the cabin. He went to your bunk and put a stiletto blade
through the mosquito curtain into the mattress. Li Song was sleeping on
the floor in a corner of your cabin. Lucky both of you he was not in your
bunk, and you were away.”
“Is Li Song okay,” Harry asked.
“Just a slash on his arm. He woke up when the guy opened the cabin
door, then he tackled the guy when the man left your bunk. Broke the
man’s windpipe with one blow. Somehow, the man ran out and jumped over
the stern. He drowned in the water almost instantly.”
“How did the police get involved?”
“They were coming up river in a patrol boat when the man jumped in
the water right in front them,” Otani-san said, “Otherwise, the body would
have drifted up the river because the tide was coming in.”
“Who was he,” Harry said, “Any identification on him?”
“Don’t have a clue,” Otani-san said, “The police have a local in the
station they’re questioning, but that’s all I know.”
The car pulled up in front of a building marked Securite Generale.
They were ushered into an interview room to wait. A tall gray haired man
entered, “Captain Kang, I am Inspector Vigot. Do you speak French?”

Harry shook his head.
“No, then we can speak in English. I am sorry to have to bother you
at such an early hour. As your associate here has probably told you we
have a problem.”
“Yes, Otani-san has given me the outline,” Harry said, “What is going
on.”
“At the moment we are questioning a local we picked up from a
gambling den located directly across from your ship. He was seen drinking
with the dead man yesterday. The place has rooms for rent on the second
floor and the dead man seems to have checked in two days ago.”
“Any identification,” Harry asked.
“Only a passport, it’s probably forged. Our technician is checking
with the British consulate. It indicates it was issued in Hong Kong but it
could be from anywhere.”
“So, what’s your guess about what this is all about.”
“I prefer not to speculate,” Vigot said, “I will say that the man was a
probably a professional assassin. But the real question is why anyone
would want you killed, Captain?”
“I don’t know, Harry said, “Could robbery be the motivation?”
“Not likely, “the stiletto he used is for silent killing. Had you or
anyone been in that bed, death would have been instantaneous, and with
no sound. Most robbers are amateurs. Even a kitchen knife will do.”

Vigot paused and then said, “Are you a gambler, Captain Kang, do
you owe anyone money?”
“No, we play for small stakes on the ship, but that’s all.”
“How about jealous husbands,” Vigot said, “Have you spent any time
in the wrong bed lately.”
Harry laughed, “No, Inspector, I am very discrete. In that way I am
more French than American.”
“You flatter us Captain. You cannot imagine how many indiscrete
dead Frenchmen I see in a year. How about the young man who was
sleeping in the cabin?”
“He is the ship owner’s nephew,” Harry said, “We picked him up
along with his brother, from Hainan last week. They’re going their Uncle’s
place in Hong Kong.”
“Would anyone want to kill him,” Vigot asked, “Your cabin entrance
can be seen from rooms upstairs in the place across from your ship. The
killer may have seen him go into your cabin after you left the ship.”
“Isn’t that a bit far fetched,” Harry said, I can’t imagine it.”
“But Monsieur, you forget that this man may be a professional. If so,
he was paid to be careful, and accurate.”
“Have you talked to Li Song,” Harry asked.
“Yes, the sergeant who came on the scene in the patrol boat talked
with him on the ship. He was understandably shaken up. Please talk with
him yourself and if he knows anything let me know. I would like to get to

the bottom of this as soon as possible. When are you scheduled to leave
Saigon?”
“We’re waiting for a cargo of Latex from up country,” Harry said, “It
could come any time.”
“Please do not sail without my permission,” Vigot said, “I do not
think it will be necessary to detain your ship unless something significant
turns up, but I will want to talk to you again before you leave.”
When the left the Police Station, Harry led Otani-san around the
corner to a café. Once inside, Harry ordered a brioche and café latte. “God,
Otani-san I am starved, Harry said, sipping on his coffee, “What the hell
can be going on.”
“I don’t know but what ever it is, it’s worrying,” Otani-san said,
“What did you think of that inspector?”
“Seemed like a smart operator,” Harry said, “Somehow I think there
was something on his mind he didn’t tell us about. We’d better double the
watch on the ship. How did the killer get on board?”
“We always have a man on guard amidships when we’re along the
bank like we are now. It’s always seemed pretty safe here with all the
sampans traveling up and down the water. I guess it’s not.”
“It sure as hell wasn’t last night, Li Song must have been scared out
of his wits.”
“No, surprisingly cool I’d say. That boy has guts.”

“He’s damned lucky. When I told him to use my cabin I thought sure
he’d sleep in my bunk.”
“He told the police sergeant he always sleeps on a mat on the floor. I
guess he didn’t even consider sleeping in your bunk.”
“Lucky for him and for us. I’m damned glad he didn’t get murdered.
If he had been I don’t know what I’d tell his uncle. Let’s get back to the ship
and talk to the boys.”
When they arrived at the ship, Harry could see that security had
been doubled. Otani-san had placed guards on the bow and stern and there
were two people at the gangplank. Golden Dragon’s crew was well trained,
handpicked by Captain Kang and his officers, and good at what needed to
be done. As he reached the deck he spoke to the two men on watch,
“Anything happening?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain. Skip is in the galley talking to
our passengers. The police left about a half an hour ago.”
“Good, I can’t imagine anything happening in broad daylight but
keep a sharp eye out.”
Harry found Skip Moran, Chief Engineer of Golden Dragon, in
conversation with the two young Chinese passengers. He took Li Song’s
arm, “What’s going on, I leave the ship for the night and you go and almost
get yourself killed.” Li Song’s face turned red. “Sorry Captain, I guess I was
lucky.”

“Let me see that cut,” Harry said taking Li Song’s right arm, “Does it
hurt.”
“No, it’s okay. Just a little sore, the cut’s not very deep.”
“The guys have been telling me about their situation,” Skip Moran
said, “They think the attacker might have been sent by someone they
know.”
“Tell me about it,” Harry said.
Li Mee-Koh, the taller of the two, spoke first, “You should know that
we are not blood brothers. My father gave me to Li Song’s family just before
he died. I was nine years old when it happened. The family adopted me. We
grew up as brothers, studied together and then went to Hong Kong to
school. We were there when father first got sick. We went home to Hainan
be with him. Then he got worse and died suddenly.”
“That’s when the trouble started,” Li Song said, “Father’s youngest
concubine, Chen Lili, grew up with us. After Father’s death Eldest Brother
sent her away. We think that was wrong. She is a very good person. We
know her well because she studied with us when we were at home. Father
would never agree to just throwing her away.”
“We had a terrible fight with Eldest Brother. He told us to leave the
family.” Mee-Koh said, “He is especially angry with Li Song. He said we
were against his right to be head of the family.”
“That isn’t true,” Li Song said, “It’s only about Lili.”

“But that’s not a reason to send someone to murder you is it?”
“I don’t know. Elder Brother is a very angry and violent person,”
Mee-Koh said, “Who knows what he might do.”
“I guess anything’s possible,” Harry said, “Until we figure out what’s
going on I want you two to stay on board the ship. Keep your head down so
someone doesn’t take a shot at you from the river bank, or some passing
boat.”
Harry looked at his watch; “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. We’re going up
country today.”
“When will you be back,” Otani-san asked.
“Two, maybe three days,” Harry said, “I promised the boss I’d
inspect the cargo before paying to have it shipped to Saigon.”
Veronique and Harry dozed in the backseat of the Citroen sedan
carrying them to a vast rubber plantation owned by IRC, the Indochina
Rubber Company. The road ran west, and then north, alongside the French
built reclamation canals that had made rice culture, and transportation,
possible over hundreds of acres of the Plain of Reeds. It was one
contribution to the land that the colonial government, short on reputation,
deserved credit for. If nothing else it relieved pressure on the land to the
north, so overpopulated that when the canals were finished and led water
to the parched fields, the peasant movement to newly available land was
like the spring flood. Now, the rice paddies were a verdant green so intense
it hurt the eyes.

Harry leaned down to kiss Veronique on the temple. “It’s pretty hot.
Do you want to stop for a drink at the next village.”
Veronique stirred and opened her eyes, “What? Oh yes, let’s stop
above Rach Gia at our vacation house on the coast we can go for a swim
there.” She leaned forward and spoke to the driver in Vietnamese. “He says
he’ll stop at the next fruit stand for some limes to suck on.”
“Good idea.”
“Have you been sleeping? I must have dozed off.”
“A few minutes maybe. Since I woke up I’ve been counting hat’s,”
Harry said, “I counted only cone shaped ones and got up to nearly a
thousand. There are a lot of people in this country.”
“Yes, the Buddhist blame the Catholics, and the Catholics blame the
Buddhists,” Veronique said, “Actually, I think the government encourages
them both. It’s all about having an endless supply of cheap labor.”
“How long has your brother worked for the Rubber Company,” Harry
said.
“About two years. He graduated from agricultural school and then
went to work for IRC. First he worked as an overseer, and then he was
promoted to manager of the plantation.”
“He’s pretty young for the job isn’t he?”
“Yes, but since the war in Europe started the company can’t get
people to come out here.

It’s the same all over the country. People come to the end of their
contracts, and then they leave. That’s why I’m working part-time. My
father can’t find anyone for the office.”
“I’m glad. Otherwise we wouldn’t have met,” Harry said, “Can you get
away long enough to come to Hong Kong with me.”
“Oh Harry, I’d love to, but it’s probably not possible right now. Let me
talk to my father when we get back.”
The road narrowed and went over a small bridge across a canal. On
the other side a village with shade trees was nestled between the canal and
the surrounding fields. The driver parked along side a market area and
Veronique and Harry got out to take a stretch while the driver bargained
for some fruit. An old lady sat on a mat not far away with a clay charcoal
brazier in front of her. She was arguing with a man who kept pointing to
the contents of the pot. “She just called him the son of a whore and a
bastard father,” Veronique laughed, “Now he’s returning the complement.
He said her mother was a mental defective and a whore.”
“What are they arguing about?”
“It’s about the price of the food she’s cooking,” Veronique said, “It’s
always the way it is in this country.”
“It’s the same all over Asia,” Harry said, “The cost of everything
involves big moral issues.”

Veronique looked down, paused, and her mouth broke in a dazzling
smile. Looking Harry straight in the face with startling green eyes she said
mischievously, “What else is there to be moral about Harry.”
Gradually the rice paddies began to disappear, as the land became
drier. Then suddenly they were gone entirely, replaced with low sandy
hills. Up the road Harry could see a wall of palm trees. “We’re almost at the
coast,” Veronique said, “It’ll be good to get in the water for a swim.”
The village consisted of an abandoned district office and native huts
on stilts built in and around the surrounding palm trees. At a fork in the
road the driver turned left and drove along a winding track to emerge in a
clearing next to a Western style two-story house almost on the beach. “This
is our vacation house,” Veronique said, “There’s nobody here now, but
there’s a key hanging under the front stairs. We’ll find bathing suits for our
swim.”
“Do we need suits,” Harry asked.
“You don’t, but if I go in without a suit on, the whole village will be
scandalized,” Veronique said, “Besides, you’ve already seen more of me
than you are supposed to.”
The sea was almost dead calm. As they lay on their backs in the
water, Veronique reached out and took his hand.
“Imagine us floating here in the Gulf of Siam on calm water, while all
of Europe is at war. How long do you think it will be before war comes here,
Harry?”

“I’d hate to say, sweetheart,” Harry said, “The situation in China is
pretty tense right now. The Japanese are itching to get their hands on the
whole country. The only thing stopping them is the presence of the
England, France and the United States in Hong Kong, Shanghai, and the
other treaty ports. Now that Holland and France have fallen into German
hands Japan will have even less reason to hold back.”
“What about your country? Won’t they do something?”
“The United States? I just don’t know. Asia seems like a million miles
away to most Americans. After the First World War most Americans said,
“never again.” The isolationists are strong in the United States. Many
people think the country should stay out of foreign entanglements.
President Roosevelt wants to help Great Britain but for political reasons
can’t do it. The country wouldn’t stand for it”
“Never mind, let’s not worry about that anymore today. Let’s swim
up the beach. I’ll race you.”
Harry considered himself a good swimmer. Veronique was a superb
swimmer. She lengthened her stroke when Harry pulled abreast and after
fifteen minutes was nearly a quarter of a mile ahead. He yelled loudly and
then dove under the surface. She turned and swam back to look for him. He
could see her approaching, and he porpoised out of the water when she was
a couple of feet away.

“I give up,” he shouted and grabbed her in a bear hug.
“Oh, Harry you such a big oxen,” she laughed, “You are such a devil.”
He turned her around and put his arms around hers while they
treaded water, his hands cupping her breasts. “I love you, Veronique,” he
said in her ear.
“Don’t say that, Harry, You know you will break my heart.”
While they were swimming, Veronique’s driver spread mats in the
shade of the palms on the edge of the beach, and brought a lunch basket
from the boot of the car. They ate in silence listening to the lapping of the
waves on the shore. When they finished eating Veronique layback and
pulled Harry down, and gave him a long lingering kiss.
“Harry, I didn’t mean to hurt you when you said you loved me. It’s
just that my own feelings are so strong, I can feel my heart breaking just
thinking of you leaving.” They fell asleep holding each other. The driver
woke them an hour later, and after a shower they got back in the car.
By mid-afternoon the heat was unbearable. They stopped at a
seaside resort for drinks and Veronique phoned the plantation office. Her
brother was not in, but she talked to his assistant, and left a message that
they would be arriving late. Their table on the resort veranda was in the
deep shade and they talked while sipping fresh lime sodas.
“How did your father meet your mother,” Harry asked.
“Papa was born here. His parents sent him to France to school but he
didn’t like it there. At the end of his first year he failed his examinations.

His parents were furious but they realized that the decision to send him
there was probably wrong. His Uncle in France agreed to take him on at his
vineyard for a year. Papa stayed there two years and then came back to
Saigon. My mother’s mama worked for the family. My father and my
mother played together when they were kids. When my father came back,
mother was grown up and quite beautiful. It was then that he realized that
he loved her. They carried on secretly until my mother became pregnant
with me. When they told my grandfather they wanted to get married, he
threw them out of the house.
“What happened then?”
“It was a big mess,” Veronique said, “For a long time they had no
contact. Then, my father’s mother came to see us. Blood proved stronger
than anger. My grandfather relented, and I was his favorite until he died
two years ago.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“In my house, the one I live in now, Veronique said, “My father built
it for my mother. At first it was just one room on top of a storeroom. Then
little by little they made it bigger and better. I went to school in the convent
school in the neighborhood. The mother superior taught a few of us French,
and the ones who were interested a little English. My mother couldn’t read
so I taught her after school. It was fun. My mother was a good student. She
wanted my father to be proud of her. I remember the first day she read to
him. He was so surprised, and proud. It was lovely to watch them together.

He blamed me. It was his joke. He would always say that he couldn’t keep
his wife under control because I was the secret interference. He would put
on a long face and wag his head and then hug us both.”
“That’s a nice story, Veronique,” Harry said, “I don’t know about my
father. He was very stern and distant. I think he loved my mother but he
was very Chinese. When I complained about him when I was a little kid my
mother would tell me to try and understand that my father loved us very
much but that he was the head of the house and could not be like normal
fathers. I know my mother respected him and loved him.”
“What did he do,” Veronique asked.
“He trained for the ministry. He was picked up by the missionary
movement in China and sent to Harvard Divinity School. I think it was his
way out of poverty. His own family was all but destroyed by the wars in
China. He was an early follower of Sun Yat Sen and the revolutionary
movement. He collected money for the movement among Chinese in the
United States. It was all very secret and people came to our house at all
hours of the night and day.”
“How did he meet your mother?”
“In a church social. My mother’s parents were missionaries. She
grew up in China, and spoke Mandarin. They were attracted to each other
instantly. Then I came along. I don’t think they ever intended to get
married but it was the natural evolution of things.”

“Was it strange having them for parents? I mean how did you get
along in school.”
“Okay. They sent me to Boston Latin School. It was a kind of upper
class school for kids headed for college. Someone in my father’s church
paid for it. When I graduated, the state senator from Massachusetts
nominated me to go to the US Naval Academy. My father said China needed
professional navy people and he always hoped I would go back to China
when he did.”
The driver was looking at his watch and motioning to them. “We’d
better go,” Veronique said, “It’s getting late and we must get there before
dark.”
As the car wound its way north the road narrowed as it traversed a
series of low hills and then climbed up to a plateau that was lightly forested
with scrub trees. At one point they stopped while a herd of cattle moved
across the road. They were gray with large floppy ears and hump over their
withers.
“These cows are an experiment,” Veronique said, “The government
research station imported them from India.”
“How are they doing?”
“Well enough I suppose. They probably have a better chance of
surviving here than the ones they brought from France.”
“I remember that rubber trees are native to South America,” Harry
said, “How did they get here.”

Veronique curled up and put her head on Harry’s shoulder.
“That’s a story you should wait and hear from my brother. He’s the
rubber expert. I’d better take a little nap, otherwise I won’t be able to stay
awake tonight after dinner.”
Harry kissed the top of her head.
“You smell good. What is that scent.”
She pulled his head down and kissed him on the ear. “It’s just my
sexy woman smell. I take after my mother. Why don’t you try to sleep?”
Harry woke with a start at the sound of an engine directly overhead.
The driver slowed the car and a biplane flew over. It was so low Harry could
see the wheels very clearly. It went even lower and finally came to rest on
the road. Veronique sat up and looked out.
“That’s my brother. He’s come to meet us.”
They got out of the car and walked ahead to the airplane.
“This is Francou, my brother,” Veronique said hugging a tall slender
man with sandy hair, wearing leather helmet with goggles pushed up on
his forehead.
“This is Captain Harry Kang.”
“Welcome! My sister is very impressed with you, so I should be also.”
“Harry laughed. “Never trust the opinion of a woman about a man.
We all know we can’t be trusted.”
“Why don’t you fly with me Harry? I will show you the plantation
from the air.”

“Yes, Yes, Harry.” Said Veronique, “You must go with Francou. I will
be along shortly.”
“You go in the front, Harry. Please use the seatbelt.”
The plane bumped along the road, going faster and faster. Then, in an
instant, it lifted in the air and rose steeply over the trees and then leveled
out. Harry looked down at the countryside. The vegetation was different
now and a dense green forest of trees spread out far in the distance. The
plane banked and Harry looked back. Francou was smiling and pointing
down to right. He yelled something Harry couldn’t make out. The right
wing dipped and Harry could see the plantation buildings directly below.
What appeared to be a house flashed by and before he knew it the plane
descended through a slit in the trees and they touched down on a runway
surrounded by trees.
As they got out of the plane, Harry said, “Believe it or not that’s the
first time I been up in a plane.”
“Really. That means we will have to go flying again tomorrow. You
will learn to love it.”
“That was amazing. How far did we come?”
“Only about twenty kilometers. Veronique will probably be at the
house by the time we walk back. Perhaps you can help me tie the aircraft
down.”

Harry helped tie the wings to stakes in the ground and then walked
around the plane inspecting it.
“It’s looks very well made. What make is it?”
“It’s a Bleriot. It’s quite old. I got it from the army. They were going to
break these up. I bought two at one time so I could have some spares. Then
I reworked the whole thing. It took me two years, but it was worth it.”
“Does Veronique fly?”
“No, she won’t go up. She says that she already has a bird’s
mentality. She’s afraid if she went up she would jump out and try to fly by
herself. Actually, I think she doesn’t trust me. She remembers all the tricks
I played on her when we were growing up.”
Francou and Harry walked to the edge of the clearing and into the
forest on a trail that led between evenly spaced tree trunks. The canopy
overhead was so dense that it was dark on the trail. “So these are what
rubber trees look like,” Harry said, “I didn’t imagine they would be so big.”
“Actually these are in the middle as far as size,” Francou said, “They
were planted by the manager I replaced. He got called up by the Army and
went back to France.”
“How many trees do you have?”
“Producing trees? Oh maybe two thousand give or take a few
hundred damaged or diseased trees. We keep planting all the time. It is all
about increasing the production. The company directors are men who
demand a profit.

The demand for rubber is increasing all the time. If we don’t meet it,
our competitors will try to steal the business away.”
“Who is your competition?”
“In Asia, the British in Malaya. But, I think their workers are not as
good as ours. Malays do not like to work hard. Our workers are mostly of
Chinese descent. They are more disciplined. And, fortunately I can
understand enough of their language to be able to lead them.”
The trail came to a branch and a line of men could be seen walking
along in single file at right angles to Harry and Francou. “Our crews are
coming in to pick up today’s supply of collecting pots.” We harvest in the
evening to keep the latex flowing. It’s too hot during the day.”
The plantation house was a large bungalow with a covered
courtyard, and surrounding garden with walkways between small garden
plots. A small grove of papaya trees with hanging fruit caught Harry’s eye
on their way to the front entrance. “We’ll go in the front like proper
gentlemen,” Francou said, “We don’t usually go this way but I want to
impress you.”
Two classical marble statues flanked the entrance and as they
passed through the front door Harry could see the living room filled with
antique French furniture over Francou’s shoulder. A gold leaf decorated
harpsichord occupied a corner opposite a crimson upholstered settee. It
was an astonishing collection of stuff to be found here in a remote corner of
Asia.

“This is a wonderful room,” Harry said, “Where did you get all this
furniture?”
“The original owner of the plantation brought it from France in the
late 1920’s,” Francou said, “We seldom use this room because it seems like
a museum.”
Harry wandered around the room taking it all in. Then he said,
“Okay, let’s see where you really live.”
“My friend and I live pretty much in these rooms,” Francou said
leading him through a door, “This is the library. We spend a lot of time in
here. There’s not much to do in the evening except read so we come here
after dinner.”
A man called out from another room, “Francou, Is that you?
“Yes, I came in the front way with Veronique’s friend, Captain Kang.
Come, I’ll introduce you.
Harry, who was examining a book he’d picked up, looked up as a
Chinese dressed in a black gown entered the room. “Francis this is Captain
Kang. Harry, this is my friend Francis Xsai.”
“I’ve heard that you’re an American,” Xsai said, “What brings you to
this place.”
“He’s come to look at the plantation. Haven’t you Harry.”
“Well yes, but that’s not the whole story.

Veronique offered to accompany me here, and even if I wanted to
refuse I could scarcely do that under the circumstances. Besides, my
company director insisted that I come here.”
“Pushed, pulled, badgered and trapped,” Veronique said coming
through the door. “Poor man, he didn’t have a chance.”
Harry grinned. “Is she always like this?”
“Pretty much,” Francou said, “Sometimes she’s worse.”
“Come on Harry, I’ll show you where the shower is. We’ll see you
later at dinner. I’ve already talked to the cook. Dinner’s at eight.”
As they walked down the hallway, Veronique said, “Francis is my
brother’s lover. They’ve been friends since high school. Francis works in
the Administration in Saigon. He’s on a years sabbatical.”
“Really. What does he do up here. It seems pretty quiet.”
“He’s studying classical Chinese, and writing a book. Here’s your
room. It’s right next to mine and there’s a connecting door. There’s a
shower just outside the door to the garden.”
Harry opened the door and said, “Aren’t you coming in?”
“I’ll meet you in the shower. I’ve got to get some soap from the
pantry.”
Harry stood head down, relaxed under the stream of cool water.
Veronique slipped in beside him and soaped her body. Then she turned and
brushed against him, her hands clasped around his neck. The stood close
for a while. Then he pulled her hips up and entered her with a gentle

thrust. The moved gently at first, then climaxed in a series of simultaneous
storms. Later, they made love again as they lay on the bed.
Dinner was simple café style frits and small steaks with Chinese long
green beans lightly steamed. After dinner, strong French roast coffee was
served with a Creme Brule in the library. It was time for serious
conversation and Harry was asked about the world political situation.
“Who’s winning the war,” Francou asked.
“In Europe?” Harry said, “I’d have to say I don’t know. Conventional
wisdom says the Germans are winning. As you know they have advanced
rapidly. But the United States hasn’t weighed in yet. In Asia, I’d say the
outcome hangs in the balance. The Japanese military could finish off
Chiang Kai-shek’s nationalists except for the fact that the country is so
big.”
“What is wrong with your America,” Francis said, “Why can’t it see
that its interests are with Europe trying to put Hitler out of business.”
“Sleeping giant,” Paul said, “Slow to wake up, but when it does it will
be hell on wheels.”
“It seems to me that the people in the so-called democracies are
completely naive,” Veronique said, “The issues are much deeper than just
Fascism versus Democracy.”
“What do you mean,” Harry asked, “Japan, Germany, Italy are all
right wing fascist countries.?

Francis was on his feet now. “What she means, Harry, is that the
real, long time oppressors of people everywhere may well call themselves
democracies but in reality they deny basic rights to millions of people and
don’t even care that they do.”
“Do you include the United States in that,” Harry asked, “How can
you begin to equate us with Germany?”
“Oh yes, what about the poor Filipinos. Do they live in a democratic
system? Or the native people, your American Indians, or the black people
in America, are they free? I don’t think so.”
Harry was silent, thinking about how to respond.
Veronique weighed in. “France, the home of liberte, egalite,
fraternite. The French have forgotten the fact of our own revolution. The
people of our country are not free and we are part of the oppressing force.
What will it take to have freedom for everyone in Indochina?”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Harry said, “China has suffered the
unequal treaties for along time. Still, you have to say that the Japanese will
be a lot worse than the countries that occupy land in the treaty ports now.”
“Can the Japanese be worse than the British,” Francis said, “How
long has Britain been in the business of oppressing the Indians, the Malays,
and people in Africa. Who else manages to grow and ship opium all over the
place enslaving millions? Harry, you have to work in a colonial institution
to understand what it’s like for us. I have a college degree. My boss is a
Frenchman who didn’t even graduate from high school.

He treats me like a house servant, and makes ten times as much
money as I do.”
“What can I say,” Harry responded, “One thing I do know is that the
Japanese are not interested in democracy. It’s the same in a lot of places
around the world. Still, the intentions of the democracies are better don’t
you think. The United States has committed to independence for the
Filipinos in ten years.”
“What’s the ten years for,” Francis said, “So the United States can get
an extra ten years of exploitation out of a poverty stricken population.
Why not free them right now?”
“Most people see the communists as even a bigger threat than the
fascists,” Harry said, “In China, the Nationalist Government spends more
time fighting them than he does the Japanese.”
“What ever Chiang Kai-shek is, he’s not stupid,” Francou said, “He
understands the real issue. It’s all about controlling the under classes.”
“That’s probably true,” Harry said, “I often go to Shanghai. The
foreign companies there are terrible. The factory conditions are hardest on
the children they employ. The problem is, the Chinese aid and abet the
situation. It’s like one terrible conspiracy. The triads control the labor
supply and squeeze everyone.”
‘It’s the same in Saigon,” Francou said, “The business people pay off
the police to keep operating all kinds of illegal business everything from
gambling to prostitution and worse. Out here, in the countryside, the rich

landowners exploit the peasants by lending money at frightening rates of
interest.”
“It’s the same everywhere I’ve been in Asia,” Harry said, “I just don’t
know how it will end.”
“Short of a revolution, nothing can be done,” Francis said, “For this
reason the communists will win in China. It is just a matter of time”
A quiet mood descended over them. Veronique got up and said, “I am
going to have some brandy. Anyone interested?
Francou and Francis demurred.
Harry said, “Yes, I’d like some. Do you want me to get it?”
“Why don’t you come with me? There are other liquors in the closet
you might like to try.”
As she poured brandy, Veronique said, “I hope you don’t mind all the
talk of politics. It is one topic that is endless with us.”
“No, I like it. I see and think about many things in my travels but it’s
hard for me to make my ideas clear. I don’t know much about politics”
“Yes, I can understand. One needs time to think. It’s not the pastime
of an active man. Maybe only a convict will have enough time to think
things completely through. Here let’s take this bottle and these glasses to
the library. Maybe they will have a drink with us.”
The emotional charge had dissipated by the time they returned to
the Library. Francou was reading, and Francis was sitting at the desk with
brush in hand, writing on a large sheet of paper. Harry went over to watch.

“This is my daily practice,” Francis said, “Do you write Chinese?”
“Only a couple of hundred characters,” Harry said, “I grew up in the
States and my father taught me when I was a child. I can speak better than
I can read or write. What is it you are writing?”
“It’s a poem by Ho Xuan Huong, one of our most famous woman
writers. She lived at the end of the 16th Century. This poem is called
“Unwelcome House Guest.” Would you like me to read it?”
“Yes, please.”
‘Spider spins; fish jump. Many days have passed
And now here you are. Our pipe, I am afraid,
Holds just a taste of tobacco spit, and
The betel has pretty much had it, but, here.
The pond’s flooded, so fish are hard to catch.
The garden’s too large to chase down a chicken.
But here you are and I am happy to see you
though the house is bare and the market, far off.’
“Great,” Harry said, “It could be about France’s presence in
Indochina.”
“You understand quickly,” Francis said.
“Harry’s father was a revolutionary,” Veronique said with a twinkle
in her eye, “He raised money for his party in the United States.”

Startled, both men looked at Harry. “Are you a party member,”
Francou asked.
Harry laughed; “No. My father’s own party is dead. He was a follower
of Sun Yat Sen, and a Christian. Had he lived, I doubt if he would be a
member of the Communist party in China. He certainly wouldn’t be in the
present day Kuomintang party. He would hate Chiang Kai-shek and all the
corruption in his government. He wanted to see China free of foreign
domination, with a democratic government.”
“That is what every patriot wants,” Francis said, “But how do you get
what you want when all avenues of political participation are denied by the
ruling colonial force. Indochina is a police state. The Securite Generale has
its spies and informers everywhere. Those who try to organize opposition
are arrested and sent to prison on Poulo Condor Island. The leaders of the
Indo-Chinese Communist party who are not in prison are all in hiding in
China and remote places in the countryside.”
“Yes, I understand how difficult it must be,” Harry said, “So what can
you do.”
“If there is a wider war in Asia, that might give us a better
opportunity. The Japanese are promising independence under a Co-
Prosperity Sphere. If they come to our country they will at least throw off
the French Colonial yoke.”
“If what I have seen them do in Korea, then Manchuria, and now
China, is any sample of what might happen here, it would be a tragedy,”

Harry said, “They will promise much before they take over but they are
capable of the most barbaric acts imaginable. They think nothing of
murdering civilian women and children, anyone who stands in their way. If
that happens you will wish you had the French back.”
“As has been said, you can’t make an omelet with out cracking eggs,”
Francis said, “There are always hard choices to be made. One thing I do
know is that if things keep on as they are we can never be free.”
“Harry, tomorrow, I can show you how the iron fist of capitalism
works around here,” Francou said with a smile, “First hand knowledge is
better than all the talk in the world.”
Veronique had little trouble dragging Harry off to bed. When they got
to his room she said, “We don’t have to solve the problems of the world
tonight. The only decision we have is whether to sleep in here or in my
room.”
“No problem,” Harry said, “Just drop your clothes right there and
come to bed.”
The next day dawned bright and hot. Veronique and Harry ate
breakfast alone in the shade of the veranda. “I saw Francou early this
morning when I went to the kitchen, Harry. He said he’d be back before
noon to pick you up. Francis was up most of the night. He’s still asleep.”
“That was an interesting evening,” Harry said, “I’m still thinking
about it. I wanted to defend the United States more than I did but somehow
it didn’t seem appropriate. Francis is pretty convinced about his ideas.

“Don’t worry about him,” Veronique said, “He’s gotten more and
more radical sounding over the last two years. I just hope he doesn’t do
something stupid, and get arrested. I’m more worried about Francou. He’s
basically an innocent. He’s really much more interested in flying his
airplane and seeing the world. I can’t imagine him staying on here much
longer. My father could certainly use some help in his business but I don’t
think Francou is at all interested.”
“Well, if he gets close up with the Japanese he’ll get a healthy dose of
reality in a hurry. I’m pretty cynical but they sure opened my eyes. They
are a pretty mean bunch, especially the army.”
Francou came up the path and stopped at the table. “Good morning.
Did you two have a good night? I’m sorry I had to leave so early. We’re
opening up a new section of land and I had to make a visit out there this
morning.”
“Sit down and have coffee,” Veronique said, “What do you have in
mind for Harry to see today.”
“Just a quick tour, and then we can go for a bit of flying if you’re
interested.”
“Sure,” Harry responded, “I’m up for anything.”
After loading hand tools into the back of an ancient truck Francou
drove them out to a freshly cleared site where a mixed crew of men and
women were transplanting young saplings into freshly prepared holes.
Several Vietnamese Cai, overseers with rawhide whips, walked along the

lines enforcing a no-talking rule with flicks of their whips on the backs of
the workers. “Why the whips,” Harry said, “Everyone seems to be
working.”
“I asked the same question when I first came here,” Francou said,
“The answer from the Cai is that this is the way it’s always been. They say
the cai dui, the whip, is a tool and symbol of their responsibility. They
never just talk to the workers they scream at them. It’s the way things are
done. If you challenge a Cai about how he disciplines his workers, all the
other Cai will stop working. Then everything stops.” I found out that you
couldn’t change the system so easily.”
“That makes it tough. There still a lot of customs like that in my
business.”
“Well, I don’t plan to be doing this much longer,” Francou said, “I’d
really like to get out and see some more of the world. Let’s go back to the
factory. We can take a different route and along the way you can see how
we collect the latex.”
As they drove down a narrow track through a dense grove of tightly
packed trees Francou explained how the rubber trees were cut with
parallel grooves in the bark and collection cups placed underneath for the
latex to bleed into.
“The cutting is the delicate part. Too deep and you damage the tree,
too slight and you cannot get a good flow. This is a good place to look. There
might be some collectors working here finishing up after a nights work.”

Francou stopped the truck and then led Harry down a short trail and into
the trees. “Here, this row is ready to be picked up. The collection crew will
be working their way along here shortly.”
“I didn’t realize rubber production was this labor intensive,” Harry
said, “How many people are working on this plantation?”
“It varies with the season. Right now we’ve got three crews working
about 700 people. We’re trying to add 1,800 trees.”
At the factory Francou hurried Harry through a look at the
processing where the viscous liquid was smoked on racks to a final cure,
and readied for packaging. Harry found himself a bit overcome by too
many facts coming in much too swiftly. Then, when they entered a large
building where the processed latex was stored he pulled himself together
long enough to hear Francou say, “This is the shipment ready to send to
your boat. You can see how it’s wrapped in oiled paper and sealed.”
“Is this shipment standard quality,” Harry asked.
“Yes, it is out of our regular production.” Francou said, “It’s part of a
bonus I receive every year that I can sell on the open market. The company
assumes that its managers will not be able to find a buyer on their own, but
I reached your company through my father’s business. You get a good price
and I make some money so someday I can retire and go flying.”
“Speaking of flying, are we going to go up this afternoon?”

“Why do you think I hurried you through the factory,” Francou said,
“Let’s go to the house. I want to spend some time with Francis, have some
lunch, and then we’ll take off.”
Harry felt hot and dusty. He headed for the bedroom and a shower.
On the way he stopped by the library and found Veronique writing a letter.
“I’m writing a friend in New York. I’m telling her about my new man
friend. I’ve decided that Ship Captain sounds far too romantic. How about
telling me what you really do.”
“Let me get a shower and I’ll think about your problem.”
After finishing his shower Harry found Veronique lying on his bed. “I
decided to stretch out for a few minutes,” she said, yawning, “I missed you
this morning.”
Slipping on a pair of shorts, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed
and dried his hair. “I haven’t felt this relaxed in years. I’m beginning to
enjoy doing so little, and forgetting all about the ship and it’s problems. You
can tell your friend that being a ship captain involves continual worry, and
a devilish amount of responsibility.”
“How did you get in that position? I’ve heard that it takes years to
become a Captain. Aren’t you pretty young to have such a responsible
position.”
Well, I’m not that young,” Harry said, “And I did have the best
training in the world.”
“How’s that,” Veronique said pulling him down for a kiss.

“U.S. Naval Academy, a couple of years in that place, and you learn
just about all you need to know about running a ship. What they don’t
teach you is the business side, but I’ve had a good teacher. The ship’s owner
is one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met.”
“Really, he sounds like my father. He’s a genius at what he does. So,
how long were you in the Navy?”
“Didn’t serve. I left the Academy just before I graduation and ran
away to sea.”
“Why, what happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Harry said standing up, “I’ll tell you sometime
when I’m not so hungry. Can we get something to eat?”
“Sure, we’re having cold noodles for lunch. The cook put them out
before she left to go to the worker’s camp. I’ll call Francou and Francis.”
After lunch, Francou and Harry walked to the airstrip and after
removing the tie-downs, and a quick check of the engine oil and fuel supply,
took off in a bumpy rush down the runway. As they lifted over the trees
Harry looked down to see Veronique standing outside the house waving to
them. Francou waggled the wings in salute and then banked away west,
heading towards the Gulf of Siam. Before long they were skimming at low
level over the surface of the sea. Then the plane lifted and flew over a
collection of deep-sea fishing junks heading out to sea. Francou set the
plane up and around on a broad arc heading for the Cambodian coast. The
sky was cloudless and Harry thought he could see far across to the South

China Sea in the east. The mountains of Cochin China rose up from the
coastal plain where smoke from fires in the rice paddies rose in wispy
flumes. Harry turned to look out to the southeast towards Saigon. The haze
obscured the view in the direction of the city so that he couldn’t make it
out. Harry turned back to look at Francou who was pointing down towards
the ground. They descended at increasing speed and then flared out over
an airstrip before setting down and taxing up to a few small buildings at
the side of the runway. As they climbed out of the plane Francou said, “I’m
ready for a drink. There’s a good bar here where the drinks are cheap and
there’s usually some entertainment.” The piled into an ancient taxi and
headed out on a dirt road bordered by scrubby brush and stunted trees.
“How serious are you about my sister,” Francou asked, “It’s really none of
my business but I’m curious.”
“We’ve only known each other for a short time, “ Harry said, “So it’s
hard to say. All I can say is that I’ve never been so attracted to a woman
before. I’d like to get to know her much better.”
“She obviously likes you,” Francou said, “She’s considering going to
Hong Kong with you.”
“Really, I’m surprised. When I asked her, she gave me the impression
that she had to ask her father about getting away. It seems he’s depending
on her help in the office.”
“Well, he won’t have to depend on her much longer. I’m going back to
Saigon. Francis will be going soon and I want to go back and be with him.

I’ll try working in the family firm for a while. Maybe I can learn how to be a
businessman.”
“How long have you and Francis been together?” Harry said, “He
seems like a very serious person.”
“We grew up together. Then we were separated for a while but when
we got back together we both knew it was serious between us. You’re right
Francis is the most intensely serious person I know. I love and admire him
more than anyone on earth. I guess it’s because he’s totally opposite from
me. Sometimes I think I haven’t a brain in my head.”
“You don’t have to feel that way,” Harry said, “My boss and mentor
pointed out to me that it takes the heart and emotions to complete a person
Someone who thinks that rational, logical, thought is the only measure of
how good someone is misses the whole point. It seems to me that you’ve got
good instincts, and your heart is obviously in the right place.”
Francou laughed, “I can see why my sister likes you. You have a way
of making people feel good about themselves.”
The taxi was moving through the outskirts of a town and Harry
sensed that water might be nearby. “This is a river port on the Mekong, “
Francou said, “There’s quite a bit of traffic along the river to this place and
folks stop here going north and south. The driver navigated around some
slow moving ox carts and turned right. After a traversing a short block
they stopped in front of a two-story building overlooking the river. The bar
looked like a cousin to every waterside-drinking hole Harry had ever been

in all up and down the China Coast. Local drunks were stacked up against
the back wall and sleepy looking young prostitutes sat slack jawed around
a couple of tables near the bar.
Francou and Harry sat at a table along the open front wall and a
teenaged girl ambled over to take their order. They ordered beer and
turned to watch the river traffic. Sampans and Junks were moving in
every direction zigzagging back and forth, some ferried passengers across
the river to the opposite bank while others were moving in a stately
procession up and down the river. “This is quite a sight,” Harry said, “Is it
always this busy.”
“Traffic goes down during the Monsoon,” Francou, “Otherwise, It’s
always pretty much as it is now.”
Two girls in bright red dresses brought beer to the table and sat
down. The girl next to Harry took his hand and placed it over her breast.
Harry pulled out some coins and gave them to the girl, patted her on the
hip and sent her away. “I’ll tell Veronique that you turned down one of the
most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Francou teased.
“Don’t even mention coming to this place,” Harry said, “No
opportunity, no doubts.”
Three six-wheel army trucks pulled up in front of the bar. An officer
entered the bar ahead of a column of dusty troopers and walked over to
their table. “Good afternoon gentlemen. May I join you?”

Harry pointed to a seat and asked, “What would you like to drink?”
The troopers were fast disappearing out the back door with the
prostitutes. “My name is Faucillon,” the officer said, “Major, Army of the
Republic.”
“Good afternoon major,” Francou said, “My name is Moitessier, and
this is my friend Captain Kang.”
The Major nodded, wiped his brow with a filthy looking handkerchief
and said, “We’ve just come from up country. Two months in the mountains
and the men get a little hungry for a woman so we stop here on the way
back to camp. Have you heard any news from home?”
“Not for a couple of weeks,” Francou said, “We live out in the country
and we’ve had bad radio reception recently.”
“Last night we got a message from Headquarters telling us to go to
Hanoi. The Japanese want to land troops there and go north to seal off the
border with China.”
“Really,” Harry said, “That can’t be a good thing.”
“I don’t like it,” the Major said, “But what can you do. Orders are
orders.” Looking at his watch he said, “Ten minutes, that’s time enough.”
He waived out the window at the trucks and the driver’s started honking
their horns. The troops started appearing at the back door. They were
stuffing their shirts into their shorts as they came through on the way to
the waiting trucks. The Major finished his beer, said goodbye, and walked
out to his truck.

Francou and Harry watched the trucks drive away as the girls filed
back in the room and took up stations around their table.
“What do you think the Japanese intend to do,” Francou asked.
“They don’t have a reputation for leaving once they take over a
place. My guess is that this is just the entering wedge. I’ll bet they plan on
occupying all the French held places in Asia.”
“I’d hate to be stuck on the plantation if they take over and freeze
everyone in place.”
“That’s exactly what might happen,” Harry said, “That’s what they
did at the Kalgan coal mines in China. The English managers have been
held in place to manage the mines after they took over.”
“Let’s get back Harry, I want to talk to Francis and my Sister.”
After taking off, Francou turned south over the Mekong and followed
the river for a way before turning southwest to fly back to the plantation.
Harry was fascinated by the view from aloft. As the jungle rolled away
beneath the plane he realized that air travel was going to be the coming
thing. He pondered the implications looking down at the passing
countryside. Francou was looking at a chart and checking his navigation.
Before long the factory buildings came into view and they landed safely at
home. Veronique came walking along the path through the trees as they
tied down the plane.
“Francou, Father called for you while you were gone,” she said, “He
wants you to call him at home.

He’s wondering if Harry found the shipment to his liking. How was
your trip?”
“Good,” Harry said, “Francou took me to a place on the Mekong, and
we stopped for a drink.”
“We talked to an officer, a Major in the army who said the Japanese
are going to land troops at Hanoi and move north to seal off the border with
China.”
“Merd,” Veronique said “What the hell is the Army going to do, just
let them land.”
“It sounds like our government reached an agreement with the
Japanese. Don’t you think they must have, Harry? Otherwise I don’t think
the local army commanders would be cooperating.”
“That’d be my guess,” Harry said, “Whatever it is, it can’t be a good
thing. I think we should go back to Saigon as soon as we can.”
“It’s not safe to travel at night,” Veronique said, “We can leave in the
morning before first light.”
Dinner that night was a subdued, almost silent affair. Following the
meal they all filed into the Library for a talk. Francis took out a large-scale
map of Asia and they gathered around to study it. Veronique spoke first.
“Harry, you travel all over, what’s your thinking about what’s going on?”
“There’s obviously a trickle of supplies getting into Chiang Kai-shek’s
government over the border. My guess is that the Japanese are
desperately trying to put an end to the Chinese opposition, and think that

by sealing the border they can put the squeeze on them. But, in the long
run I think it’s all about expansion to the south. The Dutch are vulnerable
and there’s oil in the Dutch East Indies. Indochina is a good jumping off
place to anywhere south and west.”
“What will the British and the Americans do,” Francou asked.
“That’s difficult to say,” Harry responded, “The Brits have their
hands full in Europe with the war there. The Americans will probably pull
the ships in the Asiatic fleet back to the Philippines. The real problem is
what the Japanese are planning to do. Right now I’d say it’s anybody’s
guess. It doesn’t look good.”
“Last night you said you thought the Japanese promise to grant the
colonial peoples independence was not real,” Francis said, “Does that mean
you think we shouldn’t hope for the best.”
“Look at Formosa,” Harry said, “They made the same kind of
promise to the native peoples there. Now they are little better than slaves.
The Japanese forced everyone to learn their language. The schools are all
taught in Japanese, and the colonial government is run by them.”
“Harry’s right,” Veronique said, “The question is, what are we going
to do.”
“Francis can go underground,” Francou said, “But you and I are far
too French to pull that off. There will be all kinds of spies and informers.
The same people who work for the Securite Generale now, will be working
for the Japanese, pointing their finger at everyone they resent.”

“You and I can leave Indochina,” Veronique said looking at Francou,
“But what about Father, everything he’s worked for his whole life is here.
How can he possibly leave it all behind?”
Harry put his arm around her, “It can’t be easy for anyone. The point
is to plan ahead and try to anticipate the worst. If your father is half the
man I think he is, everything will work out.”
“Exactly, Francou said, “You should not worry, Father has survived
for many years. He will continue in that. Now, about tomorrow, I can drive
the truck with Harry’s shipment and follow you to the city. If we leave
before dawn can stop at the beach for a swim on the way.”
“We can ask Cook for a lunch to take with us,” Veronique said, “Is this
okay with you Francis?”
“There’s no point in me staying on here if all of you are leaving. I will
go first to Saigon and then Hanoi. I want to see for myself how the Japanese
act. You understand Harry that I cannot just take your word for what will
happen. This is just too important for the future of my country.”
At 5 AM after sleeping only two hours, Francou woke Francis and
then put their valises in the Lorry. The kitchen girl brought steaming milk
and coffee, and they headed out on the long slow drive to Saigon. Francis
slept in a corner of the cab until they were almost back in the city.
He woke up with a start and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go to
Hanoi. This may be the only chance I have to help our country achieve
independence. I’ll call you from there when I know more.”

“You won’t be able to tell me anything on the phone,” Francou said,
“The police will be listening on all the lines. How will I know what’s going
on?”
“Never mind. I’ll be back soon,” Francis said sliding over on the seat
to make physical contact. Drop me on the way and I’ll take a Rickshaw
home.”
When Francou stopped at a traffic light Francis grabbed his valise
and slipped out of the truck. At that moment Francou was convinced that
he would never see his friend again.
Francis reached his room as the sun went down. He lit a candle and
immediately repacked his bag. Then he went to a nearby café to use a
phone. The arrangements were simple; report to a warehouse in Cholon,
the Chinese section of Saigon. The place was near the vegetable market, He
was to go in a back door and then wait while all the passengers in transit
had assembled. On a signal they all climbed into a truck and settled down
on the truck bed while a cargo was loaded on the back half of the available
remaining space. The tailgate was finally slammed shut and Francis could
hear and feel the engine start. The route through the city was marked with
frequent stops before the truck headed north on old route 13 towards
Hanoi. Francis fell asleep before they hit the highway. A few kilometers up
the highway the driver rolled to a stop behind a line of cars and trucks that
were moving slowly through a police checkpoint on the highway. After 20
minutes of stop and go traffic the lorry reached the checkpoint. Francis

could hear the police demand the driver and his assistant hand over their
identification papers. Then after a few minutes he heard a demand that the
truck be pulled out of the line. Before long the tailgate swung down, and
lights played over the inside of the truck. Francis heard a remark that the
load was to be searched. The driver and his assistant were told to unload
the cargo at the back of the truck. Within minutes two gendarmes were
hauling the passengers out to be lined up on the road. An officer with a
clipboard was examining everyone. Most had no papers at all and seemed
to be simple farm laborers. One man was identified by a picture on a
wanted poster and was taken away in handcuffs. Francis stood by his
valise in his scholar’s robe until the officer approached. The officer seemed
to know him, and ordered him handcuffed. He was led off to a black police
van and pushed inside with the man previously singled out. Their
handcuffs were then clipped to lengths of chain that hung down from the
ceiling of the van. The trip back into the city was extremely painful. They
couldn’t reach anything to steady themselves on and they were constantly
thrown back and forth on the lengths of chain as the van careened down
the highway. By the time they reached the detention center Francis had
passed out and was unconscious hanging from the ceiling.
He regained consciousness when a bucket of water was thrown in his
face. Seated backwards on a chair his head hanging over the back he
peered into a bright light.

“What were you doing? Leaving your post?” the interrogator asked,
“Don’t you know that these are difficult times for the government. By
leaving you are inconveniencing your co-workers and your boss. Who do
you think you are?”
His own answer was unintelligible. Then a series of questions about
his political affiliations came fast and furious.
“Isn’t it true that you are a secret member of the communist party?
What cell are you in? Who is your cell leader? The questioning continued
for what seemed like an eternity. He was unable and unwilling to answer.
Then the beating started. An assistant hit him on the back with the Rota, a
length of bamboo cane that had been split, filled with lead shot, and glued
and bound back together. Forcefully applied this instrument of torture
could cripple and maim with only a few blows. The assistant was an expert
and Francis was soon screaming in pain. He begged them to stop and then
he passed out. Leperson, the interrogator, ordered him taken back to a cell.
For Veronique and Harry the trip back to Saigon was uneventful.
They stopped at the beach and after a swim and lunch they took a short
nap. By nightfall they were just entering the outskirts of the city. “We can
go out for dinner or stay at home,” Veronique said, “It’s up to you.”
“Dinner anywhere is okay,” Harry said, “I’d like to get some
newspapers. That’s the only thing I think we should do.”
“I can send the driver out to get them. Let’s stay at home for dinner.
We can go out for coffee in the neighborhood later if you like.”

When the driver returned with a handful of newspapers Veronique
quickly scanned them for news of the Japanese landing at in the north. It
quickly became clear that the government had a news blackout in place.
“There’s nothing in any of the newspapers about the Japanese landing,”
Veronique said, “The government is silent.”
“It’s probably a news blackout,” Harry said, “They don’t want to
inflame the natives. It would be a political disaster.”
“But, they can’t keep it quiet very long. If we know it there must be
hundreds of others. Word will filter back to Saigon.”
“And then it will be too late,” Harry said, “A fait accompli it will be
much less dangerous to the authorities. Then they can deal with sporadic
outbreaks of violence as they occur.”
The phone rang and Veronique was called to answer it. Harry could
hear her arguing in the next room. When she returned her face almost told
the story. “It was Francou. He’s beside himself. Francis is going to his
parent’s place in Hanoi. He intends to join the communist party. They
argued on the way back in the truck. I’ve never heard Francou so upset.
He’s afraid this will be the end of their relationship.”
“I figured from the way Francis talked at the plantation that he
already was a member,” Harry said, “Is it possible that’s the case, and he’s
just now communicating his intentions to your brother?”

“I suppose that’s possible. In any case it’s a shame. Francou loves
him so much. I just hope he doesn’t decide to follow Francis into that
damned party.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much you can do if that happens. The best
thing to do now is try and reassure Francou. It’s not exactly the end of the
world.”
Veronique crossed the room and kneeled at Harry’s chair. He put his
arms around her and comforted her with out saying anything. “Harry I am
so afraid. Father is a reserve officer in the army. He will be called to active
duty. He can’t run the business by himself if that happens. Francou could
also be called up in a general mobilization. He’s just not fit for military
service. He loses patience so easily and his temper with authority is very
bad. He will do or say something against them and be put in a military
prison.”
“It might not be such a bad thing for him to stay at the plantation. At
least he would be with a thing he has some investment in. If the Japanese
do take over they will need men like Francou to keep the economy running.
He might be a lot safer there than in Saigon.”
“You are right. I will stay here and keep papa’s business going. It is
the main purveyor of cooking oil and wine to the whole country. The
Japanese might let me keep it going. He sells tractor and farm machinery
parts as well. That will help.”

“The Japanese are sure to want all the latex they can get. Why not
ship it to them through your Fathers operation. The more valuable you are
to them the safer you will be. We can carry it to Formosa or where ever else
they want it.”
“Oh Harry you are so smart. That’s a wonderful idea.”
“It might be a good idea, but we haven’t any idea that things will turn
out as we want,” Harry said, “You have to remember that most of what is
going to happen is completely out of our control. I suggest you have a talk
with your Father and Francou in the morning while I go back to the ship
and talk to the police.”
“Harry, I think you should come and have a talk with my father. He’s
been waiting to talk with you. We can get up early and have breakfast with
him.”
“That sounds fine.”
After dinner Veronique and Harry walked down the hill to a local
bistro. They ordered cafe latte and watched the crowd surge by on the
street. Veronique listened to the conversation from the tables on either
side and then said to Harry, “No talk at all about the events to the north. I
guess that confirms the impression we got from the papers.” Just then a
small round man with a moustache dressed in plain clothes approached
the table and handed Veronique a card. “Mademoiselle Moitessier, I am
Leperson, I know your father well, and this must be Captain Kang.

“Monsieur Leperson is with the police,” Veronique said. A brief
conversation ensued which Harry did not understand. “Inspector Vigot
would like you to go to his office in the morning. It is about the incident on
the ship. What should I tell him?”
“Ask him what time would be good. I can go there directly from your
place in the morning,” Harry said. They settled on nine thirty.
“Who was that guy?” Harry asked after Leperson had gone.
“He’s in the political department,” Veronique said, “Nobody trusts
him. That branch is filled the worst thugs and reactionary people. Every
year they perpetrate the worst crimes against the so-called enemies of the
state. They keep perfectly innocent persons in detention under the most
inhumane conditions. They routinely disregard the rules against torture.
The worst thing is that the administration does nothing to stop it.”
“Sounds like a nice crowd,” Harry said, “In some regards even
democracies aren’t a lot different than the fascist states.”
On their way home Harry was conscious of all the eyes watching as
he and Veronique walked along the street and turned up the lane to the
house. She was clearly well known in the neighborhood and much admired.
Her beauty was transcendent and he gloried in it. Later, in bed, their
lovemaking had all the fervency of the first night they met. Their
impending separation hung heavy in the air. Veronique was the first to talk
about it. “I’m sorry I shan’t be able to go to Hong Kong with you Harry,” she
said, “If things work out maybe I can go with you the next time you come to

Saigon. You will be coming back won’t you?” Tears welled up and slid down
her cheeks. Harry Kang was moved in a way he’d never felt before. He held
her close to his chest as if his very life depended on it.
“I’ll be back,” he said, “There’s no telling how soon. But you must
know I will be back. There is something I have to tell you before I go. If war
breaks out, between the United States and Japan, I will be immediately in
the thick of it. That’s the only thing that can delay my return. Let’s pray
that it doesn’t happen, but I want you to know that no matter what I will
come back.”
“Is there something I don’t know about you, Harry,” Veronique said,
“I’ve wondered these last few days. Francou says you are very knowing,
and seem to understand so much.”
“If that’s true,” Harry said, “It’s because I have a good teacher. My
partner, Paul Li, is a very wise and clever man. When I built Golden Dragon
he saved me from a financial disaster. The business has survived because of
his business savvy. There are other things I can’t tell you about for your
own safety. It’s enough for you to know that if war breaks out I’ll be called
back in the US Navy. That would be the only reason that might delay my
coming back to Saigon.”
“Oh, Harry! I’ll burn joss sticks for you every day,” Veronique said,
“I’ll pray for your safe return.”
Jean Moitessier’s business,’ was located in a pair of large residential
buildings that had once housed a large extended family. Alone, after the

death of Veronique and Francou’s mother, Jean Moitessier lived in a corner
of an upper floor with his large collection of books and phonograph records.
Early every morning he walked to a café to have breakfast and read the
paper before returning to his office to manage the business. Veronique
knew exactly where to find him and they caught him just as he was
ordering breakfast. “Bon jour, Papa,” Veronique said as she kissed her
father on both cheeks, “You remember Harry.”
“How could I forget,” Moitessier said as he rose to hug Harry, “This
man is off in the countryside running around with my beautiful daughter,
and I can be expected to forget him. Don’t be ridiculous.” He looked at
Harry with a twinkle in his eye, “How do you like that Harry, my daughter
is old enough to think I don’t care what she does.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Harry said, “For the last three days
she’s been telling me that she can’t run away to Hong Kong with me
because she’s got to take care of you.”
“Ou la la! If I didn’t care for her so much I would have her whipped
for telling a lie. But that’s enough of that. How was your trip? “
“Good. I inspected the shipment. Francou took me flying and I
enjoyed seeing the plantation and the rest of the countryside. I didn’t have
any idea how extensive the canal system was. So much rice, it’s very
impressive.”
“You’ve hit on papa’s favorite thing,” Veronique said, “He’s in love
with agriculture. He farms rice as a hobby.”

“She exaggerates of course,” Moitessier said, “It is an article of faith
for a true Frenchman. Food production is mankind’s most important
undertaking. Of course I include wine in that. Unfortunately we cannot
grow decent grapes in this country so I have imported wine to sell. My
father started the business in France. By now we have the most extensive
wine sales in Indochina. We sell other things like cooking oil. But of course
wine is our biggest profit maker.
So, how about rice,” Harry asked, “Is it your hobby?”
“No, No, she is only kidding me. It is a scientific undertaking. I am
trying to cross breed a new variety. It’s to improve the yield. The normal
rice has a long stalk and much of it is destroyed in the monsoon. If the stalk
were shorter it would be more resistant to the wind, and the rain. Someday
I will succeed, but it is very slow going. I don’t have enough time to give to
it too busy with other things.”
“It sounds like important work, can’t you get the government
involved.”
“It might have been possible before the tragedy in Europe. Now the
colonial administration is completely confused. We lack any leadership,
and of course there is no money coming from home to support anything.”
“We need to have a talk, Papa,” Veronique said, “Has Francou talked
to you?”
“No, I was asleep when he came in last night. He was still sleeping
when I left the house. Let’s go back and see if he’s awake.”

Saigon’s streets always impressed Harry. Tamarind trees with their
tiny leaves glinted in the rapidly ascending sun and it was early enough so
the crowds had not yet formed. Veronique and Harry held hands as they
walked back to the company. Jean Moitessier had impressed Harry
immensely with his open smile and ready wit. When Veronique’s father
ducked into a shop for pipe tobacco, Harry said, “Your father is a
remarkable man. I liked him from the first, but now I can see how
admirable he is.”
“Yes, he really is special. He’s absolutely honest. He treats everyone
the same. Because of this his customers are very loyal. I just wish Francou
were more interested in business. My father needs his help, but it would be
a mistake to tie Francou down to something that is not suitable for his
character.”
Francou was up and dressed when they got back to the office. Harry
signed the purchase order for the latex shipment and Jean made
arrangements for it to be loaded onto the ship. Then Francou told his father
about the trip to the Mekong and the news about the pending Japanese
movement into the north.
“I am not surprised. I have been afraid of something like this for
some time. My customers in the north have been telling me about parties of
Japanese moving about the country up there for months, so I concluded
that it would only be a matter of time before they struck a bargain with the
government in Vichy. The Germans must be pressing General Petain to

agree to something like this. It truly is a shame on the name of France.”
“Papa, Harry has seen what the Japanese do in their colonial
territories. He is afraid the same thing will happen here if they take over.
What can we do?”
“I will not go to France. It would be like a betrayal of all that I have
worked for since I took over the business from my Father. So, I have no
choice but to stay here and try to make an accommodation.”
Harry looked at his watch. ‘Oh lord, I have to go. I am supposed to be
at the police station in thirty minutes. I’d better not be late.”
“I can have the driver drop you off,” Veronique said, then I can meet
you at the ship, or back at the house tonight.”
When Harry left the Moitessier compound the discussion was still
going on. He sympathized with his three newfound friends, and was
especially worried about Veronique. As it turned out, events in Indochina
were already moving towards the outcome he feared. On the same day the
Japanese landed thirty five thousand troops near Hanoi.
Inspector Vigot was waiting for Harry. “Good morning Captain Kang.
I guess you’ve heard the bad news up north. Thank you for coming. We
have part of the mystery of the attack on your ship solved. As I suggested
the first time we met the passport the attacker was carrying was a forgery.
The British consul here told us that the blank on which it was made
disappeared from the consulate in North China over a year ago.

He could not say how many blanks were taken but he did say that
forgeries using them have been turning up in various places.”
“Did he say who the foreign office thinks got a hold of them,” Harry
asked.
“Off the record, the British Consul said the Japanese were suspect.
What their evidence is for that assertion is I have no way of knowing. Of
course, for obvious reasons, they cannot level formal charges. I talked with
your two passengers myself in your absence. I was not sure they were
telling me the whole truth so I am interested in knowing what you found
out.”
“The only suggestion they made involved a domestic argument with
their older brother before they left home,” Harry said, “I discounted that
immediately because in my experience most families manage to settle their
differences after a time without trying to kill each other.”
“I would have done the same,” Vigot said, “Did you talk with them
about it. Perhaps that is why they seemed not entirely forthcoming when
they talked with me.”
“ I tried, without offending them to point out it was unlikely,” Harry
said, “Perhaps I was not able to reassure them completely.”
“I understand. While you were away did you think of anything else
which might be behind this whole affair?”
“No, I am a complete loss,” Harry said, “Naturally we will be more
careful about our security in the future.” Harry handed Vigot his business

card. “If you find anything further please let my office in Hong Kong know. I
will, in turn, write you if anything should occur that is worth informing you
about.”
“Before you leave Captain Kang, I would like to have an informal
talk with you. Do you mind stepping around the corner to the café and
having coffee with me?”
The café was busy. When Inspector Vigot and Harry entered the
place all the tables were taken. Harry realized that Vigot must be a
frequent visitor when the proprietor cleared a table of customers and
waived them to it. “I wish to speak about a delicate matter,” Vigot said,
“Ordinarily I would not breach such a sensitive matter to a relative
stranger, but you seem like an honest and level headed person.”
Harry shook his head, “No, it is all an act. Underneath I am an
unreliable romantic. If what you want to say is confidential I will not reveal
the source but I must remain free to use any information you tell me as I
see fit.”
Vigot laughed, “See I am right. Most men are dishonest to the extent
that if I had said that to the ordinary man he would instantly swear he
would never tell anybody, but the minute he got out of sight he would tell
the first person who would listen.”
Harry grinned, “That still leaves you with the decision about
whether to tell me.”
“Touché! But I still think I will take the chance.”

“I’m beginning to think I don’t want to hear this,” Harry said.
Vigot leaned close and lowered his voice, “I know that you have
become close with the Moitessier woman. Her father, Jean Moitessier is a
very upstanding citizen. Her brother, Francou, well he is a bit of a romantic
as you call it. He himself is not unreliable but he keeps questionable
company. I understand that Francis Xsai was at the plantation when you
were there. While you were there did you hear him say anything that might
suggest he is politically unreliable?”
“Harry did not hesitate, “Well, it is probably no secret that like a lot
of people in Indochina he is not overly fond of the excesses of the
government. He feels that the country could use more democracy and a
less oppressive French presence. Since the fall of France in Europe I can
imagine that many national patriots see the possibility of change. That’s
hardly enough to convict a man on, is it?”
“That depends,” Vigot said, “You see the Administration is obsessed
with the danger from the left. In their eyes the Communist Party of
Indochina is a very dangerous development. Could Xsai be a member of the
party?”
“Xsai could be a member of anything as far as I know,” Harry said, “I
didn’t have an impression one way or the other, but the communist party. I
doubt it. He spends most of his time in Buddhist meditation and practicing
calligraphy.”

“Should you see him it might help for you to remind him of his duty,”
Vigot said, “After all he is a member of the staff of the administration.”
“Frankly I doubt if will see him again before I leave. I will be seeing
Francou. I will give him your suggestion to pass along.”
Vigot sighed, “Ah, Captain Kang sometime my line of work is not
exactly what one wishes it were. Believe it or not, I am personally in
sympathy with people like Francis Xsai. Unfortunately, I am paid to be a
realist.”
“I understand. In my own line of work I have to do things that I
would rather not be doing. The overriding concern is to try and keep a
sense of proportion. Don’t you agree?”
“Exactly! Now I must go. Please stay and enjoy your café.” Harry
watched as Inspector Vigot exited, and then turned the corner on his way
back to the station. An amazing display of professional confidence, Harry
thought. I am glad he is not my adversary. A gust of wind blew a swirl of
dust down the street and a passing cloud dropped a smattering of rain as it
passed over. By the time Harry had finished his coffee it was bright and
sunny again outside.
It was late morning by the time Harry Kang returned to Golden
Dragon. A line of coolies was passing the raw latex up a loading plank and
the truck that Francou had driven from the plantation was almost empty.
There was no sign of Veronique’s brother but the truck’s driver came over
to Harry with a bill of lading for him to sign. The coolies slipped away down

the riverbank, and when the truck drove off, Harry went aboard the Ship.
He found Otani-san looking down into the main cargo hold watching the
crew balance the load by shifting the latex rolls into fairly even rows in the
bottom.
“How much is this stuff worth, Captain? I’ve never seen the basic
ingredient of rubber before.”
“It’s worth quite a lot if you have airplanes and you need to put tires
on them. The Japanese are desperate for rubber these days since the
Americans have been quietly denying them shipments from the States.”
“Is this shipment going to Japan?”
“Paul Li has a buyer for it. I’m pretty sure it can’t be used in China.
The Americans get most, if not all of their supply, from Brazil. It’s not going
to wind up in Europe. The final destination will likely be Japan.”
They walked back to the ship’s main deck and went into the
chartroom. “What’s the tide like,” Harry asked, “When’s a good time to
start back down the river.”
Otani-san, looking at a tide chart said, “High tide’s about 11 PM. If we
leave just before midnight we should be able to ride down on the fall. No use
leaving before that, we’d just be burning extra fuel.”
“Good idea, pass the word to the crew,” Harry said, “Why don’t you
get off the ship for a while.” I’ll be here until dinnertime. Then, I’ll go over
to Veronique’s place for a couple of hours before we push off.”

Veronique’s car and driver were waiting on the riverbank. Harry
climbed in and found Francou slouched in the back seat with a month old
copy of LeFigaro unfolded over his face. “Shit Harry I thought you’d never
come. The city is in an uproar. The police are running around arresting
everybody they think is what they call ‘politically unreliable’.”
“What about Francis, did he get away?”
Francou’s face had a stricken look; “He must have gone last night. I
tried to stop him, but now I’m glad he’s gone. I’m sure he’d be in jail right
now if he hadn’t.’
“How did he leave it with you,” Harry asked.
“He said, Sorry. He might not see me for a long time. It was a terrible
goodbye.”
“Before I left the police today, Inspector Vigot questioned me about
Francis. He wanted to know if I thought he was a member of the communist
party. It seems to be his way of warning both you, and Francis, that the
police are cracking down. He was suggesting that you were keeping bad
company. When did the arrests start?”
“Just after the close of business, last night. They roared around in
police vans and lorries just snatching people off the street when they came
out of their offices. It’s horrible. Now they are going through the housing
estates knocking down doors and dragging people out. The government has
announced a limited state of emergency.”

“It’s probably an effort to forestall any general uprising when the
news of the Japanese landing leaks out. Any word yet on that situation?”
“It started yesterday. One of Father’s people in the north called just
before I left the company. He actually saw them coming ashore yesterday.
They brought tanks and personnel carriers.”
How many troops, did he say?”
“He didn’t know. But he said there were Japanese ships all over the
bay.”
“That must mean they landed in force,” Harry said, “I wonder how
long it will be before they come here. They won’t just stay along the
northern border. That would be far too risky from a military point of view.”
Their car turned into the lane and labored up the small hill to the
house. Before they could get out of the car, Veronique came out and stuck
her head in the window. “I just heard about the arrests on the radio. Do you
know about it?”
“Yes, we were talking about it on the way here,” Harry said, “Francou
says the Japanese actually landed in force yesterday. It’s happening just as
we knew it would.”
Dinner was a melancholy affair. Francou was grieving over Francis,
and his abrupt departure. Harry explained his visit to the Police and told
Veronique about his conversation with Vigot. Half way through dinner
Veronique got up and put a Duke Ellington record on the phonograph.
Toward the end of the record the needle began skipping wildly and Harry

got up to blow the dust off the cactus needle. Veronique handed him a small
square of soft leather with “le Jazz hot” printed on it. “I need to change the
needle but perhaps this will help to get a few more plays out of this one.”
The sound of a car filtered up from the front. A car door slammed
and they heard voices below. “It’s Papa,” Veronique said, “I’ll go down.”
Jean Moitessier entered the room with wine bottles under each arm.
“I brought some new wine from Bordeaux. It just arrived today. Have you
heard the news?”
“You mean about the police,” Francou said.
“That, and the American’s. The BBC from India says that President
Roosevelt has taken a strong stand against Japan’s troop landings up
north. Do you think this will mean war, Harry?”
“No way to tell. Harry said, “ It is a slap at their national pride. It will
certainly throw fuel on the fire. Is there still no word from the authorities
here?”
“I heard from a friend at Army Headquarters,” Jean said, “ They are
going to call up all the reservists. I suppose that I’ll be included. I’m a little
old, but I think they will want everyone this time.”
“Harry suggested that if the Japanese come here we should try to
keep our business open by selling them latex,” Veronique said, “It would
make our company necessary to their war effort. His company can
transport what we sell, and of course we have our agricultural tools and
supplies.”

“Its just one idea,” Harry said, “I know it sounds bad but you are
going to have to have something to make them want to keep you in
business.”
They talked for several hours. The wine was all gone by the time
Harry went to the bedroom to pack his bag. Veronique came in with an
armful of his clothes from the line downstairs. The sat together on the edge
of the bed as they folding everything in tight blocks, and stuffed Harry’s
sea bag with a kind of solicitous care that was really meant for each other.
“I am going to miss you terribly, Harry,” Veronique said, “I will pray for you
and wait for you to come back.” Harry took her in his arms and rocked her
gently before getting up. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said. “Let’s
plan a long trip when this is all over.”
The Moitessiers drove Harry to the ship and saw him aboard. The
engines were running and the lines to the bank were ready to be cast off as
Harry went to the wheelhouse. He gave the order to get underway and
waved out the window as Golden Dragon backed into the current and
turned down river toward the sea. A few minutes later a government patrol
boat came along side and requested permission to board. Captain Kang
acknowledged the request and stepped outside the wheelhouse to get a
closer look. Two marine police were climbing up the boarding ladder. Then
Harry saw Vigot step out of the shadows and start up the same ladder.
“Good evening Captain Kang,” Vigot said as he came on deck, “May
we talk in your cabin?”

The light from a small oil lamp played over Vigot’s face leaving
shadows across his features that made him look older and more tired than
Harry Kang’s earlier impression. “To what do I attribute the honor of this
visit,” Harry asked.
“Regretfully it is an ugly bit of news,” Vigot said, “Last night Francis
Xsai was captured trying to leave the city. He was in a truck headed north
up route 13. Unfortunately Leperson and the political side interviewed him
before this matter came to my attention. They are an impatient bunch.
Their methods are primitive and, shall we say, lacking in sophistication. I
talked with him myself and I agree with you that he is politically naive. He
does present a problem however. If the political side gets him back he will
not survive their interrogation. If I let him go he will almost certainly be
caught again, and that would be his end.”
“Why tell me all this?”
“Francis Xsai should leave Indo-China for his own good. I thought
you might be willing to take him with you to Hong Kong.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Ah, yes. You ask about my motivation. A long time ago Jean
Moitessier did me a very big favor. In this small way I can perhaps pay him
back a little. Xsai is not a bad man. These are confusing times. He is only a
nationalist. And, France is not without fault in these matters.”
“Is Tsai willing to go?”

“Unfortunately he is not in a condition to decide this. He was pretty
badly treated. He will need medical attention and time to recover.”
“In that case I will take him,” Harry said, “Where is he now?”
“If you lower a cargo net the crew of the patrol boat will give him to
you. It will be a few days before he can talk. And, he will need constant
attention, and the administration of fluids.”
“Will you please give the Moitessiers word of what happened,” Harry
asked.
“Of course. Anything else?”
Harry slowly shook his head.
Vigot was right. Francis Xsai’s condition was poor. His face was
bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition. He drifted in and out of
consciousness and was not able to speak. Harry Kang checked his pulse. It
was weak but steady. “Put him in the spare cabin,” Harry said, “Then get
two of the girls to clean him up. Tell the cook to make chicken soup. Have
someone stay with him around the clock. Let me know of any changes in
his condition.”
In his cabin, Harry Kang poured himself a glass of scotch and
ruminated. What the hell am I going to do with an Indo-Chinese would-be
revolutionary? Paul Li is not going to be happy dealing with one more
problem added to all the other problems he has. Well, he’s always been
ready with an answer to most problem situations. There is nothing to do
but wait until we reach Hong Kong. He lay down on his bunk and quickly

drifted off to sleep.
Haiphong, Indo-china
The long range Kawanishi flying boat, now four hours out from it’s
base in southern Formosa, circled slowly over the heavily laden ships of
the Japanese invasion fleet anchored off the port of Haiphong. Colonel
Tsuji Masanobu, crouched in the observation bubble forward of the cockpit,
peered down at the dark shapes of the ships at anchor.
“According to the plan they should be unloading troops by now. What
the hell is going on?”
Captain Asaeda Shigehara, Tsuji's adjutant, leaned forward to get a
better look. “Maybe Tokyo changed the orders at the last minute. I don’t
see anything happening. Just signal lights from the flagship.”
“If that is the case, the order should be ignored. What do those paper
pushers in Tokyo understand about field operations? Nothing. Absolutely
nothing.”
The plan for the attack rested on Colonel Tsuji’s training that
stressed mental toughness and physical deprivation. In sessions on Hainan
he introduced the three man one mat space for sleeping, and rigorous
rounds of jungle combat training that practiced overcoming the physical
rigors of war. Reliance on the “Japanese Spirit” Bushido was made the
Imperial solution to all the problems the troops might encounter in the
field.

However much the high command might sing his praises back in
Tokyo, Colonel Tsuji was not popular with his fellow officers. There were
many who would willingly put a bullet in Colonel Tsuji’s brain if they had
the chance.
The flying boat’s pilot queried Tsuji over the headset. “What would
you like to do Colonel? Shall we land near the flagship?”
“No. Let’s fly by Hanoi as far as our troop positions on the Chinese
border east of the city to see what’s happening. I’ll come to see you in the
cockpit with some map coordinates.”
As the giant plane four engine plane flew over the coastline and
headed northeast of Hanoi, Colonel Tsuji could see flashes of light from an
artillery barrage along the road at the border town, Lang Son. This was
what he expected. Colonel Tsuji had planned for a ground invasion at that
point: Japanese forces, accompanied by a contingent of Nationalist Indo-
Chinese that he had recruited as a front for the advance. An insurrection
against the French seemed like a good political excuse for the Japanese to
take advantage of French weakness.
“Well, at least the Imperial Army troops on the ground are being
properly commanded. Giving those “Baka” Frenchmen something to think
about,” Tsuji said.
Capt. Asaeda grunted assent, then asked “What do you think is
happening Colonel?”

“Don’t be stupid. Look! Those are French forts down there. We’re
teaching them a lesson. It will be over soon. We’ll march towards Hanoi and
clear out the French on the way. By morning the rail line into China will be
in our hands. We’ll stop supplies from getting to the Chinese through
Kunming. Then the foreign office boys can take over, and we can begin
squeezing the French to take over the rest of the country.”
“I can see that. What should we do now?
“I’ll send a message to Tokyo and then we can go back to Formosa.”
The Imperial Palace, Tokyo.
Since early evening the Emperor of Japan, had been listening to
radio reports coming into the Imperial Headquarters section from his
Generals in Indo-China. Hirohito was worried about the reaction of
President Roosevelt to Japan’s invasion of Indo-China. For weeks he’d
vacillated over his choice of various strategies but there was no escaping
the geographical importance of having bases in Indo-China for the intended
thrust by Imperial forces into Malaya and Thailand.
Now, in this great game, Hirohito’s hand was being played by his
trusted field commander on the ground at Lang Son who was following
Hirohito’s secret orders forwarded through the Imperial military aides.
The Emperor was sure a winning blow was being dealt to the French
Colonial forces on the ground. He could imagine the situation of the French
General Maurice Martin. After almost two months of negotiation with
General Nishihara Issaku, Japan’s official representative, General Martin

had finally agreed in principle to Japan’s stationing of 6,000 troops in
Indo-China, with rights of passage for 25,000 more, and use of 4 air fields
in Tokin, but he’d been dragging his feet for weeks over the final
acquiescence.
Only a week before Colonel Tsuji had flown to Tokyo with the new
plan for this operation: Hot heads in the Japanese South China army were
impatient to expand into French territory. Acting under orders of the local
commander, units of the Japanese Twenty-second Army in South China
were deployed to surge across the border near a French fort at Dong Dang
in the early evening. The Japanese Fifth Infantry division would strike an
hour later at Lang Son. The Japanese commanders anticipated that fierce
fighting would ensue. The French battalions might fight bravely but they
were estimated to be no match for Japan’s regiments comprised of veteran
shock troops from the battlefields in China.
At this late hour, still worrying over President Roosevelt’s reaction,
Hirohito had his staff issue orders to hold back the troops Colonel Tsuji had
scheduled to land from the invasion fleet until such time as the progress of
the battle along the border could be assessed. If things were going well he
reasoned there was no need to invade from the sea. Later, When Colonel
Tsuji’s radio report arrived at Imperial Headquarters; the order to stand
down was issued to the Japanese commander of the ship-borne forces.
Finally, Hirohito was able to go to bed for what remained of the night. As he
lay under the silk coverlet in the gentle light of a small candle that

flickered near his sleeping futon the subject of Japan’s fast diminishing
supplies of petroleum threatened to disturb his sleep. Never mind. That’s a
subject for tomorrow. In under a minute the imperial breath slowed and he
drifted off to sleep.
South China Sea, Hainan Island
Colonel Tsuji Masanobu listened to reports from the battlefront on
the plane’s radio on his way to Hainan. He was in a jubilant mood when
they finally touched down on the greasy water at the seaplane base. He
leaped from the plane and ran to shore along the floating dock. He was
bellowing orders for a meeting of all the officers and men in his training
division. When everyone was assembled in a large clearing near the beach
he strutted to a bamboo lectern and lead everyone in a round of screams--
Banzai, Banzai, Banzai.
He suddenly charged over to a young private and dragged him to the
center of the clearing. He drew his baby Nambu pistol from its holster and
shot the private in the head three times. “You there. Don’t look away.
Harden yourself. None of you has ever spilled blood. Look! Here is what it
looks like. He stepped up and stood on the dead man’s body. The onlookers
sat on their haunches with their faces down, horrified by Tsuji’s brutality.
The officers sat frozen in place. Everyone there had suspected that
Tsuji was crazy. Now, no one doubted that their commander was a lunatic
and they knew that nothing could be done about it. Colonel Tsuji has
connections all the way to the Imperial throne. He is untouchable.

Later, in his quarters, still dressed in his dirty blood stained uniform
adrenaline was still pumping through his body.
“Kodama Yoshio, you should have seen the look on their faces at my
training meeting.”
He jumped to his feet, yelled Banzai, and started swinging his sword
around brandishing it in Kodama’s face. “Cold steel my friend. It needs the
heat of blood to polish. Heat! You hear me. Heat of blood!
“Calm down. Calm down,” Kodama said, “The blood will pop out of
your own head if you don’t take it easy. Here have some sake. Everyone
was impressed with your lesson, even me.”
Tsuji, unbending a little, slid down his sword scabbard and sat down.
Putting his elbows on the table he said, “Gomenasai, I am sorry. I know you
came to tell me what is going on in Tokyo. I will shut up. You should talk.”
There was a hard glint in Kodama’s eyes. “Yes, it should be my turn,”
Kodama said, “If we are smart we will come out of this campaign, this war,
rich men--richer than all the pigs walking around in their self-righteous
shit now. The bastard capitalists, and socialists, and communists will be
eating out our hands when we finish.”
“You will scare our enemies into coughing up all their gold and what
ever else of value they have,” Kodama said, “Then I will take our
“expenses” and our cut, and ship the rest back to Tenno’s palace.
“You are right Kodama, they will never know what happened.”
“Oh they’ll know all right. I’ll tell them it’s the cost of doing business.

Besides, what can they do about it? Even men like me have to have
someplace to live, and enough money to buy women and food. They think I
am just a common criminal. Their problem is they need men like us.”
“You say we’ll get rich. Personally I’ve never cared about money. The
only thing I care about is winning battles and my honor as a Japanese.
When you say rich how much are you talking about?”
“Tsuji my friend, you can’t even imagine. Not in a thousand years
would you come up with a big enough number.”
Tsuji said, “Well then, I won’t think about it. What are you here for?”
“Don’t get huffy with me,” Kodama said, “I am here to recruit you. If
you don’t get to hear me out, it’s too bad for you. I’ll have to find someone
else.”
“Don’t shit me. You are here because someone sent you. No you won’t
leave. You can’t leave. So get to the point before I get too drunk.”
Kodama leaned back. “Prince Chichibu sent me. He’s the commander
of a new organization connected directly to the throne.”
“What’s the name?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not called Chichibu’s ass lickers,” Tsuji said, “Or how about
Kodama’s whore-riders.”
Kodama feigned getting up to leave. “We’ll talk tomorrow when
you’re sober.

“No, no. I am sorry. Sit down. I promise to be good.”
“It’s called Kin no Yuri, Golden Lotus,” Kodama said, “But we don’t
speak the name. It’s a secret known only to members of the organization.”
He turned back the collar of his shirt to show Tsuji a gold stickpin with a
tiny golden lotus cast into its head. “We wear this to identify each other for
security purposes.”
“What kind of security is that? You just told me the name and I’m not
a member.”
Kodama grinned, “I’ll show you, he said reaching under the table and
pointing a German Luger pistol at Tsuji’s head. “If you don’t agree to join us
you are a dead man.”
Tsuji suppressed a nervous giggle, raised his hands in surrender. “I
give up.”
“I told them you would. You’re crazy like a fox, Tsuji-san. You are a
very smart and loyal subject as well. Here are two presents for you.”
He reached in his musette bag and handed Tsuji two small boxes,
“The small one is your membership pin. Open the other one and I will
explain. “
“It’s a sake cup,” Tsuji said, “Who is it from?”
Prince Chichibu gave it to me. It’s a present from His Majesty; to
thank you for all that you have been doing for the nation. It bears the
imperial crest in gold, the sixteen petal chrysanthemum.”

Tears welled up in Tsuji’s eyes as he sat at attention. He gazed at the
crest and finally he said, “We must drink a toast to his Imperial Highness
and the prince. And, finally to you and me.”
“Banzai.” Kodama and Tsuji drank and then sat silent as if in prayer.
Kodama broke the silence. “Kin no Yuri gives us a license to steal
from anyone in the conquered territories. It is our sacred duty to secure by
any and all means possible anything valuable, count it up, enter it into the
accounts, and ship it to the Imperial warehouse in Tokyo.”
“What is your job?”
“I am charge of sweating the gold and valuables out of the Chinese
and other native pigs. Rich bastards, anyone in fact, will hide money and
their valuables. And they lie about it, when the do that I will squeeze them
so hard their gold will shit out of their asses. Why do you think the bosses
picked me? It’s because I am a professional criminal. I know the way people
lie, cheat and steal.”
“So what do we do? How does it work? How can I be of any use?”
“In the occupied territories the military police, the Kempeitai, will
know who the criminals are and who is head of the gangs. Chinese gangs
are known as Triads. We tell them they can only operate with a license
from us. We will monopolize the drug trade. We grow more opium in
Manchuria than anywhere else in our part of the world. We will sell it to
the gangs, they will sell it to the Chinese and then we can accuse them of
being drug users, addicts. Under pain of death they will shit out their

valuables and we will collect them up. I have the perfect rat trap with
Opium as the bait.”
“What you intend should be illegal,” Tsuji said, “How will this work?
Why did you come here to see me? You have it all figured out.”
“Tsuji you listen but you don’t hear.” Kodama said, “I repeat we have
a license, a hunting license. Everyone in the organization is either in the
Army or the Navy. Orders are issued. We have access to ships, trucks, and
warehouses, even airplanes. We can “rent” anything, especially conquered
people as laborers. Our orders come from a higher place than any other
place. Now do you get it?”
“Okay. I understand. It is very ingenious. Who thought this whole
thing up?”
“Look, I have been watching how the rich people steal from the poor.
That’s why they don’t like ordinary criminals like me. They build prisons to
put us in so there will be no competition. Of course I have given my own
modest contributions to this plan. What do they know? Well they don’t
know everything. How do you sweat pigs? If you are a simple thief like a
guy who breaks into houses to steal you carry a gun in case the cops come.
Then you get a little smarter you rob a store where there is more money.
Finally if you are smart you start a gang and let the dummies do the dirty
work. Well Kin no Yuri is the perfect gang--big, powerful, nobody but us
knows enough to operate it, and we own the license.
“So what about me? What’s my role?”

“You are said to be the “God of Operations”. You know what the plans
are because you know where Japan is going to invade next. You have an
intelligence organization at your fingertips. You will facilitate our swift
action in new places.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
“This is going to be big, very big. It’ll be bigger than the Japanese
Zaibatsu like Mitsubishi, Mitsui and the others. Our goal is to be bigger
even that Standard Oil Company that sells it’s oil and lamp oil all over the
world. We can be bigger than the biggest.”
“Gomenasai, sorry to bother you. Is there any thing else for me?”
“Yes, General Ishiwara asked me to tell you that he needs
intelligence from Burma.”
“What kind of intelligence?”
“He said to tell you that the Imperial High Command has ordered
him to prepare a plan for an invasion of Burma. He knows that you are
very busy but he asked if you had someone under your command who can
go there undercover and look around.”
“Yes, I will send my bag man Asaeda-san to do it. He is high-spirited
just like me but not as smart. He’s terrifically brave and hard working. He
can notice things and report back. It should be no problem. Anything else?”
“Prince Higashikuni was at our last meeting before I left to come
here. He said to tell you that Nanking was a public relations disaster.
Shooting all those people men, women and children out in the open for

foreign reporters to see should not be repeated elsewhere.”
“It was to teach our enemies a lesson.”
“I know. I know, but we have a new approach. It’s called the Asian Co-
Prosperity Sphere. We still have to kill our enemy’s but do it in the heat of
battle. Not later when it can be photographed and written about in the
world press.”
“Okay, I understand.”
“Before we go to sleep I want to congratulate you on your entry into
Kin no Yuri. Here’s gold pocket watch I got off a dead Chink.”
“Domo Arigato, Thanks, It’s very nice. I’ll try not to loose it in
battle.”
Tsuji lay back on the floor. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I must
sleep. Thank you for coming so far to see me. It’s been a great day.”
Hong Kong
With all that had transpired Harry Kang was so busy that he’d all
but forgotten Francis Xsai. Now that he expected to be sailing to Saigon he
realized that he had to work out something for Francis before Golden
Dragon left Hong Kong. Harry decided to invite Francis to lunch in
Kowloon at an Indo-Chinese restaurant. The owner was an old
acquaintance whose roots ran deep in the colony’s Indo-Chinese expatriate
community.
As soon as they were settled at their table the proprietor came over
to greet Captain Kang. Francis was introduced and the two countrymen

began to talk in rapid fire Vietnamese. When the waiter arrived the owner
smiled at Harry. “Captain Kang, your friend is a good man. You can bring
him back anytime.”
After giving his order to the waiter, Harry asked Francis, “What was
that all about?”
“Nothing really, He just wanted to know where I came from and how
I happened to be with you. I told him you were a friend of my friend, and
that you offered me a ride to Hong Kong.”
Harry grinned. “That’s not too far off the mark. What about your
little accident?”
“Harry, you don’t understand. Every person from Indo-China is a
nationalist, even Francou and Veronique. This old man is waiting for the
French to leave, then he will return to Saigon.”
“I understand,” Harry said, “Even if he dies in Hong Kong he’ll want
his ashes buried in his native soil.”
“Yes, but it’s more than that, he wants to go back only if it’s a free
country.”
“You mean it’s all about politics?”
“No, Harry. It’s about freedom.”
“I guess I’m missing something,” Harry said, “You mean to tell me
that all those rice farmers in Indo-China couldn’t rise up and throw the
French out if they wanted to get rid of them?”

“They are peasants Harry, they are far from being revolutionaries.
Most of them are Buddhists and they are controlled by what their
ancestors believed. They can’t even imagine being free.”
“It sounds pretty hopeless if you put it that way.”
“No, that’s not the case. All they need is the leadership of a
revolutionary cadre. Look at China. The peasants there were the same, but
the Chinese Communist party under Mao Tse-tung has led thousands of
peasants into a revolutionary phalanx that is almost irresistible.”
“Well, the Japanese don’t see the Communists that way. To them the
Communists are just another bandit gang.”
“Harry, I agree on that point that’s why we need your country’s help.
The Japanese must be beaten first in China. But, in Indo-China the French
will ultimately have to fight the Japanese even if they are cooperating with
them now. The Japanese are too greedy to allow the French to rule in the
future.”
“So what’s the best thing for you to do now? You can’t go back to
your job in Saigon.”
“This old man knew Nguyen Ai Quoc. He was one of our
revolutionary heroes because he led the Indo-Chinese in the Paris Peace
talks after the World War. He was in prison here in Hong Kong. They say he
died in prison. I should go to Hanoi and try to find other comrades there.”
“I have a better idea,” Harry said, “Why don’t you come to work for
my company. As an American I will try to get my country to understand

that France should not be allowed to rule Indo-China. To do that I need to
be able to point to a democratic party that can be aided to take over from
the French after the Japanese are defeated. So I need reliable information.
You can help supply me with up to date facts.”
At this point in the conversation their lunch arrived and they settled
down to eat. Francis was taken aback by Harry’s suggestion and thinking
hard before he answered.
“Yes, I can see that could be very helpful to our cause,” Francis said,
“I will do it as long as I can, but if I find more direct and important work I
will have to leave the job.”
“Good, I accept your terms,” Harry said, “We are getting ready to set
sail for Saigon in a few days so continue your exercise, strengthen yourself,
and ask Otani-San for instructions while you are part of the crew. When we
get to Saigon we’ll be able to get fresh information from Francou and
Veronique.”
Thailand & Malaysia
Captain Asaeda and Colonel Tsuji headed down the boarding ramp to
the seaplane carrying handguns, and packs stuffed with counterfeit money
and clothing. Both men were in uniform but inside his pack Tsuji carried 2
complete disguises, one that included a Buddhist rosary, and a saffron
monks robe along with leather sandals, and another which made him into a
commercial traveler. Asaeda’s disguise was designed to make him look like
a tourist. His pack contained a light suit, shirts, and an assortment of three

neckties. The two men laughed and joked as they boarded the flying boat.
“All I need is a beggars bowl and I can eat for free all over Thailand,” Tsuji
said.
“I am a business man and I have plenty of money to buy women and
drink as much as I like,” Asaeda said laughing.
The two men settled in the radio room after putting on parachutes
that were useful as cushions on the hard metal seats. Tsuji signaled the
radioman they were ready for take off and after a few words with the
planes commander over the intercom the radioman gave them a thumbs up
as the giant craft taxied out over the glass-like waters of the South China
Sea. Their plane lifted up after a short takeoff run just as the Sun came
over the horizon.
Bangkok lay several hours to the west. Their route would take them
over Laos and Cambodia to the Thai coast and Capital city where they
intended to stay the night then take the train south to Malaysia the
following morning.
At 5,000 feet the air was smooth until they crossed over the
mountainous spine of Indo-China. Then suddenly turbulent air slammed
into the plane. The ride was very rough and they were both white knuckled
as they held on to their seats. “I’m getting sick,” Asaeda cried just before he
vomited his breakfast all over the front of his uniform.
“You weakling,” Tsuji crowed, “This is really nothing. Look, you’ve
ruined your uniform. How can I trust you with this assignment?”

Asaeda sat slumped over against his shoulder harness in a miserable
looking slouch. He reeked of sour smelling vomit and Tsuji realized that it
would take valuable time to clean him up and get him dressed in his
disguise unless they accomplished most of what was required while still in
flight. The turbulence gradually subsided and Tsuji managed to get his
subordinate on his feet so he could strip down and change clothes. Half an
hour later both men were changed and ready to disembark.
The pilot circled once over the landing zone off the beach south of
Bangkok, and spotted a motor launch the Japanese military attaché at the
Embassy had arranged to pick up Colonel Tsuji and Captain Asaeda. The
plane made a nearly perfect landing in a gentle cross wind and within
minutes the crew chief had dropped and set the anchor.
Colonel Shigehara Masanobu, Military Attaché in the Bangkok
Embassy, saluted the two men as they got in the hired launch. “Welcome, to
Thailand gentlemen. I trust you had a smooth trip.”
“O’haiyo, Shigehara-san. Thank you for coming to meet us,” Tsuji
said, “Well, the trip was mostly smooth, except over the mountains.
Captain Asaeda was a little sick but we are both fine now. Where do we go
first?”
“To the Embassy. I want to show you our latest assessment of the
situation in Malaya. I know you are in a hurry so I suggest we drive south
as quickly as we can. Go as far as Butterworth. There is a British Garrison
there we can survey. It will be good start.”

“How heavily defended is Malaysia,” Tsuji asked.
“Not very.” The British forces are fat and badly trained. The colonial
rot has taken away their fighting spirit.”
“Weapons? How are they equipped?
“Nothing newer than 1918. Old Enfield rifles and old ammunition.”
“Any artillery?”
“Not to speak of. That’s their biggest problem because they cannot
stop a tank, or any mechanized attack. In fact they have no real mobility.
The officers have old command Rolls-Royce armored cars but there are few
trucks.”
Tsuji poked Asaeda in the ribs saying, “See that’s why my bicycles
are such a good idea. We can run them down when they run away, and
shoot them all dead.”
Asaeda hadn’t really been listening. He was trying to imagine how he
was going to get to Burma and what he’d find when he got there but he
nodded in agreement, and whispered, “You are so smart Tsuji-san. The
enemy will fall away under your fierce attack. No doubt about it.”
Colonel Shigehara was amused by the exchange but way too polite to
say anything so he changed the subject. “Colonel Tsuji, I understand you
are operations planning manager for this phase of the advance against the
British control of Malaysia. How long do you expect the campaign to last?”
“I have be instructed by his Imperial Majesty to arrange for the fall
of Singapore in 60 days. I made a solemn pledge in person to accomplish

this or die in the attack. It will be done.”
“Really, I would have thought six months to be a realistic goal,”
Shigehara said, how can it be done so rapidly.”
“I have a secret but simple weapon. We are developing a bicycle corps
on Hainan. We will invade along the East coast but our main thrust will be
straight down the main supply road to the heart of Singapore.”
“Surely, the British will make several defensive stands in depth
along the route south.”
“Of course they will. That is our secret. We will slip by in the fringing
jungle on either side of the road. Combined air attack, tank attack and
artillery will make mincemeat out of them. They will surrender in droves.”
“Air attack? Where will that come from?”
Tsuji laughed, “Ah, you are very clever Colonel. The navy will
support us from one or two aircraft carriers. We perfected this technique
on the China Coast. The coordination is tricky but we have mastered the
way to protect our advancing troops while reigning death and destruction
down on the enemy.”
“But for this you need battle hardened veterans. Where will you get
them,” Shigehara asked, “From China?”
“We have drawn two divisions from there and they are in jungle
warfare training on Hainan right now. We can land 40,000 troops within
two or three days when we strike including 300 medium and light tanks.”
“And don’t forget artillery,” Asaeda inserted.

Shigehara was obviously impressed for he quickly asked, “Who will
command?”
“General Yamashita Tomoyuki,” Tsuji said, “He has already approved
my preliminary plan, now I must convince myself if it is correct, given the
conditions on the ground.”
By noon the three officers were headed down the road towards the
Thai-Malayan border on their way to Butterworth. The road was
reasonably straight, running parallel to the Bangkok-Singapore railroad
line for much of its 1,900-mile length. They passed green rice fields and
many water buffalo wallows where the giant animals, tended by small boys,
stood shoulder deep in muddy water. As the afternoon wore on it became
hotter and hotter. At the border crossing between Thailand and Malaya
they handed their diplomatic passports to the crossing guard for his
perfunctory examination and then drove on into Malaya. At Butterworth,
their first planned overnight stop they checked into a small commercial
travelers hotel operated by a Chinese family. They asked for rooms
overlooking the road and went to the communal showers to wash and cool
off. The old crone who handed out towels at the showers asked them if they
wanted a woman for the night. Colonel Shigehara rattled off orders in
Chinese to the woman and then said, “You will always remember me. I have
ordered young virgins for your pleasure tonight courtesy of the Embassy of
Japan.”
“I should have you court marshaled for that,” Tsuji said, “But I will

hold off until I find out if they are true virgins or not.”
“Asaeda had a big grin on his face, “I have been so long without a
woman that I will not care, virgin or not I will enjoy myself.”
After their showers they gathered in Shigehara’s room where the sat
cross-legged on the floor and examined a pile of topographic maps of the
terrain on the route to Singapore. “As you can see, the route is mostly level
all the way down,” Shigehara said, “I’ve driven down myself and there are
perhaps only 3 or 4 places where the defenders might have an advantage if
they chose to blow up bridges across the few shallow streams that cross the
route.”
Tsuji nodded and got up to go to the window. “It looks just as I had
imagined it. No problem for an organized force. What kind of resistance can
we expect from the Malays themselves?”
“None at all I would guess. Oh, there may be a few people working
directly for the British Army who will lift a hand against us, but in general
these people are a disgustingly lazy crowd. No fighting spirit in them at
all.”
Asaeda stirred himself and asked, “What about the Burmese?”
“Later!” Tsuji barked, “We are in Malaya and we are concentrating
on the plan for this place. Don’t waste time talking about Burma.”
The light from the sun outside dimmed suddenly and a tropical rain
suddenly pelted down in a huge deluge. A sudden gust of wind blew through
the room and lifted the maps off the floor scattering them across the room.

The downpour last only a few minutes but the volume of water that hit the
street had filled the gutters with water. As soon as the shower passed the
children and old folks came out on the street to wade through the water.
As the three men stood looking down on the scene below they could
hear the shouts of command as a military unit marched towards the Hotel.
Presently a squad of soldiers appeared striding smartly along the road.
They wore white turbans of the Sikh religion and were commanded by a
short non-commission officer in a Scots kilt. “This is part of a battalion of
Indian troops that came here last month to support a small company of
Malay recruits,” Shigehara said, “We don’t have much information about
them. They appear to be a special guard unit. I am guessing they might be
an honor guard from Delhi. Not a real fighting force.”
“They march good,” Asaeda observed, but they weren’t carrying
weapons.”
“No need,” Tsuji said, “This country looks completely peaceful. No
wonder everyone is lazy.”
Just as suddenly as the rain had arrived, the Sun went down and
lights went on in the small shops lining the street. A maid came down the
hall outside the room ringing a bell that was the call for dinner. The
evening meal was served in an inner courtyard covered with Nipa plant
fronds woven into panels laid on a skeleton of wood. The dining area was
furnished with bare wood trestle tables lit by pearl oil lamps that cast
shadows on the diners as 4 young Malay girl servers carried bowls of rice

and steaming fish curry back and forth from the kitchen. The three
Japanese officers were seated at a table with 4 young Chinese looking men
who were obviously traveling salesmen because each of them were
carrying sample cases when they came in from the street and sat down for
dinner.

Chapter 5
Hong Kong
Golden Dragon picked up a following southwest wind shortly after
clearing the Indo-China coast at Saigon. The crew raised and set the ship’s
sails. Powered by a steady wind for nearly four days, the ship had been
driven along its course on one long port tack. Captain Harry Kang stood on
the deck outside the ship’s wheelhouse and looked across the water at the
pale moon shimmering over the slop in the channel between Hong Kong
Island and Kowloon peninsula. The lights from the Central District on the
island sparkled against the black bulk of the island’s peaks behind the city.
Harry watched a sight that he had seen hundreds of times coming home
from his trips all over Asia. It never failed to attract his attention and he
considered that it must be one of the greatest views in the entire world.
Golden Dragon glided silently over the water and headed bow-in to a cargo
go-down on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong harbor, and was quickly tied up,
as it’s two passengers waited.
“We should stay hidden until we’re away from here. Elder Brother
may send someone to try and bring us back”, said Li Mee-Koh.”
Li Song laughed, “Do you really think Li Peng wants us back now? I
don’t think so. He’d probably rather have me dead but he certainly doesn’t
want me back.”
“After father died I thought you could work things out with Li Peng
when he became head of the family, but I should have known that you’d

never bow your head to him.”
“You know better than anyone, he and I never got along. When we
were in school here in Hong Kong, I seldom thought about him. Six years of
no trouble until we went home.”
He shuddered. “And now I’ve dreamed about killing him for
months.” A scowl crossed his face. “I’d do it now if he were here!” he said
pounding his fist in his hand.
Li Mee-Koh, changing a subject that made him uncomfortable, said,
“We’re going to need every gold piece we have, to find our way wherever we
go. I don’t want to use any money here that we don’t have to spend. Let’s
see what happens at Uncle’s place. Can you guess what he wants to see us
for? Why didn’t he say more in his message? Do you think he heard about
your fight with Elder Brother?”
“I don’t know. Uncle always seems to know everything, but he’s
pretty busy now and well, it doesn’t really matter does it?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t.”
One of the crew on the junk called out and motioned them forward.
They walked forward along the bulwarks of the ship past the miscellaneous
cargo piled on the fore deck down long planks to the quayside. Captain
Kang was standing on the quay as they stepped down.
“Be careful, even in Hong Kong,” Harry said, “We’re still not sure
who entered my cabin in Saigon. Give my regards to your Uncle. Tell him
I’ll report in tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Captain Kang. Sorry for any trouble we caused,” Li Song
said, “We hope to see you again soon.”
Within seconds they were able to hire a coolie to carry their bags
along with a lantern man to light their way. Their little group was soon lost
in the crowd along the waterfront. As they made their way to an address
off Nathan road, Li Mee-Koh and Li Song talked over their plan to leave
Hong Kong and travel the world.
The front of Uncle Paul Li’s Office was dark when they arrived in
front of the older four-story brick building. Li Song pounded on the door
and finally a light appeared on the second floor.
“What do you want?” a woman’s voice demanded. “The master is not
at home. He won’t be back until tomorrow.”
“It’s Li Song and my brother from Hainan. Open up! Let us in. Our
Uncle’s expecting us.”
“Okay! Okay! Just a minute young master.”
A sleepy looking porter ushered them in. A woman appeared and
said with a huge smile. “Ah! Young Gentlemen, it’s good to see you after
such a long time. Where have you been? Come in! Come in! You must be
tired and hungry. Uncle is not really away. He’s sleeping. He was up all
night and he worked late today. Do you want me to call him?”
“No, Auntie of course not. We can see him in the morning. Just tell us
where to put our things. But, we are hungry. Can we get something thing to
drink?” Li Song asked.

The woman nodded and said, “Yes! Yes! I’ll call the cook. It would be
best if your Uncle slept. Just put your things down here and come upstairs.
Your room is just as you left it. “.
The way up was through the back of a long narrow shop. Boxes made
of camphor wood took up the whole of the downstairs and the smell was
clean and sweet. As they went up the stairs of black polished wood to the
rooms above they were both filled with good feeling as memories of school
days in Hong Kong flooded over them; in an important way they were
really coming home again.
The place was their Uncle Paul Li’s Hong Kong house and office. His
own family wife, and three children, lived in a remote place out in the
countryside at his father-in-law’s ancestral home, two days away by
horseback. He visited there infrequently, having little in common with his
wife and in-laws. This was because Paul Li was a modern man a person
with ideas from the world beyond China. At least that’s what everyone said
about him. He left home as a young man, traveled to London, then on to the
United States where he briefly enrolled at Harvard. For a short time upon
his return he worked as a clerk in a traditional trading firm in Canton.
Then he married the owner’s only daughter. His new father-in-law was a
clever judge of character and moved Paul Li to Hong Kong to open a branch
office. Under Paul’s management the new Hong Kong office prospered until
it was doing most of the Company business. Then he was promoted to head
the entire Company. Paul Li was now established in Hong Kong as an

important “money man” in the business community of entrepreneurs and
traders that made the colony so important in Asia. The firm grew even
bigger as time went on, and it prospered mostly because of his astute
dealings. He cleverly established relationships with suppliers, and clients
all up and down the China Coast and as far as Korea and Japan. He traded
on behalf of the firm but was also allowed to trade on his own account. He
had cleverly devised a general shipping and trading company, which he
used to buy and operate a fleet of large armed junks commercial sailing
ships of ancient Chinese design. They could carry general cargo but also
had special compartments for carrying hidden loads of opium and other
contraband. The largest ones had complete false bottoms that could be
stuffed with the legendary and most precious commodity Gold.
After eating a quickly prepared dinner, the two young men
exhausted from the trip, slept without dreaming. Li Mee-Koh woke up first,
and laid along side his brother in the big rosewood bed. He could hear
noises from the other parts of the house and the smell of food drifting in
made his mouth water. He raised himself on one elbow and punched Li
Song in the ribs.
“Wake up! Wake up!” He demanded.
“Ayeya! What are you doing? Is it time to get up already?” Li Song
stretched and then pounded Li Mee-Koh on the back. “Let’s go in and see if
Uncle is up. I want to hear what he wants,” he said as he bounded out of
bed.

Breakfast was laid out on a long table, and the newspaper hid Uncle
Li’s face when they went in. Without looking up he said, “Well young
nephews sit down. Sit down and eat. I’ll be through with the news in a
minute.” The rice congee was good, and they quickly devoured two bowls
apiece along with all the breakfast melon on the table.
When he came out from behind his newspaper, Uncle Li’s face was
wreathed in a smile, his high collared white silk shirt gleamed in the
sunshine coming in the window over his shoulder, “How are you? Long trip
isn’t it? How were things on the ship?” Without waiting for an answer,
Uncle Li continued, “Well, I’m glad you are here. I’ve been waiting for you.
I’ve got a guest in town, an American visiting here. He’s brought an
opportunity we can take advantage of if we move quickly. He’s a mining
engineer. Knows all about gold mining. He came here from the Philippines
and he’s found gold down there he says. That’s a secret. I don’t want you
talking about this to anyone.”
“Gold! That’s exciting. But, Uncle, what does gold have to do with
us?” Li Song asked.
“If you think you’d be interested I’d like you to help me, “ Uncle Li
responded. “There may be a fortune in this, and I want to keep it in the
family, but if we don’t hurry this could get away from us. You can’t trust
strangers where gold is concerned especially a gold mine. There is just too
much temptation for people to cheat their partners. You are family. “ His
voice trailed off as a male secretary entered the room.

“Mr. Li, a messenger just arrived from the hotel. The American Mr.
Jim Casey would like to meet you in the hotel later this morning.”
“Yes, tell him we’ll be along just before noon. Order lunch in a private
room.” He smiled and looked at his nephews, “Make it a big lunch, these
sons of my brother will be hungry.” Then addressing Li Song and Mee-Koh
he said, “Why don’t you relax this morning before we go over to the hotel.
I’m meeting Captain Kang in my office in just a few minutes. When I finish
we can go.”
Harry Kang was waiting in Paul’s office when he went down stairs.
The men’s respect for each other was great; Paul admired Harry because of
his seamanship, political skills and his basic honesty someone who could be
counted on in all kinds of weather. Harry, on his side, thought of Paul as a
consummate businessman and a friend the best kind of modern Chinese
person. “How was the trip Harry,” Li asked.
“Good, We picked up the latex. I radioed you on our way back. Did
you get the message?”
“Yes, thanks. I’ll get an address where you can unload on Monday
morning. I didn’t understand the business with the Police in Saigon. What
happened?”
Harry told him about the late night intruder and the incident with Li
Song. “I was really relieved that he wasn’t badly hurt. He got a superficial
cut on his arm but he could well have been dead if he’d been asleep in my
bunk. The police said the dead man was carrying a forged passport on a

blank stolen from a British consular office in North China sometime last
year. It seems likely that it was an attempt on my life not Li Songs. Can you
think of any possible connection to one of our competitors or enemies?”
Paul was silent, thinking for a moment, and then he said, “It’s very
strange. I’m the only one who knew what you were doing in Saigon, unless
our codes have been broken. The only other thing that concerns me is that
there may be a political connection.”
“Before I forget, Li Song mentioned his older brother as a problem.
It’s probably not important but you might want to think about it,” Harry
said, “There is something else I want to talk to you about; the Japanese
have landed troops in force at Hanoi. Their stated intention is to move
north and seal off the border to China proper. It’s clear they want to shut
off the trickle of supplies that have been reaching Chiang Kai-shek’s
government by the back door.”
“I knew they were planning something,” Paul said, “Trouble is, I have
difficulty believing that is their real objective. How much can a few supplies
really be helping?”
“Well, if they do try to take over Indochina, I don’t think they’ll have
much trouble. The French Colonial Administration is mobilizing their
reserves but they seem completely disorganized otherwise. Jean
Moitessier thinks the Army will catch him and he’ll be called up.”
“Really, I can’t imagine it,” Paul said, “I’d have thought he’d be way
over aged by now, but I guess not.”

“Obviously they are scraping the bottom of the barrel to get officers.
Thing is, I think Vichy will order the colonial administration to lay down
their arms if the Japanese move South,” Harry said, “Their German
overlords will make it impossible for the French in Indo-China to resist the
Japanese now that France has been occupied.”
“The American government has responded to the Japanese move by
protesting to Japan in the strongest terms.” Paul said.
“I heard. The news came via the BBC in India while I was still in
Saigon. That should piss the Japanese off.”
“Do you think we can continue to buy latex, Harry?”
“Hard to say. If Jean Moitessier is called up, Veronique will probably manage the
business. Francou, well, that’s another story. He’s still managing the plantation for the
rubber company, but his Chinese friend Francis Xsai went off to join the Communist
Party in Hanoi. Unfortunately he was caught by the French political police and tortured
during interrogation. On our way out of Saigon a patrol boat delivered him to the Golden
Dragon. The ranking police inspector asked that I take him out of Indo-
China bring him here to Hong Kong. He owes Moitessier a favor he was
trying to repay. I did what he asked. Xsai’s still on the ship too busted up to
move.
I recommended that the Moitessiers try to keep doing business as
usual. I told them that we have a market for Latex and would continue to
do business with them as long as it’s possible.”
“Good thinking, Harry,” Paul said, “We can deal with Xsai later when

he’s able to be moved. The Japanese will take all the rubber we can get. I
just hope the Moitessiers take your suggestion and the Japanese don’t cut
off our own supply.
“About the Japanese, even if they take over in Indochina, I doubt if
they’ll have time to organize their own trade for a while.” Harry said,
“What else is going on?”
“There is so much I don’t know where to begin,” Paul said, “It’s almost the end of
our business year. Thanks to you, our profits on Golden Dragon are much better
than last year. It’s almost time to talk to your American friends about
renewing our contract for a higher figure, don’t you think.”
“Yes. What should I do, go see Admiral Hart in Tsingtao?”
“You’ll have to talk to him in the Philippines instead,” Paul asked.
“Why is that?” Harry asked, “Why go all the way down there?”
“The American Fleet is leaving China. The Admiral Hart has ordered
the U.S. Asiatic Fleet back to the Philippines,” Paul said.
“I’m not surprised.” Harry said, “Admiral Hart is no fool. He’s
figured out how defenseless the Fleet is against all the firepower the
Japanese Navy has out here.”
“Well, if anybody knows about that it is you” Paul said as he reached behind his
desk. He put four glasses on the desk top along with a decanter and a water pitcher, “This
is the last of the plum wine. It’s good but you need water at the same time. About the
Philippines, I’m considering a business deal down there. If I can reach agreement it will
be in the next week or so and we’ll need to ship some stuff down there. Why don’t you

move the boat over to the shipyard at Lantau Island for a few days and have the bottom
scrapped and painted. That way you’ll be ready if I can put this deal together because
you’ll need to go to Manila right away. Take Skip Moran and go down to Macao while
the shipyard is working on Golden Dragon. As I recall he likes to play the
horses. Then we can make a plan when you come back.”
“The boat’s not making money unless she’s sailing,” Harry said,
“Still, if it’s okay with you we could do that. What’s going on in China?”
“Business in gold is good, every time the Japanese rattle their
sabers, rich Chinese come running into our shops to sell gold at cheap
prices. Every thing else is chaotic. General trade good are just not reaching
the ports. The war has all the normal trade routes messed up. The mills in
Shanghai are still operating. I heard Jardine Matheson just declared the
biggest profit ever from their textile operations in Shanghai. Of course
everything costs more and it’s hard to see how good times can continue
unless the fighting stops.”
Paul picked up an English language newspaper on his desk and held
up the front page for Harry to see. A large headline read, ‘What Will Japan
Do?’ “This came out yesterday,” Paul said, “The lead story is all about
European, American, and Japanese interests in the treaty ports. All sorts
of rumors are flying around about U.S. Navy getting out. Will they stay in
the Philippines or go back to Hawaii? What do you think?”
“You and I have talked about this before,” Harry said, “I’ve never understood
why, apart from the lousy weather in the Philippines, the Asiatic fleet has spent every

summer on the China coast for the last how many years God, it must be nearly twenty by
now. The river gunboats I can see. But cruisers, destroyers and submarines≠ I never have
understood it as anything more than just showing the flag along the China coast. It’s very
expensive to deploy up there every summer. Maybe the Navy Department has finally
looked at the situation since the Japanese now out gun them.”
“Yes, it is strange. The world’s navies seem to copy each other. I
remember being in London my first summer overseas; the London Naval
Conference was on. All the powers were there. My friend and I went down
to the Admiralty building on Trafalgar Square to see if we could find any of
the delegates at the Conference. It was brilliant day. We waited in a big
crowd, then various naval representatives and the diplomats came out on
the street. The Japanese looked so small and insignificant my friend said it
was right that they be given a much smaller fleet in the negotiations. He
was such a wag. He reckoned they didn’t deserve to be at parity with the
United Kingdom and the United States small people, small ships.”
“A lot has changed since then,” Harry responded, “You and I know
what the Japanese have been up to building the world’s third largest navy.
I’m not sure the Americans have really been watching.”
“Well, the British haven’t been doing much better,” Paul said, “They
are so busy with Hitler right now, I doubt if they have much time for
consideration of the Japanese threat. I’ve got to go to a lunch meeting,
Harry, why don’t you do what I suggested take the rest of the weekend off.
Go to Lantau, and if you and Skip decide to go to Macao, I’ll get a message

to you if you let me know where you are staying. Above all, be careful until
we figure this Saigon thing out.”
“We’ll do that,” Harry said, “Skip and I can use a few days off.”
Paul Li went off to the Hotel alone to lunch with his visitor. Li Song
and Mee-Koh went asleep again after breakfast and the housekeeper
suggested that he let them rest. He called for a taxi and was deposited in
front of the Peninsula Hotel just before noon. The hotel was by far the most
luxurious in Kowloon and the majestic entry hall was resplendent in newly
gilded columns. The place was rapidly filling up with the lunch trade.
Paul called James Casey on the house phone. Casey was apologetic:
“Paul, I’m sorry but do you mind if I bring an old acquaintance of yours to
lunch, Caleb Bingham is here and he’d like to see you.” Paul agreed, and
they arranged to meet in the dining room just above the mezzanine.
Paul arrived first, and sat at window side looking out over Hong
Kong Harbor, a world he knew so well. The roadstead was covered with
ships at anchor. The western style steamers were the most noticeable but
they were far outnumbered by the Chinese cargo junks. Long-range trading
junks like Golden Dragon, just returned from long overseas voyages, plied
the outer waters of the Harbor. Paul Li knew all of the major shipping
firms, and had shipped small amounts of gold and other commodities with
the most famous lines. This was a blind he had practiced to a fine art. The
really valuable cargoes he shipped on heavily armed ships whose captains
he knew for certain would not steal or divert the cargoes.

After finishing his visual survey of the Harbor, he was trying to
remember the last time he’d seen Caleb Bingham when two men
approached over an expanse of the hotel’s finely woven carpet. “Paul Li,
you haven’t changed a bit,” Caleb Bingham said, “I’d have recognized you
anywhere.”
Paul Li got his feet and smiled, “Flattery like that will get you a paid
lunch. How are you Caleb? I was sitting here just now trying to figure out
when we were last together.”
“I was thinking the same thing on the way down. It might have been
in Boston in 1929.”
“Jim here tells me you’ve landed in Manila,” Paul said, “How do you
find it, and what on earth are you doing way out here?”
“I joined the American administration in the High Commissioner’s
Office several months ago. Being second in command behind an appointed
politician has its problems but I am coping. Manila’s a little provincial for
my taste, but for a bachelor like myself there are a few compensations. But,
what about you, how long have you been in Hong Kong.”
“Since I came back to China from the States close to ten years now,”
Paul said, “I can’t seem to get away, we are always so busy. By the way I
ordered lunch in advance. I hope you don’t mind eating a mixed Chinese
fare.”
The Peninsula Hotel prided itself on its private party fare and the
lunch was resplendent. “This is a meal fit for an Emperor,” Caleb Bingham

said, “Better than I’ve seen, even at the President’s Palace in Manila.”
“Do you think so,” Paul said, “I’ve always thought they have a rather
good chef here. I hope you enjoy the food.”
“First rate,” Jim Casey said, loading his plate with lobster from a
heavy silver plate.
The three men ate steadily for a while without talking. Then Paul
said, “Jim, what really brought you to Asia?
“Well, I guess I’d have to say Caleb here is the instigator, he wrote
and said he needed someone with my qualifications, so I came out.”
“I know you have experience in mining,” Paul said, “Weren’t you
trained as an engineer?
“Yes, that’s right mining engineering. When I graduated from the
College of Mines at Berkeley my first job was in Mexico. I worked at a mine
owned by the Hearst Family. A college friend Phoebe Apperson married Mr.
Hearst, and her father-in-law got me the job. I went down and got married
down there. My wife was a Mexican citizen. She was killed in an accident at
the mine two years ago. It was pretty distressing as you can imagine. I left
there and joined my son at Berkeley shortly after she died. I’ve been
prospecting for private companies since then. I found Chrome deposits in
Northern California and Southern Oregon. It’s a commercially significant
find. I have some small royalties coming in from that.”
“How’s your son doing,” Bingham asked.
“That rascal,” Casey said. “He took engineering in school and now

he’s headed out here to help me. He’s on a ship, which is supposed to be
getting here next week. I’ll wait here until he gets in. His mother wanted
him to be a doctor but I guess he had too much fun knocking around the
world with me so he followed in my footsteps, took up mining as a course of
study. He’s convinced he can discover a major mineral deposit and get rich
in a hurry.”
Paul turned to Caleb Bingham; “I hope you don’t mind us talking
about business over lunch?”
“No, don’t mind me.”
“First, I have something to say to Mr. Casey here before we talk
further about the Philippines.” Paul Li leaned forward in his chair; his eyes
were intent on communicating directly to the American. “After talking to
you the first time last week, I want you to know that I checked on you
before agreeing to see you again. My friends in San Francisco say your
personal reputation is good. That’s enough for me, so if we can get down to
the business at hand, and the details are satisfactory, I will consider
investing.”
Casey was momentarily speechless, then he leaned back in his chair
and said, “This is very welcome news. I must say I didn’t expect you to
agree so quickly but. Yes, well I accept. But, there’s one thing I am curious
about,” Casey said, “How did you check on me in San Francisco.”
Paul laughed, “The Chinese Association, they knew all about your
family grandfather and your father. They helped the Chinese in San

Francisco after the big earthquake and fire, lending money, and goods, to
put Chinese people back in business, no interest, just help. Very good
family.”
Yes, they were. I’m glad that someone remembers.”
Caleb Bingham leaned over and punched Casey on the arm; “I told
you Paul’s a real businessman. I couldn’t be more pleased for both of you
and the Philippine Government.”
“Now,” Paul Li said, “I do not know exactly the situation in the
Philippines, can you help me understand.”
Caleb Bingham spoke up, “Well yes, it’s pretty simple. As you must
know, the islands are basically agricultural. By that, I mean there’s very
little real industry and the mineral resources are minimal as far as anyone
knows. There is gold. The Japanese have been mining on a small scale in
Benguet in the north of Luzon. Our idea is to look for additional mineral
resources, expand gold production if it’s possible, and at least make sure
there’s not something we’ve been missing all these years. I figure Jim
Casey is our man to find these things out.”
“Why doesn’t the US Government do this itself,” Paul asked.
“No budget,” Caleb responded, “But we can give you help in a lot of
useful ways; permits, access to our surveys and mineral maps, and we can
strike a deal with any commercial firm that wants to set up business.”
“What about this gold that Jim’s found,” Paul said, “Is it
commercially exploitable?”

“Not yet,” Jim said, “Here’s what I’ve done so far. In the last three
months I’ve traveled to where the Spaniard Magellan found gold when he
arrived in the Philippines. Cebu was the first place I went. By panning in
the gravel in a dozen small streams I found gold in small quantities in most
of them. In one, on the north coast, I found this small nugget.”
Paul Li reached out and took the nugget from Jim, “Yes, it’s quite
nice. I always like to feel gold in the natural state. So what is your
conclusion again?”
“There is gold there. It’s probably in seams in a number of places
deep in the mountains. By following the streams back to their source I
should be able to locate the source of the gold. Now, it could turn out not to
be commercially viable. That’s the risk we take. It’s a chance that all
mineral prospecting takes.”
“Yes, I understand. But obviously there are other considerations.”
“That’s what I’ve come here to see you about, Paul,” Caleb said.
“Let’s go somewhere more private. We may want to talk very
seriously.”
The Peninsula hotel had private smoking rooms that were designed
to provide all its top customers businessmen and politicians alike
confidential places to talk. Paul spoke to the maitre de and they were soon
ensconced in such a room. Sinking down in the leather overstuffed chairs
the two Americans drew cigars from their pockets and lit up. “Cigar, Paul,”
Casey offered.

“No, thank you, I don’t smoke but I will drink.”
An attendant wheeled a cart filled with liquor bottles over and took
their drink orders. After the waiter finished pouring their drinks, Paul
spoke to the man in Chinese, and he withdrew from the room.
“Paul, What is the situation in Asia,” Bingham asked, “From my
vantage place in Manila it’s very hard to know what’s going on.”
With out saying anything Paul Li got up and walked to the window.
He stood there looking out and pondering his answer. He knew that if he
spoke frankly it might prejudice his future negotiations with Jim Casey but
he decided to be as open as possible. There is not that much to loose he
thought. Then he turned back to face them. “Well, I am really a bit
overwhelmed by your question. I’m a person of little knowledge just trying
to run my company. It’s true I hear a lot of things but I am not really
competent to answer your questions. There are people you could find that
would be much better to ask than me.”
“Don’t be so modest, Paul,” Bingham said, “I know it is the Chinese
custom, but you can speak freely with us. We’ve known each other for a
long time.”
“But surely Caleb,” Paul said, “You must have a much broader
knowledge than I do. You have the resources of the US Government behind
you. Surely your government knows what is going on and even more
important what is likely to happen.”
“Yes, Paul, the US Government is concerned about the military

situation in Asia, especially as it affects American interests in a wider
sphere. This includes the Philippines. The Japanese are a very big worry.
Nobody thinks they can be trusted to live up to their international
agreements. They now occupy Korea and Manchuria. They threaten to
take over all of China, at least all the important coastal areas. Will they
defeat Chang Kai-shek’s forces? Nobody on our side understands what’s
going on with the communists in China. One day Chiang Kai-shek
announces a victory over their forces and the next day they pop up in a
new place. Then, there are the Russians. They are preoccupied with events
in Europe and the Germans right now but they still have a big military
presence in Asia. There’s nothing-consistent coming in. One of our
problems is that we’re forced to rely heavily on reports from western
journalists and our State Department officers overseas. They don’t always
get the story right.”
“What about your military,” Paul asked, “You must have military
intelligence coming in.”
“One big problem is that the War Department planners are so
completely isolated from the State Department that nobody knows what
the Army knows except the Army. The Navy is so concerned with getting
the naval treaty obligations right that all they think about at the Navy
Department is how many tons a new ship is going to weigh.”
“What about your own intelligence estimates?”
“We’ve been under funded for years,” Caleb said, “We get some

information from old friends, operatives that used to be paid by us, but
every day less and less comes in. No pay, no play. You know how it is.”
“Yes, unfortunately, one must pay to get reliable information or have
some other way of making sure people are bespoken to you,” Paul said.
The State Department is frustrated and is questioning everyone in
Asia they can get to cooperate for information,” Caleb said, “I’ve got to
make a report and I desperately need more information. Being in Manila is
like being a million miles away. I might just as well be on the Moon.”
Paul took a drink and cleared his throat. “Of course I am willing to
talk with you informally but I wouldn’t want you to place too much faith in
what I have to say. They are after all, only my opinions.”
The two men nodded their heads and drank deeply. Then Paul began,
“I would like to begin where we left off after lunch. Mr. Casey, I want you to
know exactly why I have decided to work with you. First, all of China is
under siege. As you know China’s politics are a mess right now.”
“What I don’t understand is what started it all,” Jim asked, “Wasn’t
China stable for hundred of years.”
“It was, until the last years of the 18th Century when England came
and started selling opium and the Dynasty couldn’t prevent it from
happening.” Paul said, “It did manage to hang on for another hundred
years. Basically like all governments, the Ching Dynasty was a victim of its
own internal contradictions, but Western influence and power politics
really added fuel to the fire by forcing China to open it’s doors.”

“I remember my father saying the Chinese in San Francisco
supported the revolution with donations of money,” Casey said.
“Yes, everyone was excited in 1911,” Paul said, “When the
democratic revolution came, everyone assumed that Sun Yat Sen would be
able to unite the country. It didn’t happen because the country fragmented.
Generals from the old armies of the Ching, antagonistic to each other,
began competing for the right to lead the country. It was a terrible period.”
“Didn’t Japan get involved about that time,” Bingham asked.
“Yes, In 1914 Japan jumped in when World War I started. The
European Powers, and then the American’s, became involved in the war in
Europe, this distracted everyone out here long enough for Japan to take
over the former German concessions in China.”
“Japans been expansionist for a long time, hasn’t it,” Casey said.
“Look what they did to Korea, and then in Manchuria.”
“I know,” Paul said, “Foreigners blame China but really, the civilian
government didn’t have any real chance to unite the country with all the
outside influences, and interventions by the Japanese in North China.”
“What about the communists,” Bingham said, “That’s been a problem
hasn’t it?”
“For a long time now, we have been afraid that civil war would doom
all our country,” Paul said, “The Communists, are now in the North, and
have been fighting Chiang Kai-shek since he betrayed the left of his own
party at Shanghai in 1928. I for one, think the struggle has so weakened

the country that we cannot resist the Japanese much longer. We need help
from the United States and Great Britain. Unfortunately help never seems
to come. In the meantime, my company is finding it more and more difficult
to do business. Day by day, events make it hard to be assured we can make
money and even if we do, the question is, can we keep what we make.”
“So what’s the solution then,” Caleb Bingham said, “How can you
stay in business?”
“That is why I am interested in Mr. Casey’s idea, if the gold business
is good in the Philippines we stand to make a lot of money. But that is only
part of it. Manila could be a good place to do all kinds of business if we
cannot carry on successfully here. Your American administration there
seems to be reasonable. Maybe I can move our company there. We already
have a small branch office in Manila. It is small now but we can grow it
bigger.”
“Okay, I understand,” Bingham said, “But from the US Government’s
point of view our immediate problem is China and the treaty ports. Can we
expect to do anything about keeping them open.”
Paul Li looked down at his feet and said, “I think the Japanese have
very big ambitions in all of Asia. Who knows, they may want to have much
more They could be thinking of India and Australia. The trouble is you
Americans are unwilling to send more than token forces to the Pacific. A
couple of gunboats and a few thousand troops are not going to stop the
Japanese if they decide to take all of China and go beyond. I’ve been to

Korea, Manchuria, and Formosa. The Japanese are very determined and
hard working. They are also greedy. People say the British are greedy but I
think nobody is greedier than Japanese. You ask about the treaty ports,”
he continued, “Tsingtao, Shanghai, Canton and Macao are just pawns for
whoever is in a position to exploit them. In some ways it makes no
difference if the Japanese control them. The Kuomintang The Nationalist
party of General Chiang Kai-shek has been raising taxes and confiscating
goods in the treaty ports under their control. It’s crazy. They promise
much but deliver misery to the people and impossible conditions for
business. In one other ways the Japanese make things impossible. They
want to control all the manufacturing and trade in areas under their
control. In all my years of doing business this is the worst time. Nothing
like it before, and it’s getting more and more uncertain.”
His voice trailed off, and he looked out the window. “Now the Chinese
government is forcing us to take paper money in return for gold. They take
gold and give us worthless paper. Inflation is killing the country.”
“I should think the Japanese already have more than they can
handle,” Caleb said, “I’ve heard they plan to give up some parts of
Manchuria to a Chinese regime there. Have they established a puppet
government? That’s what appears to be.”
“Yes, nobody should be fooled.” Paul said, “The Japanese have no
intention of letting anyone really run territory they control. The regime
they’re setting up is just window dressing. As for real power, I think they

are the most organized, best-equipped country in Asia, there’s no doubt
about it. The British are sitting here in Hong Kong and Singapore dreaming
of their glory days when already they are no match for the Japanese. No
one I know agrees with me but I consider that Japan is the most dynamic
nation in our part of the world right now. I’ve been to Formosa and seen
what they have been doing there. They have the whole country organized.
It’s producing food and products that are being sent back to Japan and
traded all over Asia. Tell me, what other country out here can do anything
like that.”
Yes, I can see what you mean,” Caleb said. “It’s refreshing to have
your point of view otherwise I wouldn’t have thought of looking at them
this way. What you are saying is that Japan’s not just another country
looking for a bigger sphere of influence in China. What they really want is
total control Is that it?”
“Of course. That’s why they have a whole network of research
bureaus and government study groups operating out of the South
Manchurian Railway Company and in Formosa,” Paul said, “The Japanese
Kwantung Army is in control of everything. I know because they force us
to deal with them in North China and Manchuria. The Japanese military
attaché here in Hong Kong calls me into his office just about every week to
tell me what they want done at our offices up there. It’s the same in
Tiensin, Singapore, and Peking. I can’t refuse them cooperation unless I
want them to close us down and confiscate our property in Manchuria and

the other areas under their control.”
That sounds like a pretty uncomfortable situation.” Casey said. “Isn’t
there anything you can do about it?”
“It is very uncomfortable. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is
to move assets out slowly and reduce our exposure. The problem is that
beyond a certain point you can’t really operate the business. And, the
worst thing in the money business is to appear to be weak. It’s a pretty
tough balancing act. But, you really don’t need to hear more about my
problems.”
Bingham asked, “What about the Philippines? The American
Government has asked me to report what strategic position they might
play in the future. Any ideas?”
Li laughed and said, “Well, we set up shop in Manila and I hide
behind the Stars and Stripes.”
Casey smiled, “Now, I really understand why you so readily agreed to
come in on the ground floor of my gold mine idea. Seriously though, what
role do the Philippines play in Asia?”
“None, I hope. My idea is that the Philippines are just far enough
away, and not important enough, for anybody to care. There’s no utility
there for Japan, if as you say there are no proven sources of oil, minerals,
or anything else of value there to speak of. And, it belongs to one of the
great powers The United States. Don’t you agree?”
“Sure,” Casey said, looking at Caleb Bingham, “Perfect place to have a

gold mine.” They grinned at each other. Then Bingham said, “Thanks for
the ideas. I want to finish my report to Washington here before I go back to
Manila. I take these requests for information seriously because, as I
indicated before, I suspect they don’t have many well informed sources
that know much these days.” Then he looked at his watch; “I must be going
I’ve got an appointment at the American Consulate.”
Paul and Casey stood up, “Thanks for coming to lunch Caleb,” Paul
said, “I am going to be having a party at my club in a day or so and I would
like you to join us. Are you interested?”
“Of course, I’d like that,” Caleb said, “just leave a message here at the
Hotel and I’ll come.”
After Caleb Bingham left, Paul said, “Now that we are alone why
don’t we talk about our business arrangements.”
“Yes, let’s get down to business,” Jim said.
“About financing this business my side is okay about the
arrangements we have already discussed. We will share fifty-fifty. We will
make funds available to fund the prospecting. We already have money in
the Bank in Manila we can make available for this. For your part, you agree
to pay us back fifty percent of the costs we advance, out of your share of
the first profits. You agree to be the President of the New Eldorado Mining
Company and represent it to the American Administration and the
Philippines government.”
“That’s great,” Jim said, “I’m not much on managing a business,

what will we do about that.”
“We will supply an experienced accountant and office manager to
look after the business side. We can buy land and arrange for mining rights
when you have found and prove the deposits. We will sell the gold through
our established channels and deposit proceeds to a New Eldorado account
here in Hong Kong and in Manila. How does that sound?”
“Super,” Jim said, as his face broke out a broad grin. He raised his
brandy glass and proposed a toast to the new partnership, “Here’s to the
success of New Eldorado Mining and to your good health. I look forward to
a long and successful association.”
Later that night, Paul Li thought about his conversation with Casey
and Caleb Bingham. He knew the outlines of Casey’s background. Casey’s
father had been an Irish immigrant who went to San Francisco during gold
rush days in California. Somehow he never got as far as the gold fields but
instead set up a general merchandise business and freight company. He’d
been a real help to the Chinese doing business in San Francisco because he
didn’t discriminate against them. Treated his Chinese customers just like
everyone else, fair and square. The old ones remembered. Li knew that
because their sons and their son’s sons respected the Casey reputation. On
the other hand, he liked and respected, but didn’t quite trust Caleb
Bingham. Here was a man whose overweening ambition was perhaps the
most outstanding part of his personality. He was always in the thick of
politics maneuvering for his own advantage and that, in Li’s experience of

men, made him untrustworthy. He believed that men like Caleb Bingham
always loved power more than principle. What was the underlying reason
Caleb wanted intelligence on the situation in Asia? Was the United States
more interested in Asia than it appeared to be on the surface? America is
so unpredictable. Emotion seems to rule everything when they take action
it seems often without reason, or the reasons seem trivial. Had they really
taken the Philippines on a whim of one man in the Navy Department,
named Teddy Roosevelt, Never mind. He couldn’t answer the questions he
had just by continuing to speculate. He was sure that time would answer
most of them soon enough.
*. *. *
On his way back to Golden Dragon from his meeting with Paul Li,
Harry Kang walked to the Star Ferry Terminal, took a ferry to Hong Kong
Island, then stopped at the Central Post Office where he intended to post a
letter to Veronique in Saigon. Most of the letter had been finished on board
the ship on the way up from Indochina, but Harry stood at the customer
counter in the post office and added several pages in which he reported on
his meeting with Paul. Before sealing the envelope, he read quickly through
the whole letter. Not bad, he thought, she should get the message. He had
tried to communicate how much he cared for her and the seriousness of his
intentions. He was almost sure that she felt the same way about him. Then,
he stopped by a tobacconist’s shop on Queens Street to buy some cigars for
Otani-san and Skip Moran before getting back on the ferry for Kowloon.

On Golden Dragon he found Skip Moran and Otani-san eating their
lunch in the galley. “Did we get a note from the Boss about where to unload
this cargo,” Harry asked.
“Sure did,” Otani-san said, “He found space at this go-down so we
don’t have to move. The stevedore company should have a crew here in a
few minutes to unload.”
“That’s a break,” Harry said, “Paul suggested that we take the ship
over to the yard at Lantau and have the bottom cleaned and painted.”
“If we’re going to do that, let’s check out a few other things while
we’re there,” Skip Moran said, “It’s been a long time since the old girl has
had her thru-hulls checked.”
“No problem,” Harry said, “Just as long as the yard can do the work
and Otani-san keeps an eye on things. You and I are going to go down to
Macau for a few days.”
The Tai-Sheng shipyard on Lantau was the oldest shipyard in the
area. Some said it had been in existence since the 15th Century. When
Harry Kang arrived there ten years before, with the idea of building a
Chinese Junk style ship with modern engine and other technical
improvements the owner of the yard took Harry to his house where he
stored plans for ships that were as big as five hundred feet long. Harry
remembered culling through plan after plan before they found a design
that almost exactly fitted his idea. Timbers big enough to build the boat had
to be ordered from as far away as Thailand to the West, and the Oregon

Coast in the United States. The big diesel engine had come all the way from
Detroit straight from the General Motors engine factory. Skip Moran had a
hand in securing it when the US Navy canceled an order for a submarine
that the navy had plans to build but the Congress failed to fund. When
Golden Dragon arrived at the shipyard she was a welcome sight to all the
old hands that had helped craft her. The yard owners, an aged pair of white
haired “Old Ones,” came down to dockside to greet Harry, Skip and Otani-
san. “Good to see you,” they kept repeating. After sharing Chinese wine in
the yard office with the two old gentlemen, Harry and Skip left Otani-san
detailing the maintenance plan to the yard foreman, and caught a water
taxi back to the Hong Kong-Macau Ferry dock just in time for the 5 PM
boat to Macau. As they walked up the gangplank Harry reminded Skip not
to bump his head going into the ship. Skip’s burley six foot two inch frame
barely made it through the entryway. On their previous trip to Macau he’d
almost knocked himself out on the low overhead going into the ship.
“Damn this ship was made for little people,” Skip exclaimed as he
ducked inside, “I had a headache for a week the last time we rode on this
thing.”
“I guess you could walk on your knees,” Harry laughed. That way
you’d be only a little shorter than the tallest other passenger.”
“Never mind. What are we going to eat?”
“I don’t know about you but I’m going to have Dim Sum,” Harry said.
They were sitting at a table in the dining room drinking a beer as the

ferry left the dock and started the three-hour trip to Macau. When the ship
was out of the Harbor the waiter brought their order.
“No place like Hong Kong for Dim Sum,” Skip said helping himself to
a plate full of steaming pork buns, sticky rice in grape leaves, and several
other dishes he didn’t know the names of but liked on sight.
Harry watched him load up his plate with an amused expression on
his face. “You know Skip, when you retire, you can take some little Chinese
wife who knows how to make this stuff, go back to Seattle and open a
restaurant, It would be a good life for you.”
“Wiseacre, why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free and
live in Hong Kong where you can get all kinds of good food cheap. Besides
I’m probably going to be dead before I retire so why worry about it.
Speaking of which, what did Paul have to say about that little incident in
Saigon?”
“Hadn’t a clue. He seemed just as surprised as we were. He’s
thinking about it which means I guess that he’s got some idea of leads he
can follow up with his sources.”
“What’s next on our sailing schedule? Did you get any hint where we
might be going next.”
“It’s time to renew our contract with the Navy. He suggested we do it
in Manila if I can find Admiral Hart there. I haven’t any idea where he is
now but I figure I can find out by sending him a message through our
contact at the Embassy in Hong Kong. In any case, Paul wants us to go

down there because he’s closing a business deal in the Philippines. There’s
stuff he wants us to take down.”
“Did he say what kind of deal it is?”
“You know Paul. He’s still keeping it close to his chest. He’ll tell me
when he thinks it’s time for me to know. I’ve got a hunch it’s pretty
important because he clearly didn’t want me to go up to Shanghai to try
and find the Admiral there.”
“What are we going to Macau for?”
“Put our feet up for a few days. You’re supposed to put a bit of money
on the ponies, and I am supposed to see that you don’t get shanghaied or
knocked off by the thieves you loose your money to. The only other thing I
am supposed to do is try and keep alive myself.”
“Speaking of which, where are we going to stay, the Bella Vista?”
“Who’d stay there,” Paul laughed, “Maybe they’ve changed the beds
since the last time we were there. That way you can try to get the clap with
out making so much noise.”
The ferry arrived in Macau later than scheduled. The waiting
Rickshaws were a bit thinned out by defectors grown tired of the wait, so it
took a few minutes longer to catch a ride than expected. They arrived at
the Bella Vista Hotel to find a party going on in the Bar where Henri, the
Belgian proprietor of the place, was ensconced dispensing drinks with a
dour face that belied the twinkle in his eyes. The dour look was occasioned
by an attack of Bell’s palsy that left the left side of his facial muscles

paralyzed years before. When he saw Harry and Skip he came out from
behind the bar and greeted them with a hearty slap across the back
accompanied by a hug. “Mon Ami, what a surprise,” Henri said, “Oh but, I
am sorry we have just rented our last rooms to two young ladies with very
large asses and big tits. But you can share with them. Ha, Ha, Ha!”
“You old scoundrel,” Harry said, “I’ll bet half the rooms in this place
are empty.”
“No. No. Only half are full,” Henri beamed, “Welcome.”
Harry and Skip stayed in the Bella Vista when they first got to the
China Coast years before. At the time they were fresh off a rusting tramp
freighter that had outlived it’s usefulness and was sold in Hong Kong for
scrap. The two men looking for something to do so Henri fixed them up
with a job running a lighter up the Pearl River to Canton and beyond. The
cargoes they carried were not always legitimate since Macao was a port
where a little bribe money to the underpaid Portuguese official went a long
way. Late one night as they were coming down river after delivering a load
of crates that looked suspiciously like containers for weapons, they picked
up a crusty old Chinese sea captain who was drifting down river in a leaky
boat. The man had a terrible wound on one arm and he was suffering
considerable pain. As it turned out, river pirates had attacked the Junk the
Captain was taking up river, and all hands but the Captain were killed in a
gun battle. The old man had been wounded but got away by diving in the
water. He found the abandon small boat on the riverbank, later that same

night. Fearing the pirates would hunt him down, he had drifted down on
the tide until Harry and Skip found him. Skip patched the man up, and
when they got back to Macao they took him to a doctor. Later that night,
after paying for the doctor, Harry found a room and paid for a week’s stay
for the old gentleman. They were surprised a few nights later when the
man showed up at the Bella Vista with Paul Li his ship’s owner. It was a
fortuitous meeting. There was an instant rapport between Paul and the two
Americans. Even more, they shared a common purpose. Paul needed ships
for his growing business and liked what he heard of Harry and Skip’s ideas.
Within a few days, they went to Tai-Sheng Shipyard to see the plans that
Harry was planning to use as the basis for Golden Dragon. When the ship
was completed and more like her were built, Paul Li gave Harry and Skip
ownership shares in each of the boats. As a result they were now
comfortably well off with healthy accounts in Hong Kong Shanghai Bank.
Every New Year, they each gave generous gifts to the Hong Kong Seamen’s
home for retired sailors, and when they had the time they visited the home
to talk to the old codgers that lived there.
Harry and Skip sat at a table just off the end of the Bar watching the
partygoers until quite late. Finally when the party began to breakup, Henri
introduced his friend buxom friend Marie to Skip.
“Marie tres jollie, Skip, Henri said, “Be careful of this man, Marie, he
is known to break hearts like no other man in all of Asia.”
While Harry and Henri argued politics, Skip and Marie talked awhile,

and then left for Skip’s room. When they disappeared out the door Harry
said, “I hope this one’s clean, Henri. The last girl you fixed Skip up with
gave him a case of clap that nearly killed him.”
“She is clean like my sister,” Henri said, making the sign of the cross,
“May my sister rest in peace.”
“You old bastard, you’d lie to God’s face,” Harry said.
“If you are not prepared to lie to God,” Henri said trying to look
serious, “You should not lie at all.”
That night when Harry got into to bed, he could hear Skip and Marie
talking through the wall next to the bed. He got up and pulled the bed well
away from the wall so as not to be disturbed. Soon after he fell fast asleep.
The following morning Harry awoke at 9 AM. He washed and shaved
and went out on the verandah of the Hotel overlooking the sea. He settled
down at his favorite table and ordered a breakfast of Portuguese sausage
and scrambled eggs from the waiter. He was eating when Skip showed up.
“How was your night big boy?”
“Good,” Skip yawned, “Marie’s a nice lady. At least she doesn’t talk
too much, and she appreciated every little thing I gave her. I hope we didn’t
keep you awake. I expect she’ll be here shortly. She was just waking up
when I left the room.”
“I heard every word, “ Harry said, “You should be ashamed of
yourself. All those lies you told her.”
“The weird thing is,” Skip said, “She’s some sort of cousin to Henri.”

Harry grinned, “One of the great wonders of the world You old fart,
why would anyone introduce you to his girl cousin?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. All I know is that it feels good to have some time
away from Golden Dragon. I love that boat, but I sure am enjoying being
away for a while.”
“That’s the whole point of the trip down here, Skip. It’s looking like
we might be pretty busy in the future. Before long we may be in shit up to
our elbows.”
That afternoon Harry elected to take it easy at the hotel while Marie
and Skip went to the racetrack. After they left he lay back in a lounge chair
in the shade, and contemplated the scene below. Sampans covered the
water as far as the eye could see, and Harry concluded that a run of small
fish must be on because everyone was dip netting with large butterfly
shaped nets. Before long, he was asleep.
In his office in Kowloon, Paul Li leaned over his desk. An ink stone
and small water pot sat to the side of a paper that commanded his
attention. His writing brush was barely moving as he wrote modest sized
characters. Paul was composing a letter to his manager in Manila
concerning the Casey business and the possibility that his nephews might
be going there.
‘I do not want,’ he wrote, ‘any special treatment for Li Song and Li
Mee-Koh. They will be working for Mr. Casey and they are to take his
directions. Later, when they more experienced and you are satisfied that

they understand the American way of working, we will change things but
until that time they will be responsible to Mr. Casey. Please let me know if
things do not work out so that I can make changes in the situation.’
He finished the letter with a few more lines about business in
general, then marked it with his personal chop placed carefully along side
the company seal.
He started another letter. It was addressed to his brother’s eldest
son on Hainan.
‘It is my intention to employ your younger brothers on a mission of
great importance to my branch of the family. I will include them in my
family register and you may remove them from yours. It is unlikely they
will ever return to Hainan in the future. By this action I will take and
accept full responsibility for them, consequently you should end all
attempts to take any action against them. The honor of your family has
been restored by my action. Thank you for agreeing to my request
concerning the woman. I have made arrangements for her, and she will not
ever return to Hainan.’
Signing off with the usual salutations he again took his chop in hand,
inked it in red and put his personal stamp on the second letter. Placing the
letters in separate folders, he tied the string on three sides, led the loops to
a point at the center, and sealed the strings to the cases under a waxen
seal.
Finished, he washed his brush and put his ink stone, water pot, and

put all the instruments away in a tall rosewood cabinet behind his desk.
Then he called for hot water and his tea implements. Opening a small
lacquer tea chest incised with geometric patterns that looked like ocean
waves he measured out a small pile of dark green leaves and placed them
carefully at the bottom of a porcelain teapot. It was a ritual he had
practiced for many years making and enjoying tea from the choicest
leaves. His mind was slowly shutting out all thought. As he waited for the
tea to steep he could feel a kind of golden glow spread over his body. His
hands folded in repose he waited for the aroma to waft up from the pot.
Completely at ease he poured the light brown liquid into to a heated cup
with a graceful silver rim and placed a lid over the top. He waited for the
blush of heat to subside. It was an unconscious measurement of time and
his inner control was so complete that without thought he raised the cup to
his lips to taste a perfectly made drink.
Deep in enjoyment of the ritual and the taste of the tea Paul Li’s
spirit restored itself. The responsibilities of his position, business worries,
and stress all seemed below and behind him. Given the right conditions he
could meditate like this for several hours, with eyes closed, sitting
motionless. An hour passed, and then Paul slowly opened his desk drawer,
took out a western style fountain pen and put it to paper. He composed a
radio telegram to Captain Harry Kang at the Bella Vista
‘REGARDING INCIDENT SAIGON STOP NO INFO AVAILABLE HERE

STOP WILL PROVIDE DETAILS YR RETURN STOP YR INVITED PARTY AT
HK CLUB THUR NIGHT STOP REGARDS PAUL LI.’
While he blotted the ink on the message, he called his assistant to
take it to the Hong Kong Cable and Wireless office for dispatch to Macao.
*. *. *
Caleb Bingham, sitting in the half-light of his shuttered hotel room,
was nursing a bad headache trying to remember what had happened the
night before. He had taken Jim Casey to his favorite Kowloon bordello for a
night of sexual adventure. When he’d called the place for reservations
before going there, the madam suggested that she supply two White
Russian girls for a “special price.” He knew them both quite well from his
previous visits so he quickly struck a bargain because they were willing to
do anything clients were willing to pay for. Jim Casey went along somewhat
reluctantly. After they had had a considerable amount to drink he joined in
the escapade. Alexandra, the prettier of the two women seemed to take a
liking to Jim, so Caleb concentrated on getting Sophia, a statuesque
brunette with large breasts, turned on to his idea of sex. By midnight they
were in bed where Caleb tied Sophia to the bedposts and then started
pinching her tits until she cried out in pain. Her cries aroused him, and he
remembered untying her hands before beginning a round of excited sex.
They’d smoked opium after repeated coupling, and the rest of the night
was pretty much a blank. He had no idea how he’d gotten back to his room.

Then, there was a knock on the door and he got out of bed to answer it. A
room boy was standing there with coffee, poached eggs and toast. “Your
breakfast Sir, and a message from the front desk.”
Caleb signed the check, gave the room boy a tip and then opened a
message from Jim suggesting they meet later in the afternoon. He called
Jim’s room and they agreed to meet for English tea and scones at 5 PM.
At 4:30 Caleb went down to the bar for a stiff drink to try and clear
his head before he saw Jim. As he crossed the lobby he saw a sign with his
name on it being carried about by the bellboy. He approached the sign
carrier and identified himself. “Right Sir, there’s a message for you at the
front desk.”
It was an invitation from Paul Li to a dinner party at the Hong Kong
Business Club the following evening. Good show, he thought as he headed
into the bar, I could use some more entertainment, and I certainly could
use more time to find out what else Paul Li knows. He was nursing a second
drink when Jim Casey tapped him on the arm. “There you are, I was just on
my way into the dinning room when I saw you,” Jim said, “How are you
feeling? You were pretty much out when we left Madam Sin’s place last
night.”
“Feeling a bit rum, old man,” Caleb said in a mock English accent,
“How did you get on last night.”
“I don’t know if I should be talking about this, but have you ever done
the bells of Saint Agnes?”

“You mean that trick when she stuffs that string of glass beads up
your bum and then pulls it out just as you get it off,” Caleb said, “Great
stuff, isn’t it.”
“All I know is that I’ve never done anything like that before, “Jim
said, “I’m afraid I might get to like it too much.”
“A little perversion is a dangerous thing. I’ve gone from being a strait
laced Boston Boy to a positive sex maniac. You might descend into the
depths along side me if you keep this up.”
Jim laughed. “I could never descend that far. Not enough time. Not to
change the subject, but did you get an invitation to Paul’s party Tomorrow
night?”
“Right Oh! It’s just the thing to round out a couple of nights on the
town. Paul’s parties are always interesting, and if you like oriental girls,
the company is pretty stimulating. You might meet Paul’s partner, Madame
Chen, in the Club at dinner. We can go there together if you like. Sign my
chit for me, will you, I’ve got to go to the men’s and drain the lizard.”
High tea at the Peninsula was popular with the locals. In spite of
having made a reservation their table was not in an impressive location.
Caleb Bingham liked to be in the center of the main area where he could
look over the ladies and their friends. He complained to the waiter and was
told that most of the people had reservations months in advance and he
would just have to get in line if he wanted a better spot. The tea service was
impressive. The scones and other assorted sweets arrived on a three-level

silver server along with Wedgwood plates, cups and saucers. As he spooned
fresh cream into his cup, Jim Casey looked around and said, “This place is
pretty upper crust, isn’t it.”
“Not really, it’s just the arrivistes trying to act like old money,” Caleb
said, “But, that’s why I like it so much. Look at that pretentious little thing
over there. I’ll bet she gives her old man a good roll in the hay.”
Jim looked in the direction Caleb was nodding and located a
curvaceous little woman in animated discussion with her companion, an
older man with white hair and a goatee. “I wonder if that is her old man.”
“Probably just her patron,” Caleb said, “Her old man is toiling away
in some stuffy office someplace. It really is the way of the world you know.”
“You’ve never married,” Jim asked.
““Look, old man, I have my blind spots but marriage certainly isn’t
one of them. I’d be so bored in a permanent relationship I’d be tempted to
knock the old dear off in a month,” Caleb said, “Besides, my preferences in
a sexual partner are a bit below my station, know what I mean.”
“What I know about that wouldn’t fill the toe of my boot,” Jim said, “I
had 5 minutes alone with the girl who became my wife and her old man and
brothers practically leveled a shotgun at me. Fortunately she was a perfect
partner. I never had a bad day with her. Now I’ve got a great son to remind
me how wonderful it was. Last night was the first time I’ve ever had sex
with anyone but my wife.”

Caleb looked at Jim in amazement, “Good Lord,” he said, “If I’d have
known that I wouldn’t have taken you to Madam Sin’s place.”
“Never mind, it was bound to happen sometime.”

Chapter 6
Macao & Hong Kong
As night fell over the hotel, Harry and Skip were hunched over a
drawing that Harry had started that afternoon following his snooze. “I
figure with things heating up we should increase our firepower on Golden
Dragon,” Harry said, “I figure we can reinforce the mid-deck area in these
four places fore and aft and mount two fifty-caliber machine guns on each
side for a total of four.”
“That would certainly give any pirate or a patrol boat something to
think about before they try boarding us,” Skip said, “Of course it would be
nice to have a 20mm canon for the bigger boys.”
“I thought about that. Unfortunately the only place I can think that
we could get one, plus the ammunition, would be the US Navy.”
“Why don’t you try to get one as part of the new contract? I imagine
a spare can be gotten up at Cavite naval station don’t you think so?”
“We can always try. By the way, I got a radiogram from Paul. He says
that there’s no information available in Hong Kong. I guess the knife man
might have been after me. I wonder why.”
“That’s not good. I spent the whole afternoon at the horse track
yesterday thinking that you might get in trouble when you’re out of my
sight. By the way Marie won big on the last race thanks to a tip from me.
She’s really happy, wants to take us to the casino tonight.”
“That would be nice but I think I’ll stay here. I want to write a note to

Veronique about the incident, and I’d like to do some detail drawing on this
idea so when we go back to Lantau we can get the work done efficiently.”
Harry was still at work when Skip and Marie returned from their
night out at Sinaloa Casino, and knocked on the door of his room. “Come in
you two. By the smiles on your faces I can see that you must have won
some money.”
“Oh, Captain Kang, I am so happy. Skip brings me luck. First I win at
horses, now I am win from Casino. Very good time,” Marie exclaimed.
“I didn’t do so bad myself, Harry. I won a nut on the crap table and
then played Chemin de fer. I was betting against some high rollers from
Hong Kong. Must have been my lucky night because I sure did score. How’s
the drawing going?”
“All, done,” Harry said, “I was just checking over the drawings before
turning in. You can take a look in the morning. See if I missed anything. I’m
thinking to go back tomorrow on the noon boat. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me. What time do you want to get together in the
morning?
“First one up pounds on the other one’s door,” Harry said.
Harry had a restless night. Shortly after midnight he put on a robe
and went down to the front desk and asked for bottle of brandy. He took it
back to his room and drank the better part of a water glass of the dark
brown VSOP. He relaxed in his padded wicker chair and looked out over the
view of the South China Sea. Fishing boats with lanterns on their bow and

sterns gently motored back and forth as they jigged for octopus in the
warm waters. A luminescent moon had risen over the horizon and
reflected off the water as it climbed higher in the sky. As he relaxed Harry
realized that he was overtired. He had not had a free day in months and
the stress of the job was beginning to wear on him. He felt himself falling
asleep so he lay down on the bed and dozed off. Harry slept a dreamless
sleep and woke up at 7 AM when the room boy knocked on the door.
“Good morning. Coffee and a roll for you Sir.”
“Thank you, leave it on the table on the veranda. Oh, and please leave
a menu.”
Harry slowly got out of bed and went into the bathroom and looked
in the mirror. Damn, I look like shit he thought. He stepped into the shower
and slowly woke up. Toweling himself off he realized that he was really
hungry. The coffee was in a thermos freshly made and hot.

He looked over the menu as he drank and decided to order orange
juice, eggs scrambled easy with ham and croissant.
The Sun burst over the horizon in the distance and the night fisher
folk had gone home to be replaced with smaller sampans fishing with
butterfly Chinese nets off the stern suspended with two flexible bamboo
poles. It was a comforting scene Harry had witnessed many times before.
He shut his eyes momentarily in the glare of the Sun off the water.
Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his left arm and a loud shout EEE-Yah! He
looked down at his left arm and a stiletto was sticking through his upper
arm and blood was running down his side. The pain was intense and he
looked up to see a slender man in black cotton trousers disappearing
around the corner of the veranda. The room boy came running up with
another pot of coffee. He took one look and ran down to the front desk to
get help.
Henri hurried up. “Mon-dieu Captain Kang. You are bleeding badly.”
“Get Mr. Moran. Hurry and call an ambulance.” Harry said through
clenched teeth.
Shock was setting in and Harry was rigid and rapidly weakening.
Skip came running.

“Jesus, Harry what the hell happened.” He took one look and lifted
Harry up and started down the veranda for the street. Henri was standing
in front next to the hotel limousine.
“Mr. Skip, there is no ambulance available. Put Captain Kang in our
car and I will have Marie show you the way to the hospital it’s just down
the hill along the river to the right opposite the ship loading facility. It’s the
Macao government hospital and the doctors there are very good. Don’t
worry.”
When they reached the emergency entrance Harry was quickly
moved into surgery and Skip and Marie waited. Skip suddenly realized
that who ever was trying to kill Harry might try again. He asked to use the
phone and called the shipyard and talked with Otani-san.
“Some one tried to kill Harry. I’m afraid they may try again. Come
down here as soon as you can get here on the ferry. Bring two 45
automatics and we’ll keep watch around the clock.”
“Okay, the ferry leaves every hour. I’ll get there as soon as I can. How
is he doing?
“We don’t know yet. He’s still in surgery. We’re in the Macao
government hospital down opposite the commercial wharf on the Pearl
River. Just take a taxi. It’s not far.”
“I remember the wharf from the time we took a cargo up the river to
Canton.”
“Just get here. I am worried as hell.”

Marie was standing looking down the hall when Skip walked rapidly
back to the waiting room.
“Skip the doctor just came out and said he wanted to talk to you then
he went back inside.”
“Did he have anything to say?”
“No, after all I am just a woman.”
Skip went to the nurse’s station and asked to see the surgeon.
A nurse in a white uniform and cap said, “And your name?”
“Skip Moran. I am an officer on the ship commanded by the man in
surgery Captain Harry Kang”.
Skip and Marie waited nearly half an hour before a doctor came out
to talk to them. “Your Captain is very lucky. The blade went through his
upper arm muscle but a rib deflected it. The wound is very painful but I
think he will heal quickly.
“Will he have the use of his arm?
“He is in the hands of God now. If there is no infection he will be okay.
All we can do now is wait and see. But I am optimistic.”
“Somebody has been trying to kill him Doctor. Our First Mate is
coming down to help me guard him.”
“We will tell the people in the front to keep his name a secret. That
way it will be difficult to find him. And of course you can guard his room.
Access to the hospital is restricted after dark. We lock the gate at 5 PM.
“Marie, call Henri at the hotel and tell him to send someone to pick

up the car. You can go back to the hotel.”
“No, I will stay with you.”
“There is no comfortable place to stay here. You haven’t had much
sleep. Come back tomorrow during visitor hours. Tell Henri not to worry. I
am sure Harry will recover. It may take time but he will recover.”
Marie was crying. Skip comforted her and walked her down to the
public phone at the entrance.
Skip sat in a chair outside Harry’s room. He was very tired and kept
dozing off only to wake with a start a few minutes later.

It was going to be a long wait. On Lantau Island Otani-san called Paul
Li and told him the bad news.
“Skip’s optimistic that Harry will recover and be okay. I am going
down there on next ferry to help him guard Harry’s room.”
“This is terrible news. Why don’t you wait there and I’ll send a water
taxi to pick you up and take you to Macao. By the time your get to the ferry
on the island you may be too late to catch the last one.”
By the time the water taxi arrived at Lantau it was already late. It
took almost two hours to get to Macao. When they got there Otani-san had
to call for a taxi to the hospital. When they approached the harbor he could
see two Japanese tankers tied up to the dock where they were taking on
bunker fuel. He went to the hospital gate and when he got there it was
locked. He walked back to the street and saw a water front bar down the
street with a neon sign in Portuguese, English and Japanese. He decided to
go there, have a drink and call the hospital. He stepped in and it was a few
seconds before his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He walked over to the bar
and sat down on an empty stool.

He ordered Sapporo beer and paid the bartender. The man to his
right turned and said in Japanese. “Nihonjin des ka?’ Are you Japanese?
“Hai, so desu.”
“Do you speak English?”
“Yes. I have to I am 1st Mate on a ship that sails to foreign ports.”
“Good I am Captain Wakatsuki. We are waiting for our ship to take on
a full load of fuel. We are in the Japanese Navy and we carry fuel to the
ships of the Navy in places as far away as the Bay of Bengal.”
“Watashi wa Otani desu. Hajimemashita.”
“Let’s talk English Otani-san. I studied English in the United States
in 1930 and I am afraid I am loosing it.”
“Okay, where are you from?”
“Hokkaido, in the far north. My wife and kids are there but I haven’t
been back there for four years. How about you?”
Otani decided to dissemble. “I haven’t been home to Tokyo for almost
as long. I see my brother in Shanghai occasionally. He’s a diplomat in the
Foreign Office.”

“So des, life at sea is difficult. I am a Captain but I am like the lowest
person in the Navy. All we do is load fuel and carry it to the ships of the
fleet. The way I feel now I may never see home again. That’s why I come
here to drink. At least they have Japanese beer.”
Otani realized that Wakatsuki was pretty drunk. He decided to
question him and find out where he was headed. “So you’re sailing to night.
Where are you headed?
Wakatsuki leaned over and whispered in Otani’s ear. “It’s a secret but
I will tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else.”
“Yes, I understand. Of course I won’t say anything.”
“We’re going to Haiphong in Indo-China. The fleet is waiting there for
fuel so they can sail to a place near Bangkok. Japan is going to invade
there and my guess is the target is Singapore. There is nothing else there of
any value.”
Otani tried to look surprised. He slipped into Japanese and said,
“Honto, is that so. I am surprised. They say Singapore is very well
defended.”
“Yes, but the defense guns are pointed to the sea because the stupid
British think that any one who wants Singapore will invade from the South
China Sea.”
“I see what you mean. I never thought of that before. I am only a
commercial officer. I don’t know anything about military strategy or
tactics.”

“You are much better off than being in Navy. At least you have some
hope of going back to Tokyo some day.”
Otani looked at his watch. I am sorry I’ve got to phone the hospital.
My friend is in there and I want to get them to open the gate so I can visit
him. Sayonara and good luck.”
“Let’s exchange cards before you go. We may be able to get together
in Japan after the war if I live long enough.”
When Otani-san finally got into the hospital he walked along the
corridor to the chair in the hall outside Harry’s room. Skip was sound
asleep.
“Some guard you are Skip. Wake up and go back to the hotel you look
dragged out.”
“Jesus Christ, Otani you scared the shit out of me. Did you remember
to bring the 45’s?”

Otani pointed to the bag he was carrying. “Here let me give you one.
Stick it under your shirt so you don’t scare the hospital folks. You might
need it later at the hotel if all of us are potential targets.”
As Skip staggered out Otani sat down in the chair and started
thinking about his conversation with Captain Wakatsuki. Damn, he
thought, that poor guy may not live through a war or ever see home again.
But here’s solid confirmation about what the Japanese plans are. Maybe
when Harry wakes up in the morning I can give him some encouragement
with this piece of news.
The next morning the surgeon and two young doctors making their
rounds nodded at Otani as they went into Harry’s room. A few minutes
later Skip and Marie came walking down the hall.
“Any news yet,” Skip asked, “No sign of any danger at the hotel last
night or this morning. My guess is that who ever is behind this thinks
Harry’s dead.”
“The doctors just went in. I think they are making their morning
rounds. They should be coming out soon.”
Five minutes later the doctors came out and the surgeon approached
them.

“That friend of yours is one tough customer. He’s sitting up in bed
asking when he can get out of the hospital. I explained the danger of
infection setting in and he said he was a fast healer and for me not to
worry.”
“That’s Captain Kang for you. He’s the best there is. Always
optimistic and sure things will get better, “Skip said, “We’ll tell him we
aren’t going to let him leave here until we are 100% sure that he’s going to
be okay.”
“Just impress on him that these first days are the most critical,” the
Doctor said, “And he’s going to have to work slowly to get that arm working
again. The knife went between his bone and the muscle. It’s going to be
very painful and hard to use for some time. Patience is required or he could
wind up with a gimpy arm. I told the nurse to let you see him when she
finishes making sure there isn’t any signs of infection and bandages him
back up.”
Harry was sitting up with his arm elevated when they went in.
“What are you people doing here,” Harry said, “I’m doing fine and it’s early.
You should all be in bed.”
“Captain Harry,” Marie said, “We are all so worried about you none of
us could sleep last night.”

“Yeah, Otani-san sat up all night just outside your door with a loaded
gun just to be sure someone didn’t come in and finish the job. Security in
these hospitals isn’t all that good.”
Harry grinned. “We’ll all I can say it’s nice to be loved, I am ready to
get out of here and go back to work.”
“The hell you say,” Skip said, “We’re not letting you get out of here
until we’re 100% sure that you are going to be alright.”
Yes, Otani said, “The Doctor say’s there’s a danger of infection and he
wants us to keep you bed and not get you on your feet before we know that
you are safe to go. Besides we have a lot of work still to do on the boat. I
talked to Paul yesterday before I came down. He said he’d be here later
today.”
Paul Li arrived at the Buena Vista just after noon. He checked in and
asked Henri how Harry was.
“He’s in hospital. All is okay. You can visit anytime. Mr. Skip is there
and Mr. Otani is sleeping. He was on guard all night at the hospital. My
sister Marie came back a few minutes before you came, and said the
Captain is wanting to leave the hospital but the doctor say no.”
“That’s Harry Kang all right. He thinks he can do anything. I am
going to take a bath and then go to the hospital.”
When Paul went down to the lobby Otani-san was waiting for him. “I
thought you were sleeping,” Paul said, “What are you doing up?”
“It was very quiet last night. The hospital was all locked up and I

took short catnaps all night. There is something I want to tell you, Harry
and Skip about when we get to the hospital”
When they were assembled in Harry’s room and the door was closed.
Otani told them about his conversation with Captain Wakatsuki.
“Well that confirms our notion that Japan intends to use Hainan and
probably Saigon as a staging area for operations in South East Asia,” Paul
said, “What do you think Harry?”
“It seems pretty obvious to me. This Captain Wakatsuki must
have been involved in the attack on China. And now the Japanese are
getting ready to make war all over the place.”
Hong Kong
The Business Hotel of Hong Kong fronted on a side street off
Salisbury Road in Kowloon. It presented it’s sober front for all to see a
clean, service oriented establishment for business travelers. The lobby was
spacious and well lighted and the furnishings best described as good but
not so good as to warrant more than a reasonable room rate. It was a
popular place for meeting clients and it ran an efficient service supplying
young women for it’s mostly male clients. The rules: No questions asked,
and no trouble. It was especially important to have no trouble. The hotel
was in fact, a front. Its limited supply of rooms for rent was belied by the
generous size of the building it occupied. The reason was quite simple; the
building was divided unequally. The way in to the larger part was through a
wide set of doors on the hotel mezzanine marked “Gentleman’s Private

Club” which was engraved on a set of generously large brass signs on either
side of the entrance.
Those who visited on a regular basis knew the Gentleman’s Private
Club as “Madam Chen’s.” A select few actually lived in a row of small
apartments that looked out over a small garden situated at the rear of the
building. For the most part the space was devoted to two intimate lounges
each with a small stage and orchestra stand and, the rooms that served the
clients for the numerous sexual encounters that employed the ladies who
occupied the building.
Madam Chen lived in the penthouse. The penthouse and it’s
furnishings were the gift of Madam Chen’s partner, Paul Li, who, during it’s
construction and decoration, was closely involved in supervising
everything down to the finest detail. It was the nicest gift Madam Chen had
ever received, and she had spent some of the happiest time in her life
there, she thought, as she lay settled deep in a covering layer of hot water
and bath salts bubbles. Her bath was the beginning ritual of her day that
began late most afternoons. After working all night in the club she held a
brief meeting with her employees, settled any disputes, and carefully
gathered any bits of gossip and information that the girls had collected
during their shift. Then, she supervised the counting of the business
receipts, placing her chop on the report that went by courier to her
partner’s office. Most days she exercised a bit after finishing work, and
then went to sleep. For the past week she had not been adhering to her

much-treasured schedule because she was entertaining a guest.
“Lili,” She called. “Please bring me a robe. Would you mind?”
“Yes, Auntie. Of course I don’t mind.” Her niece answered. “Which
one do you want?”
“Oh, any one will do. You chose.” Madam Chen said brushing up the
damp hair at the back of her head. “Would you like to take a bath? The
water is still hot. Why don’t you join me?”
Chen Lili entered the bathroom clad in a silk sleeping gown. She
bowed to her Aunt, and held out a blue silk robe. “Is this okay,” She asked.
“It’s really pretty I think.”
Her Aunt nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s really my favorite. Join me
Lili, come get in.”
Lili disrobed and stepped into the bath. “Oh, it’s so warm. It’s lovely.”
She said as she leaned back in the hot water.
Madam Chen was an expert on women’s beauty. She often joked that
she was by the nature of her business profession a trained judge of beauty.
She gazed at her niece across the bath. Her niece was above average height
for a Chinese. Lili’s body was as near to perfectly proportioned as it could
possibly be. Her legs were long, straight and slim. Her breasts were not
large but they were perfectly shaped. Madam Chen appraised her body
dispassionately and concluded that in all her days she had only seen one
other that could rival it. Her own beauty was famous on the China Coast
and her body at its prime had been her niece’s equal but, never mind she

thought, it is Lili’s face that is so remarkable. She has the inner glow of
youth, Madam Chen thought, It makes her skin so lovely. Her smile is
radiant. And the eyes, they are dark limpid pools of female compassion and
wisdom.
“Lili, tonight Mr. Li and his guests from the United States will be
coming here. If you are agreeable, Uncle Li and I would like you to join in a
small party. You knew that of course, but I also want you to know that Li
Song and Mee-Koh, Uncle Li’s nephews will be coming. If this is troubling to
you its all right if you stay here in the apartment tonight instead.”
Lili’s face broke out into a broad smile as she laughed and she said,
“Oh that’s wonderful. Of course I am very happy. They are such wonderful
friends. They helped me very much after their father died on Hainan. I
don’t know what I would have done without them. This will give me a
chance to thank them.”
Madam Chen, visibly relaxing, responded, “That’s wonderful. We can
make it a really nice time for everyone. Turn around and let me wash your
back.” When Lili was finished, they dressed and went to the living room.
Madam Chen picked up a folder and said, “Let’s look over the chefs menu
for tonight and then call him up from the kitchen to ask him to make some
of our favorites for the party.”
James Casey and his son Robert were reunited in Hong Kong after
the young man’s long voyage from San Francisco. Father and son worked
hard in the two days after the ship docked. With the contacts and credit

Paul Li arranged they bought prospecting and mining supplies and had
accumulated a ton or more of tools, assay equipment, dynamite, and all but
a few of the other things on their list. Paul Li recommended that they
purchase side arms and a small stock of rifles and ammunition in Hong
Kong. More could be gotten latter he advised but it was better to be
prepared than taken advantage of by anyone who wanted to pilfer their
supplies. They chose Colt .45’s as their basic side arm even though they
were very expensive. It was a basic U.S. Army issue weapon and James
Casey felt they could get ammunition in Manila if they had need of more
than they were taking with them.
Robert was cleaning his 45 automatic in their room. He looked at his
father and said, “This thing’s pretty heavy don’t you think. I’m going to
have to get some braces to hold up my trousers when I wear it.”
Jim grimaced as he rubbed gun oil off his hands with a rag, “Yeah, I
don’t really like guns but I guess they’ll be useful where we are going. Look
we better put these things away and get ready for the party. We don’t want
to be late.” The two Casey’s were in high spirits as they bathed and changed
clothes for their evening at the Gentleman’s Club. They knew little about
the place but assumed that it would be a highlight of their time in Hong
Kong a night they probably wouldn’t-forget.
Earlier that same afternoon, Li Song and Mee-Koh were busy at
quayside checking cargo being loaded into Golden Dragon. The ship had
returned the night before from its hurried refit at the shipyard at Lantau

Island. It was now a fully armed junk that was to be their ride to the
Philippines. Gold had been loaded in the dead of night into tightly packed
spaces below the main cargo deck below the waterline. Then the bulk of the
regular cargo was loaded on top. There were all kinds of trade goods from
China to be counted, and then loaded carefully aboard. They found, tea
packed in tin boxes, dried aromatic flower petals in porcelain jars nested in
camphor wood boxes, bolts of silk that were double wrapped in gutta-
percha and sealed with wax against the damp sea air.
By noon the two men were tired from a long night and morning’s
work. A porter from Uncle Li’s house arrived with a shoulder board slung
with their lunch. Hot steaming noodles and sticky rice wrapped in lotus
leaves. They ate lunch up forward in the shade of the gun deck between two
Maxim heavy machine guns. There were racks of long poles with tri-
pointed barbed ends for fending off attacking ships at close range. Oerlikon
Rifles were locked in cabinets in the forecastle ready at hand for the crew
who bunked there. More were stacked under seats lining the main cabin
salon.
“What do you think Uncle is doing? I mean he can’t really be serious
about moving to Manila can he?” Li Song said with a perplexed look on his
face.
“I don’t know.” Mee-Koh said. “You know that he is always looking
ahead and planning for the unexpected. All he’s ever said was, “Better safe
than sorry”. Like this ship, it looks pretty safe to me. Just look at those

guns,” he said nodding his head in the direction of the machineguns.
“But, why us? He’s sending us both down there and hasn’t said
anything about it, no explanation. He just seems to think we can get the
whole idea by guessing.”
Mee-Koh grinned and said, “Well, he always said you were smart and
quick to figure things out. It’s probably to get us out of the way of Elder
Brother wouldn’t you guess. If we’re gone for awhile he’ll probably cool off
and then we can safely come back to Hong Kong.”
Li Song nodded in agreement. “Yes, that’s probably it. Let’s go to
Madam Chen’s tonight and see if she says anything. She always seems to
know what Uncle is thinking. The Casey’s will be there and we can show
them a little fun.”
“Good idea.” Mee-Koh said. He thought of his last visit to Madam
Chen’s and he flushed with anticipation. It was the best high-class bordello
and entertainment spot in Kowloon. Besides, he and Li Song liked Madam
Chen because she was always glad to see them. She called them, “My
Favorites of favorites. My best boys.” Thoughts of her instantly put him in a
good humor.
“Give me your bowl. I’ll put these pots back in the galley and we can
pick them up later and take them home.” Li Song stood up and stretched.
“Aye Ya! I’m tired, how about you? Let’s finish up and get a bath before we
go out tonight.”
Mee-Koh nodded and said, “I’ll check with the quartermaster I think

everything that’s coming today should be here by now. We can take the
shipping records back to the office if everything’s here.”
When they returned home, Paul Li asked them to come into his office
for a talk. “It is time we talked,” he said, “First, I want you to know that I
have settled things with your Elder Brother. Li Song, you offended him
greatly. This is a very serious matter. I made him a proposal and Li Peng
has reconsidered. He will drop your names from the family record in
Hainan. And I will enter both of you in my family record here in Hong
Kong. If you agree to this, you will never need to go back to Hainan. I hope
you will agree that it is for the best.”
Both boys nodded in agreement. Then Paul said, “Next, I want to
thank you for your work loading the ship. Captain Kang has told me that
you have both worked hard. Coming from him that is meaningful praise.”
“Does this mean our trouble with Elder Brother is over,” Li Song
asked.
Yes, but only if you agree to the changes in your family registration,”
Paul said.
“I agree,” Mee-Koh said, “I am ready to start a new life.”
“That’s good,” Li Song said, “I did not intend to cause so much
trouble.”
“Sometimes it is difficult to decide what is right,” Paul said, “I know
that you meant well. Unfortunately Chinese custom in a place like Hainan
is not like it would be in a more modern place. I hope you have both learned

the lesson to be taken from this experience. You must always consider the
consequences of anything you say or do.”
“I understand,” Li Song said, “We are wondering about the
Philippines Uncle, could you talk to us about it.”
“Later,” Paul said looking at the clock, “It is time to get ready to go to
the party. Get cleaned up and dress for dinner. We will go together in an
hour.”
Arriving at a rear door of the Hong Kong Business Hotel, Paul Li,
Mee-Koh, and Li Song alighted from their Rickshaws and slipped inside.
The way up was on a circular staircase that by passed the main floor of the
club. They emerged into a dimly light small room with velvet settees and
small drink tables. Paul Li called for an attendant and a slim young girl
dressed in silk came to take their order.
“Would you tell Madam Chen we have arrived,” said Paul Li. “What
would you like to drink?” he asked his nephews.
“I’d like Mao Tai,” said Mee-Koh, ordering Chinese wine.
Li Song hesitated a moment and said, “I’d like to try western wine,
Uncle. Is that okay?”
Paul Li nodded and gave the girl an order in a low voice they couldn’t
hear. Pointing to the lounge, Uncle Li said, “Sit down. I’ve ordered a nice
French wine for you, Li Song. “As they sat down Madam Chen entered the
room.
“Gentlemen! My favorite young men!” She beamed. “ I am so glad

you could come to the party. We have a surprise for you. Chen Lili is staying
here with me and will join our group. Isn’t that wonderful.”
“Uncle, you didn’t tell us Lili was here,” Li Song said accusingly with
a big smile on his face. “When did she come to Hong Kong?”
Why, Li Song, your Uncle arranged everything weeks ago and now
she’s here,” Madam Chen said going to the door to usher Chen Lili into the
room.
Chen Lili entered the room dressed in a Cheongsam. It was
exquisitely tailored and fit her curves perfectly. Li-Li’s hair was pulled back
and up in the Chinese fashion. The style suited her perfectly and revealed
all the fine points of her aristocratic beauty. She looks so lovely Li Song
thought as he hurried over to greet her. An attendant entered the room
and announced the Casey party who had just arrived at the club’s front
entrance.
Madam Chen said, “Come with me Mee-Koh, Li Song can entertain
Lili while we welcome your Uncle’s guests.”
The Casey’s were waiting in the vestibule on the floor below. “Dad, is
this like the faculty club at the university?” Robert asked.
“Well, I bet the professors wished their club was like this one. But,
no, this is a businessman’s pleasure palace. The club has plenty of
hostesses and private bedrooms upstairs where they give “special service.
And, the food here is great,” he added as an afterthought.
You mean it’s a high-class whorehouse?”

“No, I wouldn’t put it that way. It’s more of a social thing. Lot’s of
business gets done here over dinner and drinks,” Casey responded.
Robert Casey noticed Madam Chen as she entered with Mee-Koh and
said, “Here comes Mee-Koh and that must be Mrs. Chen. Good Lord! Look
at her! She’s beautiful.”
“That’s her alright,” his father said getting up from his chair.
As he moved towards Madam Chen across the richly carpeted room,
James Casey thought of all the women he had ever known and could not
think of one who even came close to being as lovely as Madam Chen. Aside
from the obvious, he thought, it must be her bearing and confidence that
makes her so attractive. As she took his hand in greeting he was enveloped
in the scent of a discreet French perfume,
“Mr. James Casey, Welcome to the club. And this must be the son
Robert I’ve heard so much about,” she said breaking off and moving to
shake Robert’s hand.
“Hello, Madame Chen. How are you?” Casey said reaching for a
handshake.
“I am fine, Mr. Casey, and you?
Good, thanks. We’ve been busy but, thanks to your Paul, we’ve
managed to get almost everything we need. Another day and I think we’ll
be ready to leave for Manila.” he said.
“What’s taken you so long to bring Robert here?” Madam Chen said,
chiding Casey. “I’ll bet you’ve been working him too hard already.”

Casey laughed. “ Well, it’s only been a couple of days, Madam Chen.
And, you know with any new business venture you have to work hard to
get going before somebody else beats you out.”
“Never mind.” let’s go up and join the rest of our party. Men are all
alike. All business most of the time.” Madam Chen said good-naturedly. Her
last remark was directed at the younger men. Then she turned and led
them up the stairs.
A heavily built man of medium height dressed in a tuxedo shadowed
Madam Chen’s movements about the club. Known by his western name,
John Chang, he was expert in making himself almost invisible in his
movements about the club. He followed the “package” in his care as if she
were the most important person in his life. Some said he was up from the
criminal underground. Others noted that he spoke with a Hainan accent. It
may have been the long vertical scare on his face but what everyone
understood was that John Chang was dangerous. As he followed the small
group out of the room he was conscious of Madam Chen’s gait that seemed
lighter and less deliberate than usual. She’s happy, he thought, as they filed
up the stairs. He wondered why.
They were all seated in the intimate dining room reserved for special
dinners. Paul Li as the senior person, sat at the head of the table. Madam
Chen was seated on his right. James Casey was next, with Lili on his right.
Li Song, Robert, Harry Kang, Mee-Koh and Caleb Bingham completed the
circle.

Paul Li spoke to his dinner companions. “I am most happy and
honored to have you all here tonight. Before dinner is served I’d like to
offer a toast to Mr. James Casey and Robert Casey, our new partners in
business, and to tell you, Madam Chen and Lili, that my nephews Li Song
and Mee-Koh will be going to work with our new company in the
Philippines. If all goes well we will see a new a prosperous branch of the
Family’s business established there over the next few years in connection
with our American partners. This is all due to my long time friend Mr.
Caleb Bingham from Manila who introduced us to Mr. Casey.”
“Hear! Hear!” Madam Chen said, raising her glass.
Lili was beaming at Li Song who was looking very handsome in his
white dinner jacket. They all drank to the toast and then settled back in
their chairs. The dinner that followed was exceptional. They had parsed
chicken in bitter melon sauce, whole braised sea bass, a dozen succulent
dim-sum dishes and finally golden melon. The club’s executive chef visited
the room beaming at the complements everyone gave for the delicious
meal. He leaned down to Paul Li and spoke with him briefly. Li nodded and
looked around the table.
“Our chef has prepared one last dish in honor of our American
guests.” The waiters entered with silver trays and small dishes of a
caramel pudding that had its origins in Spanish America.
The Casey’s were astonished.
“Dad, look it’s just like the dessert mother used to make when we

were kids in Mexico,” Robert said.
“Yes, doesn’t it taste great?” James Casey was clearly impressed.
“How do you do it?”
Madam Chen laughed and said, “Oh we have our little ways. He
always asks me about the background of our guests and then surprises us
with a special dish. Actually our chef used to work in a hotel in Mexico City
when he was starting his career.”
“It’s really wonderful to have such a great staff. “ Casey responded as
he finished the dessert.
“How about some entertainment?” Paul Li said as he got up from the
table.
Madam Chen looked across at the younger members of the group
and said, “Why don’t we all meet in the cabaret room in a few minutes. We
have a new singer I think you will like.”
The Cabaret Room was an intimate place with a small stage built to
accommodate a small band and an entertainer. The reputation of the club
was so high that the management had no trouble booking the best acts in
Asia. John Chang was in charge of the booking staff and through his
contacts in Singapore, Shanghai and Tokyo had succeeded in bringing
headliners from all over into Hong Kong. Seats were much in demand and
most club members had standing orders for reservations booked far in
advance. Madam Chen had requested a special arrangement for her guests
and John Chung had the smallest of the cabaret rooms set up to

accommodate their party.
A young Chinese man in tuxedo stepped into the spotlight. “Thank
you for joining us tonight. We are privileged to have a fresh new talent from
Shanghai, Miss O-Yan Fifi. Let’s welcome her with a round of applause.”
The small orchestra struck up a theme in syncopated rhythm. As it
did so a diminutive figure in a white dress and hat stepped into the
spotlight and started singing. “Oopsie Doopsie, Oopsie Doopsie Doopsie Do.”
It’s you. You’re my Oopsie Doopsie, Oopsie Doopsie.” The singer was very
engaging. As she turned in the light her dance was smart enough to engage
her audience. They all laughed at the lyrics and O-Yan Fifi, encouraged by
the reception moved close to their table motioning to James Casey to join
her in the dance.
Casey’s first impulse was to take her up on her invitation. He was
naturally musical and had always enjoyed social dancing. But, his natural
diffidence took over. He laughed and waved his hand in a way that said, “no
thank you.”
Madam Chen watched him with an amused smile. She’d liked Casey
from the very first and it was obvious to her that he was strongly attracted
to her. It’s too bad he’s leaving so soon she thought. He’s someone I would
like to know better.
Lili and Li Song were whispering in a deep conversation at the back
of the group. They obviously were close friends and perhaps had been
lovers in the past Madam Chen thought. Li Peng was right to have cast her

out. It’s too dangerous to have someone around who knows most of the
family’s secrets but who is not of the family, she thought. Her ability to take
the point of view of others, to express their thinking to herself, and then
move on to an assessment of the situation on her own terms was one of her
greatest strengths. Paul Li had learned to trust her judgment over the
years of their partnership. He often joked with her about how “dangerous”
she was to their joint enemies because she could assess their positions
from afar based on a few facts she had been able to glean. A casual remark
dropped by a visitor to the club could emerge as a very useful weapon after
being processed through her Very perceptive brain. Paul Li looked around
the group assessing each one there. He liked James Casey and Robert; they
seemed to be pretty transparent and naive enough for their level of
experience. He did not entirely believe that Casey had arrived at his door
by the accident of having Caleb Bingham as a mutual friend. He was sure
that James Casey was pretty much as represented, but that there must be
much more to the man’s story. He was sure that the story would emerge as
time progressed and his mental game was to guess what it finally would
turn out to be. He knew that Madam Chen would be instrumental in this
process. He could tell that she liked Casey and was attracted to him. He
knew that it would not be long before he knew all there was to know about
Mr. Casey.
John Chang came up behind Paul Li and whispered in his ear. “Mr.
Li, two Japanese Gentlemen are waiting down in the reception area. They

seem to know that you are in the club and they asked if they could see you.
Here are their calling cards.”
Paul Li nodded and looked briefly at the cards. The senior officer’s
card belonged to Colonel Kimura, military attaché, at the Japanese
Embassy. The other card bore the name Lieutenant Colonel Tsuji
Masanobu.
“Please tell them I will be along shortly,” he said.
He then spoke to Madam Chen in Chinese. “Our mutual friend from
Japan is downstairs. He has brought a visitor. They want to see me. I will
try to get back soon. But, if I don’t return I will call you latter.” Having said
this, he excused himself and left the room.
Colonel Kimura was a powerfully built man. His career in the army
had been exemplary. His education was unusual for a Japanese career
officer and it included extended time in London and in the United States.
His personal dossier noted that he was the author of two extended studies
of Great Britain and the United States that formed part of the curriculum
at the Staff College of the Japanese Army. He had graduated from this
same army staff college in 1918 along with General Ishiwara Kanji who was
now on the Japanese General Staff in Tokyo. His assignment in Hong Kong
at the Embassy was no accidental assignment. He was hand picked by
General Ishiwara and reported to him outside the chain of command.
His companion of the evening was Lt. Colonel Tsuji Masanobu, a
graduate of the Army’s Staff College, confidant of Prince Mikasa, and a

member of an inner circle of well connected army officers. He had only
recently arrived in Hong Kong from Formosa where he was stationed with
Unit 82, a top-secret intelligence organization. Lt. Colonel Tsuji was
enjoying the relative anonymity afforded by traveling as a civilian.
“Ah, Mr. Li, sorry to disturb you. This is Colonel Tsuji, who is visiting
me in Hong Kong, “ Colonel Kimura said.
“How do you do Colonel Tsuji, welcome to Hong Kong, Paul Li said.
“Thank you, I am enjoying my stay here so far.”
“Good, good, If there is anything I can do for you while you are here
please do not hesitate to call on me. Can we talk here Gentlemen, or should
we go to a private room?” Uncle Li asked.
Colonel Kimura said, “It would be best to be in a private place. We
have some serious news to discuss.”
“Good, let’s go in here.” Uncle Li ushered them into an anteroom.
“Cigar, anyone?”
Colonel Kimura asked Tsuji for the brief case he was carrying.
Opening the case, he reached in for a folded telex sheet. “We have just
received this message from Headquarters in Tokyo. It’s encoded but it’s
been translated and I will read the contents to you,”
‘To: All Stations Dateline: Tokyo, Imperial General Staff
Headquarters.” The Imperial Army, in response to provocation, has landed
in the Tonkin Area of Indochina. Over a period of 10 days we have sealed
off the border with China and will operate so as to eliminate any threat to

our Army by enemy forces remaining. The Supreme command is
dispatching additional marine and ground forces to the area, and will
respond to any challenge to our authority. All units of his Imperial
Majesty’s forces are hereby placed on 24 hr. alert. Please await further
orders.’
When he finished reading, Kimura looked up.
“ Why are you telling me?” Paul Li asked.
“It could mean an expansion of the war,” Kimura responded. “We
came to ask what you know because we don’t have any idea what is
happening on the Chinese side, and we thought you might be able to help.
What have you heard?”
“Nothing. This is the first I have heard of this,” Uncle Li said, “What
do you make of it?”
Well, reading between the lines, I would say that there will be an all
out war to end opposition by Generalissimo Chiang-Kai-shek,” Tsuji said.
“You saw what happened when he attacked us in Shanghai? He must know
that ultimately we will crush his government forces.”
Li thought for a moment and said, “Yes, well I must agree. I do not
understand the man. Perhaps he has simply underestimated Japan’s
resolve. Of course he does not do things for only military reasons. Almost
every thing he does is for a political purpose. But, I cannot think what he
will do in this instance.”
“We are also puzzled”, Tsuji said. Surely, he must understand that

Tokyo will mobilize as many divisions as it takes to win a final battle. We
cannot lose face, and will do what we have to do to defeat the
Generalissimo’s army.”
Paul put his hands over his face and rubbed his brow. “There is one
explanation,” he said. “Can it be that he is secretly expecting aid from the
British and the Americans especially the Americans?”
“That must be the explanation,” Kimura said. “But Japan will soon
have a surprise for the world on the diplomatic front. In addition Japan is
planning a major military move as a part of our overall strategic plan.”
“Yes, I think your High Command must be considering a strike
further south,’ Paul said.
“Why do you say that,” Tsuji said, “Do you have any special
information about it?’
“No, nothing special. Only that it makes sense in light of Japan’s
need for petroleum,” Paul said, “You can’t run a war without petrol.”
Kimura grunted assent and looked at Tsuji; “I told you that Mr. Li is
an intelligent man.
“Don’t mind Kimura-san, Mr. Li,” Tsuji said, “He’s been a bit churlish
all day because I beat him badly at Ma Jong last night. We are all friends
here, right?”
To break the tension in the room, Paul Li said, “Gentlemen, lets have
some brandy.” He went to the door and called a waitress to the entryway.
“Please bring a bottle of VSOP Brandy please, three glasses, and

some water.”
Outwardly, Paul Li appeared to be calm, but his mind was racing. He
knew that the Japanese military could not stand the stalemate that had
existed in China for the last year. The time was rapidly approaching when
they would, in frustration strike out at their perceived tormenters Great
Britain and the United States. He was considering what he should do to
defend his own position and that of his business. After the waitress had
poured the drinks and gone, he said, “So what is to be done? Will you
challenge the British here? Will Japan invade Hong Kong?”
Kimura looked down and said, “There are many war plans in Tokyo.
Naturally we cannot know the thinking of the high command directly, and
in any case could not tell you what has been decided, if we knew.”
“I understand,” Li said.
Tsuji spoke. “You understand Japan’s position. It is a small, but
militarily powerful country. We badly need oil, minerals, and other supplies
for a protracted war. We have no choice but to strike quickly to secure
these things wherever they can be found. While our plans and timing are
secret, it must be pretty obvious what we intend to do.”
“Tsuji san,” Paul said, “I first met Colonel Kimura in London before
the war. We have been friends ever since. I recognize the particular genius
of Japan. I have seen Formosa and the things you have done there. But, I
am also Chinese, with a great love of my own country and people. Naturally
I am distressed by this turn of events. I do not want the war to continue

because I believe in the end nobody profits. But, if war it is, then war it will
be. We cannot stop it.”
He went on, “I will continue to help my friends,” he said. If you or
Colonel Kimura have need of my company’s services please do not hesitate
to contact me. I am sorry but the hour is late. I have guests here at the club
and I must return to our gathering. Please excuse me. And, of course if
there is anything else you need while you are here at the Club, don’t
hesitate to ask.” Having said this, he got up, shook hands with them, and
left the room.
* * *
“Well, Tsuji-san, what to you think of our friend Mr. Li,” Kimura
asked.
“He is very impressive. He didn’t even blink when you read him the
news. Do you suppose he already knew about the situation in Tonkin?”
“Yes, it’s probable. He has a very cool head. He could almost be a
Japanese.” Kimura said. “He doesn’t invent stories or lie, he’s too smart for
that. Of course he does not tell you all that he knows. For that I like him. It
makes it more interesting. We can call him in a day or two and request
passage for you to Manila on his company’s ship.”
“That would be good,” Tsuji responded. “I want to make all deliberate
speed on this trip.”
“What would you like to do now? We can stay a while longer and
relax with a woman or go back to the Consulate.”

*. *. *
Paul Li left the club without going back upstairs. He was in a hurry
and wanted to get back to his office as quickly as possible. The Rickshaw
driver moved swiftly after being told he would get double pay if he were
quick. Entering his office, Paul Li went to his desk. Unlocking the cabinet
behind his chair he pulled out an account book and ran his finger down a
list of assets at all of his offices in China. “It is worse than I thought”, he
said to himself out loud. He rang the bell cord to the night porter’s room.
The porter appeared, standing in his nightclothes, just inside the office
door.
“Lim, I want you to go to the harbor. Our ship Golden Dragon is tied up
there. Go aboard; tell the duty officer you need to wait for Captain Kang to
come back to the ship. When he does come back bring him here
immediately. Tell him there is an emergency. Hurry!”
By the time Harry Kang arrived at Paul Li’s office he was feeling a bit
rocky from all the drink he had consumed, but he was fully awake. “Sorry I
took so long getting here,” he said, “I was trading stories with Jim Casey at
the club when Otani-san called saying that Lim was waiting for me on the
ship.”
“I am glad you’re here,” Paul said, “I need your advice on a meeting I
just had with the Japanese Military attaché and a visitor he had from
Formosa. The Japanese High Command has announced to all military
stations that they have invaded the Tonkin area of northern Indochina. We

already know that, but obviously they were still trying to keep it under
wraps.”
“Hell, the whole world knows it by now,” Harry said, “What kind of
games are they playing. Did you get the impression that bigger plans are
afoot?”
“Yes, that’s really why I want to talk to you.” My two callers
mentioned some diplomatic activity and intimated that Japan’s intention
is to move south into the Dutch East Indies at some point. My guess is that
their next push will be to try and wipe out the Nationalist armies in China.
One thing they made clear is that Japan is mobilizing more troops. They
must be getting ready to mobilize the whole country in a way we’ve not
seen up to now.”
“What else, Paul, you seem pretty worried.”
“I can’t put my finger on it. I’ve known Kimura for a long time. He’s
always been pretty straight with me. I do things for him and he does things
for me quid pro quo. But, this was different.”
“I remember. Met him at your party last year. How about the guy
that was with him tonight.”
“Kimura introduced him as Colonel Tsuji. There was a certain
tension in Kimura that I have not seen before, and a deference that he
showed towards him.”
“You think he a member of Japanese intelligence or High
Command?”

“I am not sure. Kimura was trying to tell me something, but the only thing I can
figure out is that they may be getting ready for a big push in China. That would leave us
in a bad place particularly in Shanghai. We have no way to figure out the timing of any
Japanese offensive. I think we should get you up there and move the bulk of our assets
back here. How about Golden Dragon, is she ready for a trip to Shanghai? How
about the crew?”
“The boat can be ready in a couple of hours. We need to wait until the
fuel dock opens up at six. Most of the crew is on board. Only a few junior
members are on leave. We can take off without them and I can pick them
up when I get back.” Kang said.
“Good, I have prepared instructions for your time in Shanghai.
Please read it in your cabin on the ship and then destroy it. Use the specie
in your ship’s chest to finance this trip. If you need more when you get to
Shanghai, get it from the manager there. Hurry, there is no time to waste!”
On his way out the door, Harry turned back to face Paul, “I’ve just
thought of something. This American opposition to the Japanese landings
in Indochina could be causing the Japanese to advance the schedule of
their long-range plans. They already must be hurting for oil. I’d bet
anything that’s what Kimura was trying to communicate. If this is true,
you’re right, we need to get a hustle on.”
* * *
Jim Casey had been trading stories with Captain Kang when Harry
received a call from Otani-san on Golden Dragon. Kang apologized to Jim

for his need to leave, and left the club. Caleb Bingham had disappeared
earlier with hostess from the Club who joined their party after the
entertainment. Jim was trying to decide what to do when Madam Chen
came up to him and invited him to her apartment. He followed her up the
stairs to the top of the building and into her suite of rooms. On entering
Madam Chen’s apartment he’d immediately taken a seat on a small chair
close to the door because he had a slight buzz on. The drinks after dinner
had been strong and he was not used too so much alcohol. Jim Casey’s
physical discomfort was obvious His choice was an impulse and he began to
regret it the moment he sat down. Madam Chen was amused by it and
decided to let him suffer for a time. She asked to be excused and went to
her dressing room to change out of her evening dress. He decided to sit still
and try to get his bearings. I’ll really need to keep my balance if I don’t
want to embarrass myself, he thought. In the two years following his wife
Conception’s death, Casey had suffered deep waves of loneliness. They
weren’t constant, and if he kept busy working, and had enough physical
exercise during the day, he had little difficulty falling asleep easily. But,
he’d been traveling for months now and with time on his hands on a ship it
was difficult to cope with his feelings. He realized that it was time to move
on emotionally but without more of a reason than his own decision it
seemed so arbitrary. As the haze began to clear he looked around the room.
It was simply furnished in lacquered woods and western style sofas. He got
up and padded across the rug to a large portrait painted in the Chinese

style. As he gazed at it, Madam Chen returned.
“It’s a portrait of my father,” she said. “It’s a pretty good likeness but
it really doesn’t begin to say much about the real man.”
“Well, he’s an imposing figure. Is he still living?” Casey asked.
“No, he died several years ago after an extended illness. I miss him a
great deal even though we disagreed about ever so many things. He was a
gentleman of the old school and not an easy man to get along with,” She
concluded.
Casey nodded agreement and said, “Yes, well I know how that is. My
own father was like that. He wanted me to go into the family law business
but I decided to be an engineer and I think it broke his heart.”
Madam Chen positioned herself on one end of a long comfortable
looking sofa and said, “Come and join me. Would you like a drink?”
Before Casey could answer there was a knock on the door.
“Come.”
The door opened and John Chang entered the room bearing an
envelope. “I am sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Li sent this message and his
man said it was urgent”.
“Thank you, John. Please have a seat,” Madame Chen said as she
extracted a note and started reading.
“Something urgent has come up. Then, looking at Jim Casey she said,
“Mr. Li asked me to tell you that the ship you were going to take to Manila
will not be available to leave as planned. It is being sent to another port and

should be back in a week or so. Then it will go to the Philippines.”
Pausing, she laughed and said, “Isn’t that nice John, Mr. Casey and
Robert will be in Hong Kong and we shall have the opportunity to entertain
them a little longer. Let’s have as drink and celebrate. John would you ask
the sommelier to bring in some wine.”
As John Chang got up he said, “Will there be anything else Madam?”
“No thank you, John. Let’s talk first thing in the morning.
Then she turned to Casey; “Paul thinks the situation might get worse
in Shanghai. I guess he’s sending Captain Kang to try and help his people
in case they need to get away from the city. The situation has been tense for
a long time and I guess things are finally coming to a head. In any case Mr.
Li will want to talk with you in the morning. You must be disappointed you
will not be leaving for Manila as soon as you planned “
Casey was not as disinterested as he tried to sound, “Well, yes I
suppose so. I wonder what’s happened to our supplies? They were
supposed to be loaded on the Golden Dragon this afternoon.”
She handed him a glass of port and said, “Never mind, you can find
out in the morning. Let’s just enjoy the wine and have a talk. I want to hear
all about Mexico.”
They talked long into the early hours of the morning. Casey was
captivated by her easy manner. The apparent self-assured confidence
intrigued him. Madam Chen was drawn by his masculine presence. She
found herself, after being so long without a sexual relationship with a man,

wondering why she was being stirred in such a physical way.
Hong Kong: The Code Room in the Japanese Consulate
After getting “special service” from two ladies at the Club, Kimura
and Tsuji spent the rest of the night in the code room of the Japanese
Consulate. There was frequent coded cable traffic and the code clerks were
busy decoding and copying messages out in clear text Japanese. By the
time the sun came up there was a growing confirmation of their
expectations that the Japanese military high command was readying an
all out land attack up the Yangtse River as far as Chungking. They looked
over a map of China and tried to assess the likely points of attack as they
ate a breakfast of salted fish and rice Tsuji commented,’ There are ten to
fifteen divisions that can be mobilized for this action. My guess is that
command will decide to isolate Chiang Kai-shek by an encircling movement
here in the north, and at the same time striking towards the Chiang’s
government up the Yangtse. I can’t imagine that a few swift blows couldn’t
take our forces to Chungking in less than two weeks.”
Kimura was skeptical. “It will require a pretty complicated
maneuver. The Chinese government’s best troops are on the line. Wouldn’t
our own army need to roll them back to prevent a flanking movement?
Don’t forget the extended lines of perimeter defense they’ve built. Those
block houses they’ve built may be difficult to breech.”
Tsuji countered, “It’s a whole new and different style of assault now,

Kimura-san. Light tanks make a real difference. Our infantry can move
faster and farther then before. We don’t have to haul heavy artillery along
in the first days of an assault. And, don’t discount our air support. Light
bombers and fighter aircraft can work off our new bases on the coast and
blitz the enemy. It’s pretty hard for even disciplined troops like ours to
resist such an attack. Remember, Chiang Kai-shek’s air defense is
practically non existent.”
Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s been a long time since I was active in
a front-line unit,” Kimura said. Still, without being critical, I do think the
situation on the ground is very complicated. It will be interesting to see
how it all evolves as the fighting progresses.”
“Well, now that the decision has been forced on us by the need to
defeat the Chinese once and for all, it shouldn’t be long before we start
having answers to all of our questions, “ Tsuji responded.
American Consulate in Hong Kong
This building seems smaller than I remember it being, Caleb
Bingham thought as he alighted from a Rickshaw in front of the flagpole
flying the Stars & Stripes in the morning sun. Pushing his way past the
swarms of people on the street he entered the consulate building and
identified himself at the reception desk and asked for the office of the
Charge de’ Affairs. Within minutes he was seated at the desk of a slim
career diplomat, Charles Chase, and explained his purpose for being there.

“I have to send a confidential cable concerning some matters which
concern the United States. Can you help me?”
“Of Course. Can you tell me what the nature of these matters might
be?” Chase responded.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Chase. I have to submit a report to the State
Department, concerning some matters I have been asked to report on. In
addition I was supposed to return to Manila today but my transport has
been postponed, and I want to inform my office of that fact.
“Have you heard the news? Germany, Italy, and Japan have signed a
treaty of mutual aid and support for the war aims of each of the countries.
It came over the wire from Washington this morning and was confirmed by
BBC Radio. This changes the relations between the countries in both
Europe and Asia.”
God, that’s terrible,” Caleb said, “What is Britain going to do here in
Hong Kong?”
It’s really to early to tell,” Chase said, “Before you go tell me what
you think about the present situation in Asia,”
“A Chinese businessman friend of mine was visited by two men from
the Japanese Embassy. Apparently they were trying to warn him about
some new Japanese offensive in China. Have you heard anything?”
“Yes, we did get some news. The fighting has been going on and off for
so long that we tend to discount these kinds of reports. Does your Chinese
associate think this will mean a new and much bigger conflict?”

“Apparently so. He seems quite worried about the situation in
Shanghai. His company has an office there and he’s worried about getting
his people out.”
After filing his report and sending a message to Manila, Caleb
Bingham left the Consulate and decided to walk back to the Star Ferry
dock. The news of a tripartite pact between Japan, Hitler and Mussolini
wasn’t good news but he was feeling good now that his report was done. His
direct knowledge of war was as remote as the understanding of most
Americans and all the death and carnage of war seemed far away. Still, he
was privy to information that was not yet general knowledge and he felt
privileged in a small way. Better still, was the knowledge that he had a few
extra days in Hong Kong to pursue a sexual escapade or two.

Chapter 7
Shanghai: Early Fall 1941
The Golden Dragon’s Detroit Diesel main engines roared into life and
the ship moved swiftly away from the quay. Captain Kang stood in the
wheelhouse next to the steersman giving commands in a quiet voice. “Clear
the channel on the starboard side of the Island. When you have the Victoria
Peak light alongside, make course from the log sheet for Shanghai. Stay
just inside the one hundred-fathom line. I am going below. Notify me if
anything needs my attention.”
Captain Kang descended the ladder at the stern of the wheelhouse
and entered the cabin. Opening the envelope Paul Li had given him he sat
down at his chart table and opened Paul Li’s instructions. He reached back
to a bookshelf behind his desk and pulled down an English translation of a
volume of poems by Lu Shun that were part of a series of twelve bound in a
set. Checking the cover he made sure the volume number corresponded to
the current month and opened the volume to the page number
corresponding to the day of the month. The poem was “Long Nights of
Spring.’ Harry counted in to the 18th character and then consulted a
standard Chinese commercial Morse code book for the numerical series for
the Character that appeared in the poem. The number he extracted was a
numerical offset to the characters in the commercial code. Using it the
message could be decoded as fast as the characters could be looked up. The
ingenuity of Paul Li’s company code always amused Captain Kang. His

fingers flying, he quickly looked up the characters by adding the offset and
in minutes he was looking at Paul Li’s clear copy message.

Captain Kang:
Move all assets in Shanghai to Hong Kong except small amounts
to cover up our intentions. I will arrange transfer to Jardine
Mathison's Go down at whiskey creek, Nantao side for your pick-up at
your convenience. If possible, Have Otani-san go to see his brother at
his office in the Japanese Consulate. Ask that he find out about the
Japanese Army’s intentions in Shanghai. Depending on what Otani-san
finds out, I want you to decide course of action. If the Japanese succeed
in taking Shanghai it will become the same “dark world” as Korea and
Manchuria. Tu Yueh Sheng will want some smoking material. Trade to
him for gold, or gift him at your discretion. He may want to move
himself out of Shanghai. He can come to Hong Kong with you. If to
Nanjing, you can suggest a safe boat to go up river. He will want to
bring his bodyguards. Be careful to not take any risks. He is dangerous,
as you know better than anyone does. Please load cargo, and clear
Shanghai as soon as possible. Put your ship’s Shanghai name boards out
and don’t forget to change the flag before you close the entrance of
Wangpoa River. Good Luck. P. L.
Captain Kang laughed at the ‘Don’t forget the flag’ remark. Paul Li
always remembers to add some small caution over things he worries that I
will forget. He knows my weaknesses well, he thought.
Captain Kang read the message over again, committed it all to
memory, and burned it in the flame of the cabin lamp. It could be a long
four or five day trip to Shanghai. I will have time, he thought, to consider

how to do what is needed in Shanghai. There was a knock on his cabin door.
He responded, and Li Song, still dressed in evening clothes, staggered into
the cabin. “Captain Kang, excuse me, where are we going?”
Surprised, Captain Kang said, “Shanghai. I didn’t know you were on
board.”
“Mee-Koh and I had much to drink at the party. We came back to the
ship and fell down sleeping. I woke up when I felt the motion of the Ship.”
“I will send a message to your Uncle,” said Captain Kang, “Your Uncle
sent us on an urgent mission so we can’t take the time to go back. You’ll
have to go with me. Go back to sleep it will be a long night.”
As Li Song retreated, Captain Kang, slide back a panel on the
bulkhead next to his desk, pulled out a telegraph key and switched on a
transmitter, and a receiver. As they warmed up, he located the frequency
of the Hong Kong commercial ship radio operator on both dials and sent a
CQ, which was promptly answered. He sent the ships radio call letters and
then sent a short message to Paul Li.
Li Song and Mee-Koh on board Stop They will be useful manning
the ship at dockside. Will advise situation upon arrival Stop H.K.
He sat for a few minutes with eyes closed, then opened a speaking
tube and called, “Mr. Moran, Topsides please.”
Skip Moran was Captain Kang’s oldest shipmate. They had both been
junior deck hands on the tramp freighter Mary McBride in the months
following Kang’s abrupt departure from the Senior Class at the US Naval

Academy. He remembered both the anger and shame he felt, sitting in
Washington’s Union Station, waiting for the train to New York where he
hoped to catch an outbound ship. The three-day wait in the seaman’s hiring
hall in New York seemed like an eternity. Then the Mary McBride was
posted and he’d joined the ship. It all seems like a different lifetime ago,
Harry thought.
Skip Moran was so physically imposing that as his solid frame
entered the room the cabin seemed to shrink in size. “What’s up Cap,” he
said as he sat down.
“Maybe some heavy weather, Skip. The Japs are landing more troops
in China according to reports we’ve received. It looks like a major push up
the Yangtse in an effort to end the war. We’ve got orders to pack up the
office and move it out. Leave a little behind to make it look like we’re still in
business there. Thing is we’ve got to do a deal with Tu Yueh Sheng or we
won’t get out of town.”
“So, what’s the plan,” Moran said.
“We’ll go into the river at night. There should be enough going on
that we won’t be noticed. We can drop Otani-san at the mouth of the creek
in the small skiff. He can row ashore and see his brother in the Jap
Consulate. Paul wants us to put in at the Jardine go-down just past the
Bund. Let’s keep everything on standby for a fast run out. I am going to
have to go ashore and see Tu. If anything goes wrong you take a powder,
get underway, fake a run to the sea, then go into the creek and wait for me.

How’s everything in the engine room?”
“Shipshape. The engines are running good. Those babies are great.
The boys at Detroit Diesel finally got something right. I’ve got a few small
problems but nothing I can’t fix underway. It’s always a struggle to avoid
getting bad fuel, but basically, I’m not worried.”
“A submarine has been grounded at Tsingtao and the boat’s up for
salvage. So there must be two engines there. Maybe we can lay our hands
on them one of these days. I’ll have Paul make inquires.”
“Sure, we can always use a spare engine or two. If we build another
ship like this one I can overhaul them so we can put them in.”
“Good, we’ll try to get it. By the way the boss’s nephews need
watching over. Can you take them under your wing, Skip”
“Be happy to. I can teach them how to shoot in the next couple of
days. It might come in handy up the river.”
“See you Tomorrow, Skip. I think I’ll turn in now. It’s been a long
day.”
As morning dawned the sky was overcast gray. A light wind rippled
out of the northwest. The mountains behind the coast of Fukien were
visible behind the small fishing junks off the port side where Li Song and
Mee-Koh stood nursing their hangovers with cups of strong tea.
“I’ve got a terrible headache,” Mee-Koh said, I hope we don’t have
work today.”
“Kang will have us doing something,” Li Song said, “He hates to have

anyone idle on his ship. Just pray it doesn’t require any thinking. My brain
is dead.”
Within minutes Skip Moran approached them on the deck. “Morning’
boys. Captain Kang asked me to teach you how to clean and shoot side
arms. If you can be in my engineer’s office in thirty minutes we can start
learning what there is to know about a colt 45.”
Skip Moran’s office was a compact room with a single built in bunk
on one side, a washbasin, and a desk. When they knocked he opened the
door and invited them in and asked them to sit on the bunk. The room was
filled with engine noise and Li-Song yelled, “Pretty noisy in here.”
“Oh! Yeah,” Skip said, “I don’t hardly notice it after all my years
sitting on top of an engine.” Then, he reached down and dropped an eight
by eight-inch square plug into a hole in the deck near his desk.
“That should do it. When I am in here alone I like to be able to hear
the engine down there in case something gets out of whack.”
“How fast are we going,” Mee-Koh asked.
“Well, we’re moving right along. I’d say we’re turning about 800 rpm.
That’s twelve knots if there’s no current flowing against us. It’s not real
fast but it’s steady and we don’t use much fuel at this speed. We should be
in Shanghai in three, maybe four days.”
Skip Moran then leaned over and slid a small panel back on the wall
under a row of gauges. He pulled out two Colt 45 Automatics and handed
one to Li Song. “Okay, I am going to show you how to take this baby apart,

wipe it down, and put it back together. Then, when you have it down cold
we can go up on deck and do a little shooting.”
“This thing is heavy,” Song-Li said.
“Yeah, it is pretty hefty,” Moran said, “But it’s got to be strong
because a .45 slug is pretty powerful. It can knock a man down at fifty feet
with no problem. Only thing is, without knowing a few tricks it’s pretty
hard to hit what you’re aiming at. I’ll show you what I mean later on deck.”
Following an hour of practice, disassembling and putting the
weapons back together again, the boys were taken on deck to practice
firing. A deckhand had put a target of rice straw stuffed in a burlap sack up
on the rail. Skip Moran pulled a pair of ammunition clips from his jacket
pocket and inserted one in the handle of the gun he was holding.
Chambering a round, he suddenly crouched down in a squared off position
holding the 45 in both hands, and fired at the target. The bullet pierced the
bag dead center from 40 feet away.
The secret of this is in your feet,” Skip said, “You’ve got to be on the
balls of your feet. Stand flatfooted and you can’t hit a thing. Then, the next
thing to remember is to make a triangle with both your arms square onto
your body. The weapon is then at the apex of the triangle like this. Even a
big man like me can’t shoot for shit with only one hand like this.”
He turned sideways and, holding the gun in his right hand took aim
and fired. The slug hit the target but was well wide of center. “See you lose
accuracy like that. Now you guys try it. Remember these things are

dangerous so don’t point them at anyone unless you mean to kill him.”
Their first shots went wild. Mee-Koh’s second shot hit the cap rail
and splintered it badly. Moran laughed and said, “That shot is called a
woody. Here let me give you some pointers on aiming.” Then he showed
them how to squeeze gently and not jerk off their shots. Five or six rounds
later they were hitting the burlap target with regularity. Finally it simply
disintegrated and remnants fell overboard. “That’s enough for the day. Now
go down, clean your weapons and wipe them with the gun oil you’ll find in
the locker. There’s a swab on a wire handle in there that you can use to
clean the inside of the barrels.”
Gradually during the day Li Song and Mee-Koh realized that the
crew of the Golden Dragon was made up of both men and women. The
women had short hair and wore the same clothing as the men so they were
difficult to distinguish. At lunch they asked Captain Kang about it and he
responded, “Yes, that’s right nearly half our crew are female. Everyone on
board except Skip Moran, Otani-san and myself is Chiu Chow, a “boat
person.” They were born on a boat, have lived all their lives on a boat, and
probably will die on a boat. They make the best kind of crew; they don’t
have to think what to do. They just naturally do what has to be done. In
rough weather, or in a fight, you don’t have to worry about ‘em. They can
take care of themselves.”
“You mean the women fight,” asked Li Song.
“They sure do. Some are tougher than a man. And they show no

mercy. They’d as soon kill an enemy as look at them,” Harry said,
“Tomorrow if we have time we’ll put on a shooting competition and you’ll
see how good shots they are. You’ll be surprised.”
By nightfall a squall blew out of the south and the sea became
confused. The wind began blowing off the tops of the waves that rolled
under the stern of the ship and hurried away under the hull. A steadying
sail was hoisted part way up the forward mast and the engine was
throttled back. The motion of the ship settled appreciably and their speed
through the water seemed little affected. Li Song and Mee-Koh were taking
all this in because they found it fascinating.
“There’s a lot more to sailing a ship than it seems like there would
be, don’t you think,” Li Song said.
“Yes, I looked at the map on Captain Kang’s desk and I couldn’t figure
out how to read the thing,” Mee-Koh said, “There aren’t any streets out
here, so how do they know where to go?”
“I know, it’s a mystery,” said Li Song, “I’m sure there’s some method
they can find the way. We just don’t know how they do it. I bet Captain
Kang can explain it all. I’m pretty tired. How about you?”
“Yes, I’m tired to,” Mee-Koh said, “Let’s go to sleep early and
Tomorrow we’ll probably feel a lot better.
After setting extra lookouts on deck Harry Kang retired to his cabin
to listen to the short wave radio. The weather front passing over the ship
made reception difficult and after several tries to tune in the news he gave

up. He contemplated his plan for Shanghai. It was important to know what
was happening in the fighting on the ground he thought. The US military
would probably know as much as anybody. He considered the possibility of
getting through to his friend in the Asiatic Fleet, Captain Ed Cole. He and
his wife lived in Shanghai during the summer months when the bulk of the
fleet was stationed on the China coast at Shanghai, or Tsingtao above
Shanghai. Cole commanded the USS S-39, an older submarine that had
been 16 years on the Asia side of the Pacific Ocean. Its homeport was at
Cavite Naval Station at the south end of Manila Bay, roughly a thousand
miles away in the Philippines. Kang reminded himself that the summer
before this, Cole and his wife Elsie had stayed at the Hotel Metropole. They
might be staying at the same place. He would call there and, if he was
lucky, he might be able to find out if Ed Cole knew anything. If he could
reach his friend, and Otani-san had any luck with his Brother, between the
two he stood a chance of really understanding what was going on. Of course
the best source of information, if he would talk, was Tu Yueh Sheng. As the
boss of the notorious criminal Green Gang, reputed to have 50,000
members, he was in a position to know everything. The problem was he
was such a cantankerous old bastard. Kang reflected on the many dealings
he’d had with Tu Yueh Sheng in the past, not all of them good. Well, all I can
hope is that he’s in a good mood, he concluded.
The second morning out from Hong Kong was dazzling. The front
had passed leaving clear skies and a calm sea. A light following wind made

it possible to hoist sail on the mainmast so that the ship scudded along on
two giant sails. From his bunk, where he’d fallen asleep with his clothes on,
Skip Moran noticed that the engine’s rumble had slowed. Best not go too
fast or we’d make Shanghai in broad daylight he thought as he checked his
watch. He got up and went below to the engine room to talk with the 2nd
engineer.
“How’s your watch been,” Skip asked.
“Okay, I changed the fuel filters earlier and the engine’s been
running better since I did that. I think we may have gotten some dirty fuel
the last time we tanked up. We might have to add another filter in the
system to clean it better on the way into the tanks. What do you think?”
“Yeah, I hate to do that ‘cause it makes fueling so slow,” Skip said, “It
might be we’ve just got a lot of sludge in the tanks. If we go in for another
refit anytime soon maybe we can drain the tanks and flush them out. Why
don’t you turn in? Wake up Chen and send him down after he eats. I’ll keep
an eye on things until he gets here.”
Skip Moran checked the engine log to make sure the filter change
had been entered. Yes, there it was, he thought, 0430 hrs. 2nd is a good
man. Well hell he should be good I trained him my self he chuckled.
Skip Moran couldn’t remember when he’d first fallen in love with
marine engines. It was something that came over him slowly, he thought.
His first experiences in engine rooms hadn’t been all that good. When he’d
signed up for the Navy he was fresh off his father’s logging crew where he’d

done everything to run and repair a steam donkey engine and all the other
machinery used in getting the big redwood trees in the Santa Cruz
mountains of California to the lumber mill. Boot camp at the big Navy base
in San Diego was actually a blast. He was bigger, faster and stronger than
anyone in his recruit class was. After graduation, he was assigned to a
destroyer as a deckhand. The problem was his size. Nothing on a destroyer
was big enough. Below decks he was always bumping his head and
squeezing through small uncomfortable spaces. The first weeks were sheer
hell. His rack was too small and he had trouble sleeping. He grew more and
more irritable. He started making small mistakes on deck. His line
handling became erratic to the point of being dangerous. Then one day, his
deck boss, without saying anything to him, had arranged his transfer to the
engineering department. The chief engineer was a tough, “don’t drop your
wrench,” type. His idea of managing men consisted of yelling at everyone
at the top of his voice. As “George,” the newest member of the engine room,
he was assigned the task of keeping the chain-falls and hoists, oiled and
organized for instant use when needed. This was no easy job in the
cramped spaces jammed with the huge main engines, generators, and
seemingly endless miles of pipe. After working most of his life outdoors in
the fresh air, the heat inside the engine room was unbearable at first. The
air circulation, barely adequate in the best of times, was almost non-
existent underway. The temperature rose steadily and stayed around 100
degrees for hours on end. Skip Moran was not a happy sailor.

Then the ship went into dry dock for a major refit. He was
transferred to the engineering department of the repair yard. He lived on
base in a barracks, ate at the mess hall, and most important of all he began
to enjoy his work. His assignment to the engine shop made the all the
difference. His immediate superior was a civilian mechanic who lived off
base with a large extended family of Mexican relatives. Jesus, who
immediately explained his name was pronounced “HAY- SUS,” was a
cheerful man who hummed popular Mexican tunes as he worked. As soon
as Jesus determined that Skip Moran was handy with tools he often asked
him to take over jobs he had started. At first they worked together on small
diesel engines for small boats. Jesus called them “dissels.” After several
weeks they were called out to work on the installation of new main power
engines on a Submarine. A young lieutenant, Junior Grade, Hyman
Rickover, began coming around at odd moments. Rickover was a pushy guy
and he kept asking questions. Skip Moran didn’t like him, but he did seem
to know a lot about engines and electricity. He’d been through submarine
school, was on the submarine S-48, and had just qualified for command in
record time. One day, when Skip was under an engine working on some
connecting rod end caps Rickover began heckling him about how slow it
was going. Skip looked up and said, “Beg your pardon Sir, but you don’t
know the first thing about this job. Why don’t you just go away and let me
handle it. Rickover gave him a look that could have killed, then he said,
“You’re right Sailor,” and he had gone away. From that time on he started

treating Skip as a professional equal. He lent Skip a book on Diesel engines
and willingly answered questions that Skip had about their inner workings.
Then disaster struck. A chain fall supporting a heavy engine broke
and the engine dropped on Skip Moran’s foot. It crushed his ankle and
smashed the foot completely. All he could remember was the stricken look
on Jesus’ face as the medics injected his arm with morphine. He woke up in
the hospital two days later, his foot inside a huge bandage elevated over his
head. Jesus along with various members of his family visited Skip every
Sunday in the weeks that followed. His recovery was painfully slow and
there were complications. Parts of his wound had become infected and it
took two operations to clear up the infected areas. Then, the surgeon in
charge of his case told him that his career in the Navy was over. He was to
be given a pension, and discharged from the service. Skip was still on
crutches when his papers came through. He was still being looked after by
the navy hospital doctors and he was supposed to come back every couple
of weeks to have his foot looked at, Jesus invited him to stay at his place
until he got well enough to move. Jesus and his brother had thrown up a
sheet metal covered family room off the back of the house, and moved Skip
into what had been the old living room. Then, as the foot really began to
heal, the pain started. He woke up one night screaming in pain. Jesus and
his mother ran into the room in their nightclothes. “Quick, call the
Curandero,” Momma said. An ancient looking man soon appeared dressed
in a poncho carrying a leather backpack. Skip passed out. When he woke

up, his foot was being wrapped in a new bandage.
The Curandero is putting a poultice made of native roots and berries
on your foot,” Jesus said, “It will be changed every couple hours for a few
days, then every day for six weeks. The Curandero says you can walk again
but it will take time. You will have a limp but it will not be so bad”
The Curandero was right. It did take six weeks. Parts of the process
were painful but in the end Skip Moran was able to walk with only a slight
limp. The Doctors at the hospital were amazed. “Frankly, Mr. Moran, we
never expected you to get off crutches,” the Surgeon said, “Your recovery is
nothing short of miraculous.”
“You just have to have faith in ‘Hay-Sus’ and Juniper berries,” Skip
said as he grinned and limped away.
Within two days he was on the Super Chief from Los Angeles headed
for Chicago and New York. A week and a half later he was on the docks in
New York looking for a ship. I am going to see the world, he told himself.
The day he shipped out he met Harry Kang and, except for short periods of
time, they had been shipmates ever since.
Mid-Day Target Practice at Sea
In mid-afternoon Captain Kang announced a shooting contest. The
crew was divided into two groups. Li Song was in the first group captained

by Skip Moran. Mee-Koh was in the other, with Captain Kang. Rifles were
broken out and loaded. Two floating targets were prepared for launching
off the ship’s bow. The ships cook was appointed judge and the team
captains flipped a coin in the middle of the fore deck to see which team
would fire first. Mee-Koh’s team won the toss and elected to fire off the port
side. Mee-Koh was stationed furthest aft towards the stern of the ship. The
ready sign was given and the judge threw the target well away from the
ship. The din that followed was deafening. The target was bobbing and
reeling on the water as it streamed by. Finally it disappeared from view.
Mee-Koh had actually gotten off two shots but he wasn’t sure he’d hit
anything. Everyone was laughing and joking about the marksmanship, or
lack of it by the team. Skip Moran’s team elected to shoot from the same
port side and the target was launched. When it was all over the Cook stood
in the middle of the deck with a look of disdain. “Nobody no good,” he
announced, “No good. Big fight you all be dead by now.” Everybody laughed.
“Now worse one you,” he said pointing at Skip, “You team all dead.” His
final scorn was directed at Captain Kang’s group. “You all dead before
start. Nobody no good,” he said as he went back to the Galley.
In the general hilarity of the moment everyone on the crew seemed
united behind the Captain. Kang spoke to the crew; “The Japanese are
landing many more troops at Shanghai. It looks like they are trying to end
the war quickly. We are going there to take out our company’s people and
belongings. We may have problems getting away. I want everyone to clean

and check your personal weapons. We’ll go up river after dark. Please hang
our Shanghai nameplate and put out some disguise. Hang the chicken
coops off the stern. Furl our good sails and run up the rags. We want to look
as local as possible. Clear the gun deck for action we may need all the
firepower we can muster.”
Shanghai
By the time Golden Dragon headed into the estuary of the Wampoa
River, the ship looked like every drab Chinese Junk in the stream. Her sails
hung like slack laundry against the masts, and live chickens rooted around
in the cages hung off the stern cabin house. The ship glided along at slow
speed in the muddy brown water. A fleet of fishing boats passed by on the
port side and headed out to sea for a night of fishing in deep water. The
lights of the city could be seen up ahead where they were reflected off the
low-lying overcast. Occasionally there were brighter flashes that seemed to
come from above the clouds. Captain Kang was looking through a pair of
binoculars and commenting on what he saw to Skip Moran standing
alongside. “It’s hard to see but it looks like it could be artillery fire or some
kind of rockets going off up there,” he said, “I think it’s located beyond the
city to the northeast,”
“What’s the plan Cap,” Skip said, “Do you want to moor at our usual
spot to have a look see around before moving up closer?”
“No, I think we should act just like any other cargo vessel and go into

the Jardine go-down like we’re going to unload or pick up a cargo,” Captain
Kang said, “We can always turn around in a hurry and get out if anything
unusual is going on.”
The run up the river was over before they knew it. As they
approached the creek, a small rowboat was lowered into the water, and
Otani-san climbed in and rowed quickly to shore. He was out of sight in a
group of small boats before they turned in front of the main city side
waterfront. They passed the British cruiser that occupied the outside
mooring. All the lights on the ship were turned on and its reflection was
dazzling in the water around the big fighting ship. A British gunboat was
moored behind the cruiser.
“I guess the Brits want the Japs to see them so they won’t be fired
upon,” said Skip Moran.
“Yeah, I think that’s right,” said Captain Kang, “I am not sure that it
matters because the Japanese must have every foreign warship in the area
marked on their charts. Look, the Bund is still lighted up like a Christmas
tree. I think I can hear guns in the distance. Can you hear it?”
“Yes, it sounds like heavy artillery. There’s definitely something
going on. Is there any way to get some reliable information?”
“I am going to try asking Captain Cole what he knows. I expect the
US Navy must have some intelligence. I’ll try to call him as soon as we get
tied up.”
As the Golden Dragon moved further up the river it became darker

on both sides of the river. It became so difficult to see that the helmsman
asked for another lookout to be stationed in the wheelhouse. The ship
moved slower and slower. Gradually the outlines of the row of go-downs
became visible and finally a small light was seen over the sign of the
Jardine warehouse and the ship closed on its dock. Captain Kang ordered
the ship tied up in a set of old lines that could be cut loose on deck with an
axe if need be. Then he stepped ashore and walked to the warehouse office.
The night clerk on duty was surprised to see him. “What are you doing here
at this time of night Captain?”
“We came up river and had a radio message from Hong Kong telling
us to come here to pick up a cargo. Do you know anything about it,” Captain
Kang asked.”
“Let me look,” the clerk said, “Yes, a truck load arrived around 3
O’clock this afternoon. Do you want me to call Shanghai Stevedore and
order in a crew to help load?”
“No thanks, my crew can take care of it,” Kang responded, “I’d like to
start loading as soon as possible. We’ll put out a guard just to make sure we
don’t have any trouble. Can I use your telephone?”
“Sure, it’s in the back office there. The light switch is on the string
that comes down from the ceiling just inside the door. I’ll go out and see
your first mate about the loading.”
Captain Kang dialed the number of The Metropole hotel and waited.
When the operator answered. He asked for Ed Cole’s room. When a female

voice answered he said, “Hello, Mrs. Cole, this is Ed’s friend Captain Kang,
is he home?”
“Oh, hello. Yes, Ed’s in the study. We were listening to the radio. Let
me get him on the line.”
“Ed Cole speaking.”
“Hi Ed, How are you?”
“Harry you old salt! What are you doing in Shanghai? Haven’t you
heard we have a war going on here,” Ed said laughing.
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. The reason I’m here is that my owner
asked me to come here to take out some of the Company’s stuff away from
here. We’re supposed to leave in a couple of hours, but I am not sure that’s
going to be possible. What’s going on?”
“Well, it’s not really clear. The Japanese are conducting a major
landing operation east of the city. Apparently they are getting ready to
land troops to add to those they already have on the ground Troop trains
have been moving steadily for days. We’ve received orders to move our
Marines out of Shanghai and the Navy is getting underway. My boat is
supposed to leave in a day or so. We’re going back to the Philippines. I’m
really worried because I haven’t been able to get a ship to take Elsie to
Hong Kong or somewhere else safe. She’s hoping to get to Manila.”
“Well, it might just work out. We were scheduled to go to Manila
when we diverted and came up here. Look, I can take her with us if she’s
game to put up with some pretty primitive conditions. How soon can she be

ready,” Captain Kang said.
“She’s ready. Where is your ship,” Cole said, “I think we can get out of
here in an hour.”
“We’re tied up at the Jardine go-down on a little street off the Bund
road called “Whiskey Creek.” Any cab driver will know where it is. Just get
the concierge at the hotel to write the name in Chinese on a card and give it
to the driver. You’d better go to the ship with her. Wear your uniform and
ask for Skip Moran when you get to the ship. Elsie can bunk in my cabin.
Just put her luggage in there and make her comfortable. I’ll be there as
soon as I make contact with a client of ours. If you have time, wait for me,
and we’ll talk when I get back.”
“We really appreciate this Harry. Be careful in the streets tonight
there are a lot of strange people running around out there,” Said Cole.
Kang laughed, “Well even to an old China hand like yourself they
may look strange, but they are just a bunch of Asian folks looking for some
place to hide. I’ll see you soon.”
I hope my laugh won’t ring hollow in my own ears, Kang thought as
he went back to the ship. The crew was already busy moving heavy crates
into the ship’s hold. Skip Moran was checking them off as they went
aboard. “Skip, I just talked to Ed Cole. The Japanese are moving one
helluva lot of additional troops ashore. The US Navy is moving out of China.
The marines are shipping out headed back to the Philippines, and the
Admiral has ordered the Navy back to Cavite base at Manila. Ed’s

Submarine is leaving in the morning. We’re going to take Mrs. Cole with us.
They’ll be here any minute. Put Elsie Cole in my cabin and make her
comfortable”
“Okay, Cap. I guess you are going over to see Tu. Give that old
bastard my best regards like a bullet in the brain,” said Skip, “Are you
going to take someone with you?”
“No, It’s better if I just call him on the phone,” Harry said, “Just keep
the fires burning. We may have to run out of here in a hurry.”
Harry tried several times to get Tu Yueh Sheng on the phone. Then
the operator a Tu’s office told him that Mr. Tu Yueh Sheng was busy. I’ll bet
he’s busy he thought. He’s probably making love to his favorite Japanese
officer clients.
He found Ed and Elsie Cole in his cabin on the Golden Dragon. They
had the harried look of two people in flight. Elsie’s luggage was heaped in a
pile in one corner. “Well, you people look like elegant refugees on a
honeymoon,” Captain Kang said, “How are you Ed, Elsie?”
“We’ve been feeling a lot better since you called and offered Elsie a
ride out of Shanghai,” Ed said, “I was afraid I’d have to leave her in
Shanghai with no way to get out. I think half the population of foreigners
are wanting to get away.”
“I can imagine it must be hell at the steamship offices,” Harry said,
“What have you heard Ed?”
“Yes, Admiral Stark is pulling the fleet and the marines back to the

Philippines. Our position here is completely untenable. Not enough force
and a big policy vacuum you’d have to say.”
“Yeah, well call it modern warfare,” said Harry, “its based on
obliteration. Kill everything in your path is the philosophy. The genie is out
of the bottle and it’ll never get put back,” then he turned to Elsie, “You look
more beautiful than the last time I saw you Elsie, what’s been going on.”
“Why Captain Kang, whatever do you mean,” Elsie laughed. “Well, I
guess I’ll just have to ‘fess up. Ed and I are going to be parents. Isn’t that
wonderful.”
“That’s great Elsie,” Kang responded, “If it’s a boy you can call it
Harry.”
“Yeah, an if it’s a girl I guess we can call it Harriet, Ed said
laconically.
“Oh, you boys are all the same,” Elsie said, “It’s sure to be a girl and
I’m going to name her, Blondie.”
“Good for you, Elsie. Well I’ve got a couple of things to do before we head out.
Why don’t you two say your good-byes and I’ll finish up? Then we can have a drink, and
Golden Dragon can push off.”
One more thing to do, Harry told himself as he entered the night
clerk’s office. “Can I use your use the telephone again?”
“Yes, Sir. You know where it is. Help yourself.”
Captain Kang dialed the home of Li’s office manager. “Hello, Mr.
Chang.” He waited a minute. “Yes, this is Captain Kang. I am calling to see if

you want to join the ship, and go to Hong Kong with us.”
“No, I can’t go. My mother is too old to travel and I can’t leave her
here alone. You understand,” Chang said, “Please tell Mr. Li I am sorry but I
just can’t leave here.”
“I understand,” Harry said, “I’ll let Mr. Li know. If you decide later
that you want to get out let us know and if it’s possible I will come back and
pick you and your family up.”
“Thank you for calling Captain Kang,” Chang said, “I will be in touch
with you from the office. Good luck. Goodbye.”
Skip Moran was in the engine room, when Harry found him. “Just
adjusting the valves Cap. I want to make sure if we have to run for it that
everything is snubbed up.”
Good going Skip. Listen I want you to take Li Song and Mee-Koh and
have them help you make up our usual gift package for Tu. Let’s put in a
little more than usual as a final goodbye I don’t think we’re going to be
seeing him again. We’ll shove off as soon as you’re done and we get Ed Cole
back on shore. I’m going to have a quick drink in my cabin with them
before we leave.”
“Okay. How about fifty kilos, and an extra ten thrown in for good
measure? Does that seem about right.”
“Just the ticket.” Harry grinned, “And don’t put any of that stuff
with the strychnine in the mix.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. Hadn’t thought of that,” Skip said.

Harry laughed. “Still no love lost there I can see.”
Harry hated the opium trade but he was also as a realist. Along the
China coast it had been used like money for a very long time. If you had
cheap access to the stuff the way Paul Li did it was much less expensive
than gold for the purpose of bribery and it seemed to cement a relationship
faster and much permanently than could money. In spite of his personal
distaste for the opium he had been handling it for Li’s Company since his
earliest days. He knew that Tu Yueh Sheng could not be handled without it
and he detested Tu Yueh Sheng for making it that way.
With Elsie and Ed Cole sitting together on the edge of the bunk,
Harry opened a bottle of Champagne and made a toast. “Here’s to a safe
voyage, and good luck for Ed and the USS S-38.”
“Wait a minute! You forgot Elsie,” Cole said.
“Well, I know she’s safe. But you’re going to sea in that leaky old tub
you call a submarine,” Kang said, “What way to travel do you think is
better, Elsie?”
“All I can say is, right now, I’m where I want to be, with you big
strong men,” Elsie said.
“How’s that for class,” Cole beamed, “She’s a smooth talking
Southern girl for sure.”
Elsie Cole got up and did a little curtsy. “Thank you kind Sirs, for the
complements. Now, it’s time to go. I can tell that Captain Kang is in a hurry
to get underway.”

On their way off the ship Harry said, “That’s a terrific girl you’ve got,
Ed.”
“Yes, she’s first rate. When I first came out here I didn’t want her to
come but she insisted, said she didn’t marry me to mope around alone in
South Carolina. She’s been a real help with the other officer’s wives. Some
of them just can’t adjust to life out here. But, I’ve come to respect her
judgment. She’s given me the best of advice about the stuff that goes on
with a crew of people from all walks of life. I’m crazy about her as you can
tell.”
“Don’t worry Ed, I’ll get her safely to Manila. We should make Hong
Kong in four days, and then I’ll either put her on the White steamer or she
can go with me.”
“That’s terrific! Harry, we go back a bit don’t we. I just want to say,
you are a real friend,” Cole said, “Fair winds, skipper. I’ll see you in
Manila.”
Golden Dragon backed away from the go-down, turned, and headed
downstream. Captain Kang was standing on wheelhouse next to the
helmsman. The lookout on the bow had a searchlight aimed low on the
water. “Watch out for floating objects on the water. We don’t want to hit a
mine. No telling what you might find in the swill tonight,” Kang said. He
turned and wrote their departure time, 0245 hrs, on the log. As they
passed the Bund the lights were still on, the streets crowded with people.
The British Cruiser came slowly abreast on the starboard side. As they

came even with the creek where they expected Otani-san they slowed and
let the momentum of the stream carry the ship forward. They saw Otani-
san’s signal; three short flashes of light and turned toward the spot. Within
minutes they saw his slender figure standing up in the small boat waving
his arms. Quick hands threw him a line and within seconds they had Otani-
san, and the dinghy on deck. Captain Kang gave the order to proceed down
river and went down to the deck.
“Otani-san was standing in the loam of the deck light. He braced,
with a grin, and threw Captain Kang a salute. “Otani-san reporting for duty,
Sir! God, I thought you’d never come. I’ve been waiting there for almost
two hours,” he said.
“How about a shot of Mao Tai and some hot tea,” Kang replied, “What
happened?”
“Good trip. I met my brother. Got to him just before he left for a party
at the Mee Kao Mee. He said an army general was there, being entertained
by Tu Yueh Sheng. I asked him about the situation and he said that the
stuff we heard was for real. More troops are pouring ashore and reports
have been coming into the Consulate all day. It seems the Chinese are
putting up stiff resistance in the north. My brother expects the Japanese
army to start landing more troops tomorrow. There are 5 Divisions on
transports just waiting to come ashore. He thinks they can scrape up more
from Japan and Korea if they’re needed as many as fifteen to eighteen
divisions.”

“Any news about the Japanese Navy,” Kang asked.
“The navy is supporting the army with at least three aircraft
carriers and the usual assortment of big ships. I think there are one
battleship and a couple of heavy cruisers. Planes from the carriers have
been flying all day. Bombing and shelling Chinese positions up north
continuously.”
“Did your brother have any news from Tokyo?”
“The Japanese Cabinet has been meeting continuously. The Emperor
has appointed some kind of “super cabinet” my brother said. He thinks this
is the beginning of an all out push to end war by pounding Chang Kai-shek
into submission. He is personally opposed, of course, but he cannot say so
to his superiors.”
“I understand. Well I think he is correct in his conclusions. Thanks
for going to talk to him. Why don’t you get some rest? We will be heading
home to Hong Kong.”

Chapter 8
Gun Battle in the Wampoa River
Harry called Skip Moran to the wheelhouse. “Skip, I’ve got a funny
feeling Tu Yueh Sheng might just send his gang out to try and knock us off
when we leave the river mouth. He must suspect we may have a load of
gold and opium on board. Let’s set up the heavy machine guns and get the
crew ready to repel any attack we might get. I don’t trust that son of a
bitch.”
“Right on, Captain. I’ll get set up to blow the bastards out of the
water.”
Captain Kang went to his cabin to talk with Elsie. He knocked on the
door and went in. “Hi, Elsie. Just as a precaution, I’d like to have you stay
down in the bunk in case any disturbance breaks out. We may have trouble
from the pirate gangs that inhabit this part of the coast. We’ve got plenty of
surprises ready for anyone that tries it but I don’t want you to get hit by a
stray bullet. It probably won’t happen but there’s no use taking chances.”
“Really, do you think there’s going to be trouble,” Elsie said, “I can
handle a rifle and I’m a pretty good shot. I used to go deer hunting with my
daddy all the time.”
“Elsie, if I let you do that, and Ed Cole found out about it he’d clean
my clock. You just stay down, protect your hide and my reputation.”
“Well, okay. But you’d better give me a hand gun in case anyone
sneaks aboard and tries to come in this cabin,” Elsie replied, “I don’t like

feeling naked up here without having something’ to protect myself with. “
Kang grinned and handed her the 32 Automatic from his pea coat
pocket, “Here, have this, it’s loaded and shoots pretty good at short range.
Just stay down that’s the main thing.”
Twenty minutes later the lookout called the wheelhouse. “Captain
there are two motor boats heading this way at high speed.”
“Got it. Skip they’re on their way. Man all stations we may come
under attack in 5 minutes. Helmsman hard a port! Let’s show ‘em a trick
or two.”
Golden Dragon spun on her heels and increased speed. “When they
get within range let me take the wheel and you put that spotlight on ‘em,”
Kang said. Then over the intercom he said, “All hands, we’re going to light
them up. Let ‘em have it when you’ve got them in your sights. Fire at will.”
“I think they’re in range Captain,” the helmsmen said.
“Okay! Put that light on ‘em. Okay! Skip I’m going to steer across
their bows. We’ll try to do that old naval maneuver and cross the tee.”
Skip Moran’s voice came over the intercom. “I can see muzzle
flashes Cap. They’re shooting at us.”
“Got it,” Kang said, “I am coming about NOW!”
As Captain Kang swung the wheel over, Golden Dragon veered back
to starboard. As the course changed the two fast approaching motorboats
were revealed in the blinding light of the search lamp. Skip Moran let out a
loud whoop and opened up with the heavy machine gun. Its tracer bullets

flew over the water and disappeared into the lead boat. An arc of flame
sprayed up from the stricken hull and moments later there was an
explosion that blew the boat skyward. The second boat swerved around the
exploding boat but kept coming at them, spitting flame from a machine gun
that sprayed Golden Dragon with bullets. The sound of gunfire from the
crew of Golden Dragon was deafening. Suddenly the second boat seemed to
die in the water as it turned sharply to one side and then stopped in the
water. As they watched, it settled in the water and then sank. There were
no survivors to be seen. A cheer went up from the crew of Golden Dragon.
Then Elsie Cole came running into the wheelhouse. “Captain, I watched the
whole thing from the window of the cabin. That was great! Good Shooting!”
“Elsie I promise not to tell Ed you disobeyed a direct order, if you
promise not to tell him you saw what just went on.” Captain Kang said
sternly. Over the intercom he said, “Good shooting crew. Like they say
practice makes perfect. Skip, come up here. Let’s paddle Elsie Cole’s
behind.”
“Not on your life, Harry Kang, I am going to bed,” Elsie said as she
disappeared out the door.
The feeling of triumph did not last when the smoke of battle cleared
two of the crew laid on the deck badly wounded, and Li Mee-Koh was dead.
Li Song sat holding his lifeless body sobbing quietly. Harry and Skip finally
persuaded him to give up Mee-Koh and they had the quartermaster sew up
a canvas for a burial at sea.

“Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to take a pot shot
at us,” Captain Kang said, “Let’s steer the same one hundred-fathom line
going back.” Then he entered a short description of the incident in the
logbook and left the wheelhouse to perform the burial ceremony. It was all
over in a short time and Harry went to his cabin to send Paul Li a radio
message.
“Sorry to bother you Elsie but I’ve got to use the radio,” Captain
Kang said as he entered the cabin.
“Don’t worry skipper,” Elsie responded from the bunk, “I am way too
upset and excited to sleep. It’s a shame about the casualties, Harry, Did you
know that young man well?”
“No, not well. He was the nephew of my partner in Hong Kong. I hate
like hell to have to send him such lousy news but that’s what I’ve got to do.
These are pretty dangerous waters out here and, it pays big dividends to
try and stay ahead of the game but some times someone loses.”
“Where did those boats come from, and why did they attack this ship
in particular,” Elsie asked.
“There’s no way to be absolutely sure. But I have an idea that they
were sent by a gangster, named Tu. He knew we were leaving tonight and
guessed about the cargo we might be carrying. I talked with him earlier
tonight and I just had a hunch his pirates might show up on our way out,”
Captain Kang answered.
“You mean you told him you were leaving.”

“No point in not telling him,” Kang said, “He’ got a very efficient
network of spies in Shanghai, and he was bound to know if we tried to slip
away. He pays an awful lot of people to keep their eyes on things.”
“How is that possible,” Elsie said, “I mean that’s a lot of information
he’s got to keep track of.”
“Old man Tu Yueh Sheng runs the thing like a business. He’s got
dispatch offices, maps of the city, and a staff of operators that answer calls
continuously. A lot of the calls that come in are from just plain folks in
trouble. Tu’s boys go out and help people out and then the people they help
are forever indebted to the Green Gang. He puts a small weekly tax on
folks. If they don’t pay they get beaten up or have windows smashed. It’s
very vicious and efficient. He takes in millions each month. And, that’s just
a small corner of his operation.”
“What about legitimate business like Jardine Matheson? They’ve got
textile mills here. They don’t operate like that, do they,” Elsie asked.”
Kang laughed, “Elsie, they’re the worst. They run satanic mills. They
employ over two hundred thousand people kids ten and twelve years old
slave away in their factories. Where do you think they get those kids? Tu’s
gang, and a lot of little independent gangs, kidnap children, or pay their
parents, and bring them into Jardine’s factories. They put young girls into
brothels. The British managers know what’s going on. They just don’t care.
It’s the worst manifestation of capitalism. I’m no communist but I have to
admit they have a point.”

“I had no idea,” Elsie said, “I’ve meet the Keswick brothers, Tony and
John, they seem like such upright people. I can’t imagine.”
“The Taiwan, Tony Keswick,” Kang said, “He’d cut his own mother’s
heart out to make money. Jardine Matheson were first into the Opium
trade back in the old days, and they haven’t had clean hands since.”
“It’s hard to imagine,” Elsie said, “I’ve wondered about the rickshaw
men. They are so pathetic. Last week I was going to the club in one and the
man just fell down in the street and died. I tried to get a policeman to help,
but two men just carried him away, and there was a new man between the
poles almost instantly. I felt terrible.”
“The rickshaws belong to the Green gang,” Kang said, “They hook the
pullers on opium, and from that point on they are just slaves to be used up
pulling other humans around. I never ride in one unless I absolutely have
to.”
“I guess I’ll just never understand China,” Elsie said, “Americans are
just too naive. I know slavery was bad in our own country before the Civil
War but this has got to be much worse.”
“Well, if the Japanese have their way it’s going to get a lot worse if
conditions in Korea and Manchuria are any example,” Kang said, “I just
wish Britain and the United States would stand up to them now before it
gets completely out of hand.”
“Ed says that President Roosevelt and the Congress are just too
preoccupied with the depression and the War in Europe to care about

what’s going on out here,” Elsie said, “My own folks are absolutely opposed
to us getting into another war. My dad says we should stick to our own part
of the world and damn the Europeans and everyone else.”
“Well, they must be happy because that’s exactly what our country is
doing right now,” Harry said.
Elsie started to cry. Captain Kang went over and put his arm around
her shoulder. “Don’t worry he said, Ed’s going to be okay. I can imagine that
he’s just about the best sub skipper in the US Navy.”
“Oh God, Harry, I just worry myself to death every time he goes out
in that thing. You can’t imagine how antiquated it is. It’s a constant
struggle just to keep it going. I know Ed loves the damned thing, but it
really is a disaster waiting to happen.” She struggled to sit up, and then
smiled, “That damned thing leaks.” They both laughed.
“That’s a girl Elsie,” Harry said, “Actually the S class subs are
damned fine vessels for a submarine that was built in 1923. Now, if you’ll
excuse me, I’ve got to send this message Hong Kong.”
Later, Harry found Skip Moran and Li Song in the galley seated at
the table. “I sent your Uncle a message,” he said, “Are you okay?”
“I just don’t understand what happened,” Li Song said, One minute
he was standing next to me and then before I knew it he was lying on the
deck.”
“Yes, that’s the way death is,” Harry said, “Fortunately, it looks like
he died instantly. That’s better than dying slowly in a lot of pain.”

“You should get some sleep,” Skip said looking at Li Song, “If you
don’t mind I’d like you to help me in the engine room tomorrow morning.
I’ll wake you up.” When the Li Song was gone he said, “Some gritty kids.
When the shooting started they were right there on the rail with rifles in
their hands. It’s a damned shame, what happened.”
“Yeah, I know Paul Li wouldn’t be wasting any time and money on
them if he didn’t think they would turn out okay. They may be family to
him, but he’s a pretty hard-eyed realist where people are concerned. He
sent that silly brother of his packing pretty fast after one or two screw-ups.
His only comment to me about him was that he didn’t want people who
weren’t serious, around.”
“He’s tough but he’s fair,” Skip said, “What’s this Cole woman like.”
“She’s a winner, Skip,” Harry said, “She’s smart as a whip, game for
most anything, and loyal. When I went to the cabin to tell her to keep her
head down when those pirates showed up she wanted me to give her a rifle
so she could help us fend them off. Ed Cole’s lucky to be married to a
woman that good.”
It had been a long and ultimately depressing day, Harry Kang
checked on the two wounded crew members, and finding them resting
comfortably, returned to the wheelhouse to make one last check on Golden
Dragon’s course before turning in for the night. As he drifted off he thought
of Veronique Moitessier and his days with her in Indochina. He would be
going back there soon. That was one thing he was sure of.

Chapter 9
Kamakura & Tokyo: Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku
On the seacoast just south of Tokyo, navy Captain Kenji Watanabe’s
house at the beach was bathed in the half- light of a gray morning. In a
small tatami room a guest, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, lay dreaming after
a restless night.
His dream locked on a scene a few months before in Tokyo Bay. It
was the 2,600th anniversary of the accession of mythic Emperor Jimmu,
the nation’s first supreme leader. Admiral Yamamoto selected to be in
charge of an Imperial fleet review stood next to Emperor Hirohito on the
deck of the battleship Hiei. The lead ship, the cruiser Takao moves out and
the Hiei follows escorted by cruisers Kako and Furutaka. As the Hiei
passed the lead battleship Nagato, its entire crew lined the sides. All the
major ships of the combined fleet were anchored in the waters off
Yokohama. He could hear his own voice explaining our navy is the largest
in the Pacific, third largest in the world. The total tonnage here today is
596,060 tons. Then a swirling fog crossed the horizon, the scene faded, and
the ships were no more.
Yamamoto woke with a start, lay motionless for a moment, then
raised himself on one elbow and leaned over to slide the shoji panel open
and look out at the sea. The water was steel gray, and looked foreboding.
It’s a good day for a brisk walk, he thought.
He called for his friend Captain Watanabe Kenji. “Ken-chan! How

about some tea.”
“Hai, Chotto matte,” Watanabe responded, “It’s dull day, Admiral. Did
you sleep alright?”
“Iie, not good” Yamamoto replied. “Let’s take a later train. I’d like to
walk on the beach a bit before we head back to the city.”
“Yes, Sir!”
The two men donned traditional work clothes and headed down the
sandy path to the beach. At the narrow pedestrian underpass where the
beach road crossed the path, they hunched, over squeezed through, and
emerged on the sand on the other side of the sea wall, then made their way
by the stacks of nets, and fishing boats resting on the sand. A stray dog
barked at them and then ran away. The beach was deserted and the choppy
surf made its way to shore in a light wind.
They walked south towards Enoshima in silence for a while. Then
Yamamoto said, “When they said they wanted me to take this new job as
Commander in Chief of the fleet, I thought it might be better to stay at the
Navy Bureau to try and influence affairs. Finally, they put things in a way
that I couldn’t honorably refuse the Fleet job. Now when the affairs of the
nation are getting out of hand I am too far away to be able to offer any
useful opinion. It’s a damned shame.”
Watanabe looked at his chief and said, “I know you have been
troubled lately. I woke in the middle of the night and saw your light on. It’s
too bad you are loosing sleep over it.”

“There is simply no good. Look, it’s not because I fear the military
power of the United States and Great Britain, but because there is no able
man among the authorities who understands what danger we are in, and I
fear that this crisis might be an unprecedented threat to the Empire.”
“Hitler and Ribbentrop conspire with Matsuoka. Baka! That fool
hasn’t the good sense to understand that they don’t give a damn about
Japan. The rest of the fools believe that Japan has the right to take
anything we have the strength to take, and a divine mandate to rule Asia.
How dangerous the future of the Empire looks now,” Yamamoto exclaimed.
“Chief, I checked with the Quartermaster’s Office. They are having
problems getting fuel for the fleet. The army has first rights, and now that
they’ve committed 15 new divisions to Mainland China we may not even
have enough fuel to complete our planned exercises.”
“I’ll give the order to cut out half of the planned days at sea. We must
have sufficient supplies of oil on hand if the order to attack is given,”
Yamamoto said, “Remind me to call Admiral Nagano when we get to
Tokyo.”
“What will the outcome be,” Watanabe asked.
“I am afraid we have no course but to rely on the Emperor’s virtue. I
pray to the Gods, that Tenno knows what the situation is and will restrain
the hotheads in the government who love war too much,” Yamamoto said,
“As for me, I have no choice but to continue the work of getting the fleet
ready in case the worst happens.”

Later, standing on the platform at Kamakura waiting for the train, a
cloud of steam from the locomotive pulling into the station enveloped them
both. Captain Watanabe had a concerned look as they entered the 1st class
compartment and he said to himself ‘The chief looks tired, and more
worried than I’ve ever seen him.’
The Navy building in the Kasumegaseiki district of Tokyo was an
imposing red brick structure, in keeping with the Navy’s status. Even
better, in the minds of the personnel who worked there, it was conveniently
located near the best clubs and restaurants where the elite in the
government bureaucracy could relax and communicate with their friends
and co-workers after long days in the office.
Later that same afternoon Yamamoto invited his friend Admiral
Shimada Shigetoru, now Navy Minister, to dinner at Umenoshima a
restaurant managed by Yamamoto’s mistress, Kawai Chieyoko, a famous
retired geisha.
Yamamoto was the first to arrive. He went to Chieyoko’s small
tatami room at the rear of the building to take off his uniform and put on
more comfortable clothes. As Chieyoko helped him dress he said, “Let’s
have the ‘un-obtainable’ Sake Shimbo-san sent from Niigata. I want
Shimada-san to know that he is still one of my best friends.
“I understand,” Chieyoko said, “I will ask chef to make Fugu as a
symbol of your feeling. Would you like some beer now, before he gets here?
“O’negaishimas’,” Yamamoto said, “Let’s you and I make a toast.”

Chieyoko returned with a tray, kneeled down on the tatami and
poured two glasses of Sapporo Beer. “Isoroku-san, will you being staying at
my small house tonight,” she asked, sipping slowly.
He smiled and raised his glass. “You know Chieyoko, I am happiest
when I am in your place. It’s truly home to me.”
Chieyoko blushed, and looked down, “You know you may come to me
anytime, and I will be honored by your presence. I must go now and attend
to a problem in the kitchen.”
Yamamoto nodded assent and sat sipping his beer while he
contemplated the day he had decided to become Chieyoko’s patron. He’d
been seeing a series of famous Geisha, all of them in the front rank of
women esteemed by the social and political leaders of Japan. He felt shy
and even occasionally uncomfortable when a geisha who tried to help him
while he was eating mentioned his disability, a left hand shattered in an
accident during the fleet’s engagement in Tsushima straits. On such
occasions he became gruff and angry. On the fateful day he had been
drinking heavily in company with Chieyoko and some other geisha and
friends when he fumbled his rice bowel and dropped it on the tatami.
Chieyoko picked it up and handed to him with a laugh that completely
disarmed him. For reasons he never understood he asked her if she liked
cheese. She nodded and he thought she’d blushed. In an instant he said,
“There is a buffet at the Otani-san Hotel on Sunday afternoon. If you meet
me there I will treat you.”

She did not reply, but his friend Horie who was sitting next to her on
the other side said, “You should take him up on that offer. That’s the first
time I’ve ever heard the Admiral invite anyone to a meal when he offered
to pay.”
Yamamoto arrived at the hotel at and found Chieyoko standing by
the door to the dinning room in a green Kimono of a style that was common
in his home province in Kyushu.
“I wasn’t sure you were serious about your offer but I hoped you
would come. I am deeply honored,” she said.
“You have good manners,” he responded, “I like that in a person.”
He remembered their conversation. It lasted all afternoon and from
the beginning he found himself able to talk about himself in a completely
open way. Chieyoko responded with a delicacy that was inviting and
friendly. It deeply touched him. When they parted in the early evening it
was understood by both of them that they had chosen each other. It was a
relationship that had deepened greatly in the months that followed.
The Umenoshima was renowned for its Kaiseki dinners, multiple
courses of small dishes, each one a delicacy. Fugu, Japanese blowfish, was a
deadly poison if not carefully prepared. Kiyoko, a young Geisha that
Chieyoko had selected to serve Yamamoto and his guest, served it as the
piece de resistance. Shimada was impressed, “This is the best Fugu I’ve had
in years,” he said, “Look at the way it’s cut. It’s so thin you can see the color
of the glaze on the dish. Perfect!”

“Kiyoko, would you please clear the table. I would like you to serve
the Sake now,” Yamamoto said.
Chieyoko entered the room and served the Sake herself, “This is
from Admiral Yamamoto’s friend in Niigata, Shimada-san,” she said,
pouring a crystal clear liquid into a square wooden sake cup. “I hope you
enjoy it.”
The Sake was a big hit. Both men relaxed and lit cigars. “You know
Isoroku, I haven’t enjoyed a meal like this in a long time,” Shimada said.
Yes, these are difficult times,” Yamamoto responded. “I expect you’ll
be wanting to know what I intend to recommend at Tomorrow’s conference
with the Ministry department heads.”
Well, I know you didn’t ask me to dinner with our usual game of
Shogi in mind,” Shimada laughed.
“No, that’s true. What I have to say is not going to be liked by
anybody but I want to tell you frankly what I think. I know you will have
questions but you must know that I’ve thought a long time about this and
what I believe is sincere. There is no politics in this at all.”
Yamamoto continued, “It is possible to be blinded by hope. A man, a
whole country, can want something so much that reason flies away like a
bird. I believe that almost everyone in authority, especially the Army,
thinks that just because Japan wants to unite China and the rest of Asia
under our one banner, that dream is possible. ‘Consider it done’ the Army
has been saying since 1931 and here it is almost ten years later and it’s not

done. The invasion of China, piece meal at first, is now a general war. The
timetable of victory keeps slipping. Our own resources are unbelievably
strained. The Combined Fleet under my command is constantly short of
bunker oil. This morning I had to give the order to Admiral Nagumo to cut
the training exercises we had planned in half.”
Yamamoto paused, then hurried on, “Now, we are told, negotiations
with the Americans, are deadlocked. President Roosevelt embargoed
aviation gasoline and shipments of heavy oil are slowed way down. My staff
estimates are that we have 90 days worth of fuel in reserve at best. How
long can this situation go on before we are forced to back down and be
humiliated in a way that nobody can accept?”
“I was aware that fuel supplies were in a poor state,” Shimada said,
“But I haven’t seen the details?”
“You haven’t been told because the staff officers of the Ministry who
are supposed to report honestly to you are afraid to say anything. If the
news isn’t good say nothing has become a way of life. Everyone’s terrified
of being accused of being called disloyal or, worse defeatist,” Yamamoto
said, “Thank the Gods I am old enough not to care what people say so I can
say what I think.”
“Sadly, what you say is true, Shimada said, “Every day when they
report to me, I listen, and then ask them if there is anything more they
wish to say. They say no, but cannot look me in the eye. Even officers I have
known since our days in the naval academy cannot speak the truth. We are

letting our beloved service down, Isoroku.”
“Under present circumstances, there is nothing to be done. We must
carry on as honorably as we can,” Yamamoto responded, “What I am going
to say tomorrow is this. Japan cannot, in my opinion win a protracted war
with the United States. At best, given a perfectly planned start to the war,
we can last at most eighteen months. Then if for some unforeseen reason
the United States sues for peace first we will survive as a nation. In my
opinion I do not think that will happen. Frankly, I do not think we can win
in the long run. Even if we strike south and take over the Dutch East Indies
and Malaya it will be some time before we can exploit the resources there.
Our forces, admittedly the best in Asia right now, will slowly be starved
without oil. Food for the people will get in ever shorter supply than it is
now.”
Yamamoto went on, “The United States is a big country. I have seen it
for myself. It takes six days on a train to travel from New York to San
Francisco. There are oil fields in Pennsylvania, thousands of wells pumping
day and night in Texas and California. The American steel mills are huge;
pouring out tonnage’s unheard of in Japan. Their arsenals and factories
have enormous unused capacity they can mobilize in a time of war. Critics
of my position will argue that the Americans lack war spirit. They may be
right but war is much more than spirit.”
Shimada stopped him, “So, if we grant that all you say is true what
can be done? What do your staff planners say?”

“Well, the first option is to carry on in the direction we have been
going. The fleet is really in the pink of condition. When war comes, as it
probably will, we fight a defensive war against the British and the
Americans. When our fuel is gone we will have no choice but to scuttle our
ships and commit Seppuku and die by our own hand. To be sure, we will
probably get lucky and win one or two small battles at sea. We will, if we are
prudent, send out small contingents to do battle, and keep the main force
whole for decisive strikes against the enemy when we are sure we can win
major sea battles. None of us will look very heroic and in the end, the
results will still be as I have said.
“You mean, in the end we will be crushed by the superior resources
of the Unites States,” Shimada asked.
“Exactly! The timing of our defeat is not predictable. The fact of it is
entirely predictable. Best estimate is that we will have a year and a half at
the outside,” Yamamoto replied, “But there is another option By striking at
the heart of the American Navy in a single decisive blow, we might be able
buy enough time to develop the resources in Southeast Asia. There are
those on my staff who hold the opinion that the United States, with its
forces crippled beyond belief, in the Pacific, will sue for peace. They have a
point, but it is based on logic and not sustainable by empirical proof. I
myself don’t believe that Americans are made of such soft stuff. I have
lived among them in my time in the United States. They may seem
frivolous to a Japanese from a distance, but they fought bravely in France

in the Great War, and as a betting man I would not want to put my money
on this interpretation of their reaction.”
“Where would we strike,” Shimada asked.
When the war started in Europe,” Yamamoto responded, “the Asiatic
fleet was recalled and a good part of it was sent through the Panama Canal
to the Atlantic. The remaining US forces are based in Hawaii at Pearl
Harbor. With careful planning and stealth it may be possible to destroy the
Pacific Fleet there. My idea is to assemble a strike force at Etoroku island
and then at about 43 degrees North turn East and steam to a point north of
Pearl Harbor, turn and run down to 32 degrees North 157 degrees South
and launch our planes. A concentrated air attack with torpedo planes and
dive-bombers can wreak havoc on the American Pacific Fleet if we achieve
complete surprise.
“Give me some more details.”
“We can create the impression that the fleet is in the Japan Inland
Sea on maneuvers by sending two battleships and some destroyers there
from Sasebo. The NKK line steamship Nikka, which makes regular trips to
San Francisco, can be sent on a trip to the West Coast. We can circulate
press reports that the ship is being sent by our government to return
Japanese nationals living in the United States to Japan. When the ship gets
to Hawaii the captain can be given orders to simply turn around and come
back to Japan. Given our plans for the invasion of Indochina we can time
the two events to concentrate attention to our operations in the South. In

these ways we can screen the attack force from detection. Of course strict
radio silence must be observed by the attack squadron, both the ships, and
their aircraft,” Yamamoto added.
Shimada was shocked by the audacity of the idea. He sat
contemplating his sake cup. “Of course we would have to get Imperial
approval for such a plan,” he said, “That may not be easy. The army is sure
to be opposed on the grounds that their theatre of operations is more
important or some other equally stupid argument,” he said.
Yes, I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Yamamoto said, “The only
thing I can think of is that there must be some way to trick them into
looking the other way.
Chieyoko knocked before entering the room. “Gomenasai, Excuse me,
Captain Watanabe is here to see you Admiral,” she said, “He says it’s
important and begs you to give him a few minutes.”
“Ah, your Watanabe,” Shimada said, looking at Yamamoto, “Yes, yes!
Send him in.”
Captain Watanabe, who normally smiled a lot, and was the best of
companions, looked worried as he knelt at the door bowing and begging
their forgiveness for intruding. When the formalities had been exchanged,
Watanabe said, “Admiral Yamamoto, General Homma has been calling since
you left the office. I told him that I would try to find you and have you call
him back. He called me about a half an hour ago and I told him you were
having dinner here with Minister Shimada. He’s on his way here in a car. I

wanted to warn you before he gets here, but I couldn’t get through to the
restaurant by phone.”
Yamamoto was surprised, “What does he want? Did he say?”
“He didn’t say,” Watanabe said, “It must be an urgent matter the way
he kept on calling.”
“Never, mind, Yamamoto responded, “He’s pretty level headed. What
ever it is it won’t be long before we know what he wants.”
Watanabe excused himself and left. The two senior men sat silently
thinking over their conversation. Yamamoto called for Keiko and asked for
more Sake.
Yamamoto was still thinking about the Army. “There are rumors
that General Tojo is likely to be asked to become Prime Minister. Have you
any news on that score?”
“Oh, ‘The razor’,” Shimada said, “I don’t know the man. Before I
came up to Tokyo, I’d been in the Fleet so long, I didn’t know any of the
current crop of Army men in Tokyo.”
“I met him once in Manchuria,” Yamamoto said, “He was inspector
general with the Kwantung Army. He’s a stickler for detail. His staff hated
him. In my experience officers like that are not very good field
commanders. The General Staff appreciates men like that because they get
their reports in on time. As you and I know what’s in the reports may not
be very significant. I can’t imagine anyone would appoint him Prime
Minister but stranger things have happened in the past. Look at me, who

would think that I should be made Commander in Chief of the Combined
Fleet.”
Shimada sat up straight, looked Yamamoto sternly in the eye, and
said, “Can the great Admiral Yamamoto be questioning the judgment of the
Minister of the Navy.” They had a long chuckle over Shimada’s joke.
General Masaharu Homma was a long time friend of Yamamoto’s.
During the ‘Great War’ in Europe he’d served with the British on the
Western Front. He’d been selected for the job because he spoke nearly
perfect English with an Oxonian accent. They met at the Japanese
Embassy in London in 1924 when Yamamoto was on a tour of Europe with
Admiral Ide. The two young officers shared the same breadth of curiosity
about the world outside Japan, and similar tastes in gambling, women and
food. They corresponded when Yamamoto was a student at Harvard on his
first trip to America and continued writing at more infrequent occasions
thereafter. When he arrived at the restaurant he dismissed his car and
driver. After entering he handed his card to the attendant and waited. On
seeing his name, Chieyoko hurried to the front. “General Homma welcome
to Umenoshima. Admiral Yamamoto is waiting for you. This way please,”
she said, indicating that he should follow her to Yamamoto’s room.
Ah! General Homma, it has been too long. How are you?” Then
Yamamoto introduced Shimada and Homma. The two men bowed deeply
and Shimada said, “It’s good to meet you General Homma, Admiral
Yamamoto has always spoken highly of you. I would like to be able to stay

but I promised to have a drink in Kanda with a friend before I go home so
I’ll take leave of you Gentleman. See you in the morning Yamamoto-san.
Let’s talk again before the meeting begins.”
Following Shimada’s departure. The two men settled down over
Sake. They toasted each other’s good health. Then, General Homma spoke,
“I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon Iso-kun.”
“That’s what Captain Watanabe said,” Yamamoto responded, “How
was Tiensin?”
“Tiensin, well it was not very reassuring. Our troops are good in an
attack mode, but once you have complications, and you are depending on
field officers to use their heads, and not do something stupid, you are in
trouble. The problem is that Tokyo’s not setting the goals for the Army in
China. It’s almost as if each unit is setting its own goals. I am glad to be out
of there,” Homma said.
“What’s your next assignment,” Yamamoto asked.
“That’s why I came to see you, Iso-kun. Before I get to that, let me
give you some background. First, I was relieved of command in Tiensin, no
reason given. When I got back to Tokyo I waited around for a week before
they called me in. They wondered would I do a little trouble shooting. They
were concerned about intelligence reports coming in from the South. What
they showed me was presented without background. Most of it was
unusable it was so uneven. Last week, the Army General Staff ordered me
into a conference. It was a meeting to discuss future plans. The first two

days some Colonels from G2 told us about the state of the world. You know
how it is. They assume you can’t think, or read things for yourself. I tried
to keep awake by asking them questions about their analysis. Then, Lt.
Colonel Tsuji, Prince Mikasa’s protégé, took over. He was fresh from
Formosa where he prepared a preliminary plan that he made for
Detachment 82. The High Command wants to strike south as far as the
Dutch East Indies. They plan to take Burma, Malaya, and Singapore. Hong
Kong is just a plum to be picked up on the way. I sat there the whole time
there thinking they must be crazy,” Homma said, “But that is not what’s
bothering me.”
“No? That’s enough to bother anyone.” Yamamoto responded.
“How many times in the past have we talked about the world
situation,” Homma said, “Dozens of times. And I remember you cautioning
me about getting into a fight with the United States. Well, that’s what we
are preparing to do. Can you imagine, I was asked to endorse a plan to
invade the Philippines. Then, sign on and take command of an invasion
force”
“That’s terrible, but I’ve been expecting something like this.”
Yamamoto said.
“They think we can take Manila in 30 days, the rest of Luzon and the
big Islands to the South in 90 days,” Homma exclaimed, “I couldn’t believe
it! I protested to General Sugiyama but he told me to take this assignment
or be sent to baby-sit recruits in training. Can you imagine the situation?”

Yamamoto laughed. “That wasn’t nice of him. But good, I agree you
should defeat the Americans in the Philippines in 90 days. I expect they’ll
want me to take Washington D.C. by Christmas. How about you helping me
after you take Australia.”
“Don’t joke,” Homma said, “They have plans to take Australia after
they wipe out the British in Asia. You watch. They want to take on the
world. The sad thing is the hot heads have no idea about the rest of world.
Isn’t there any way we can put a stop to this nonsense?”
“That’s exactly what I have been worrying about myself,” Yamamoto
responded, “The problem is finding someone to talk to, and then convince,
of your point of view. There’s no authority you can talk to without sounding
disloyal or defeatist. The only hope is that the Emperor will have superior
virtue and put a stop to this foolishness. This morning I decided after many
months of considering the situation that if we get in a war with the United
States we will eventually lose. The problem is, as loyal officers we have no
choice but do our duty.”
“Yes, you are right of course. I was hoping you would be more
optimistic about finding some way to stop this war talk and negotiate for
what we need. I know, that of all people, you have the wisest head,” Homma
said, “I didn’t want to sound defeatist when I came here but, actually the
situation in China is much worse than anyone can imagine. We will soon
have thirty five divisions tied up there.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. But it’s been covered up by this

government,” Yamamoto said, “Never mind, in my opinion there is nothing
to be done about it. I am sorry, Homma-san.”
After a long silence, Homma said, “I understand the dilemma. If we
do not go to war we will run out of resources and, if we go to war it may
take a little longer. Sadly, either way we will lose.”
“Shoganai, That’s the way it is, it can’t be helped.”
Yamamoto then introduced Chieyoko to General Homma. After a
pleasant exchange, Kiyoko and another geisha were invited in, and the two
senior officers requested songs from their youth. Accompanied by Koto and
Shamisen the songs sounded good, and both men relaxed. They could then
talk about old times in London and America. By midnight, when they left
Umenoshima, they were feeling much better, a little drunk with a little less
concern for the dilemma their country faced.

Chapter 10
The Costs of War
The next morning, the routine business of the staff conference was
completed by eleven O’clock. Flight Commander Genda Minoru, the navy’s
best flyer, attending the meeting as the guest of Admiral Yamamoto, had
his interest peaked by one interesting fact, Admiral Onishi reported that
the Navy had eight million barrels of oil on hand, a six month reserve for
operations. He also reported that the Army and the government were both
requesting fuels to be supplied to them by the Navy from the reserve. “We
have no choice under the circumstance, but to comply with their requests,”
Onishi said. Genda made a mental note to himself to find out more about
how the navy procured its fuel.
After a brief break, the conference reconvened. Minister Shimada
introduced Admiral Yamamoto, “I am grateful to the Commander of the
Combined Fleet, Admiral Yamamoto, for agreeing to address this meeting
today. He will speak on the role of the Navy in any future conflict.”
As Yamamoto sat waiting for his introduction to end he thought
about his meeting with Shimada that morning, ‘Well, he didn’t disagree
with my prediction of our ultimate defeat but he shrewdly asked me to tone
down my remarks. I’ll say enough so they can all read between the lines.’
With few exceptions, Yamamoto, was well respected, even revered,
by his fellow officers, with the result that as he got up to go to the lectern,
they enthusiastically rose as a group and stood at attention.

“Gentlemen at ease. Since my earliest days in our service, first with
Admiral Togo at the battle of Tsushima, and at each post I have been
honored to be given, I have always taken pride in our readiness to defend
Japan and our Imperial personage in any conflict that we may find
ourselves. So far, our record in this regard has been stainless. I can report
to you today, following an inspection of the Combined Fleet after my
appointment as its Commander-in-Chief, that its ships, officers, and crews
are in top fighting condition. The fleet’s air squadrons are capable fighting
forces. Our submarine forces have developed a new torpedo, powered by
oxygen, which has accuracy and range beyond any torpedo in any navy in
the world. The technical division is presently modifying this torpedo for
use by our torpedo bombers. You have my word, as Commander in Chief,
that all of these things are true. They are a tribute to your excellent
attention to duty. I am scheduled to inform his Excellency, the Imperial
person, of the condition of the Fleet and will say the same thing as I have
said to you here this morning.”
“As we go forward to continue our glorious record, I would like to
suggest that you keep in mind some further remarks I want to make. From
Emperor Meiji’s time forward the Navy in cooperation with its friends
overseas, The British, and the Americans to a lesser extent, built its power
by adopting their ships and their operational methods. Our tactics and
strategies were modified and adjusted to our own requirements, but they
were tried and trusted ways of doing things in their navies before we took

them up. I remember Admiral Togo pointing to a small British flag he kept
and asking us to remember our debt to that country.”
He continued, “For reasons those of us in this room may not
completely understand, we are faced with the possibility of conflict with
Great Britain and The United States in the Pacific. This could have grave
consequences not only for the Imperial Navy, but also for the national
polity itself. With all due respect to the other organs of the Government,
and the individuals responsible, I want to suggest that if at all possible we
should negotiate a settlement with those countries, Great Britain and
America, without loss of honor. Before concluding my remarks, let me say
that I would be glad to receive your letters should you want to comment or
add anything to what I have said.”
Admiral Yamamoto knew that the obvious part of his message was
not lost on most of the officers in the room. While the navy had long tried to
keep out of politics, as Japan’s senior service, it had a long and
distinguished record of putting the nation above its own parochial
concerns. Now if there was ever a time to get involved, this was it.
Yamamoto’s worry was that the warning behind his words was too subtly
put. Would they understand that war with Great Britain and America could
well be suicidal? It was now February, he thought, how long would it take
his staff to develop a plan with all the other things they would be absorbed
in doing. If the High Command gets it way about all the strikes to the South
it was contemplating, the planning function could be overwhelmed. How

would his officers be able to cope with the work?
Yamamoto had already decided on a course of action. The demise of
the Japanese Empire was not going to be laid at the feet of the Navy if he
could help it. He would see the Emperor and explain his ideas. It was
probably the only way he would have a chance to make his opinions known
to the Throne. His position and rank made the outcome of his request for
an audience certain. Two days later he was seated in the Imperial Library
with Prince Takamatsu who had been asked to hear what Yamamoto
wanted to say. Their discussion was a case of the Navy talking to the Navy
since Takamatsu was a Commander on the Navy General Staff. Yamamoto
began by stating his case for avoiding war with the US and Britain.
Takamatsu seemed to agree and said, “There are many in our service that
agree with you. I will communicate your views to his Majesty.
Then, Yamamoto presented his idea of an attack on the American
fleet at Pearl Harbor at the outset of any war. It was a creative exercise by
a strategic genius, and was so clearly presented that Prince Takamatsu did
not have any trouble recalling all the details when he spoke with his
brother, the Emperor, that same afternoon. After several days of
consideration, Hirohito authorized Prince Takamatsu to conduct an
independent appraisal. Since the idea was top-secret, the Prince consulted
with someone he knew well, Rear Admiral Onishi Takajiro. Onishi wasn’t a
fool. He instantly recognized a political power play when he saw it. He
quickly recommended Yamamoto’s protégé Commander Genda Minoru to

do the appraisal. Genda was widely recognized in the Navy as a brilliant
flyer and an advocate of air power. Onishi told Takamatsu, “Genda is an
independent thinker. He is sincere and honest. There is no one else as good.
I recommend we ask him to prepare a report.”
Once given the task, Genda locked himself in his room on board the
carrier Kaga anchored in Ariake Bay on Kyushu Island. He knew
instinctively that this might well be the most important undertaking he
had faced in his naval career. That the plan depended on secrecy, he saw
instantly. Many things flowed from this fact. The choice of route and the
timing of the attack were important variables in the equation.
One night during his weeks of study he took time off to go to a movie.
In the darkened theater he watched a newsreel containing a picture of
American Aircraft carriers moving as a group across the screen. It
suddenly occurred to him that by concentrating the air power of each of
the ships represented you had a whole new concept of offense in naval air
war. He rushed out of the theatre and returned to the ship. He wrote all
night describing his concept. As dawn came up over the quiet water where
the ship was anchored he stepped out on the deck for a walk knowing that
his idea would changed the way war was fought at sea forever.
After his talk with Prince Takamatsu, Admiral Yamamoto returned
to the Inland Sea. Busying himself on a number of fronts, he pushed
through a reorganization of his command. The idea was to create the
nucleus of an attack force capable of carrying out a strike on Pearl Harbor.

He had already scoured the navy for all the top operational officers and had
no trouble telling his staff what he wanted after swearing them to secrecy.
He had relayed his wishes to Rear Admiral Onishi before leaving Tokyo,
and on April 15, 1940 he had them confirmed by letter.
‘As pertains to our previous conversation: At the beginning of this
month, the organization of the 1st Air Fleet was completed. Officers are as
follows: Commander in Chief, Vice-Admiral Nagumo, Chief of Staff Rear-
Admiral Kusaka, I am Senior Staff Officer Commander, and Captain Minoru
Genda, is Air Staff Officer. All of the aforementioned are cognizant of our
objective.
Sincerely,
Onishi Takajiro’
By the end of the month Genda’s evaluation of Yamamoto’s plan
reached Tokyo and was relayed to Prince Takamatsu who presented it to
Hirohito. Genda’s report made 6 main points:
1. The necessity of maintaining strict secrecy to guarantee surprise.
2. Importance of the choice of a sea route to the target.
3. Attack during daylight to insure precision bombing.
4. Use of enough force to insure maximum damage (6 Aircraft
Carriers).
5. Technical problems need solution.
6. Conclusion Plan would be extremely hazardous but not
impossible.

Yamamoto’s idea was the kind of that a true warrior with plenty of
experience flying combat over China could get his teeth into. Genda also
realized that this was an opportunity to demonstrate his concept that the
true use of aircraft carrier based naval aviation was in an attack formation
not as part of a fleet’s defense of capital ships like battleships and cruisers.
After hearing about the reception of Genda’s report Yamamoto
realized that Hirohito, the current occupant of the Throne of Japan, was
not going to forget about his idea. Without further consideration or
consultation he began the training of the First Air Fleet in the waters off
the city of Kagoshima in southern Japan.

Chapter 11
Manila
The white Manila bound passenger ship, blown eastward by the
prevailing winds swirling out of the South China Sea, labored slightly as it
tacked back around the northern end of the island of Luzon and made it’s
way down the coast to Manila. Jim Casey and Robert watched as numerous
small islands came up on the port side of the ship and passed astern. As
they rounded the Bataan Peninsula they passed the tiny island Corregidor,
which marked the northern entrance to Manila Bay. They could see the
smoke of the city from several miles away.
“Manila’s called the ‘Pearl of the Orient Seas,”’ Casey told Robert as
they gazed towards the city. “It’s pretty modern. I was surprised when I
first got here. There’s a river running through the city and many buildings
that will remind you of Mexico. Some of the boulevards are really
magnificent.”
When the ship was anchored off the center of the city they looked
through the tall palm trees lining the waters edge and could see in towards
the center of the city. Immediately below them alongside there were
swarms of lighters and shore boats waiting for the ship crew to open the
cargo doors and gangplanks for freight and passenger unloading. In a very
short time stevedores from the waiting small boats, were busy unloading
the ship’s cargo.
The ship’s Steward came up to them and said, “Mr. Casey, the

gangplank’s in place and it would be a good time to disembark. Your hand
luggage is just beside the gangway back along this side of the ship. It’s been
nice having you gentlemen on this trip. I look forward to seeing you again
when you are next in Hong Kong.”
They disembarked from the ship into a launch that sped them
quickly to the landing. As they scrambled up the gangplank leading to the
quay, Jim said, “There’s the Manila Hotel,” pointing to a prominent building
across the road running along the seaside. “It’s the center of social life for
the American community here in Manila. General Douglas MacArthur lives
on the fourth floor and has his offices there.”
“Is he the boss here Dad?” Robert asked.
“No, No,” Casey laughed. “He’s retired from the American Army and
he’s on special assignment to help the Philippine government build up their
own army. Officially he’s Field Marshal of the Philippine Army.”
“Have you met him Dad?”
“Well, I didn’t actually get to talk to the great man. I was introduced
to him in a reception at the Hotel one time, but I was just one of many
people who shuffled along a big line to get to shake the hand of General
MacArthur. He lives up there,” he said pointing skyward, “Where the big
people live.
The American High Commissioner, Francis Sayre is in charge of the
American government operations here. Caleb Bingham works for him. He
lives in Government House near the High Commission office building. One

person you’ll have to meet is Lt. Colonel Eisenhower. He’s General
MacArthur’s aide and one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. He’s
interested in mining and he’s been a big help getting me maps of the
countryside, and introducing Filipinos who’ve been really helpful to me.”
A man in a white suit and Panama hat was holding a sign that said
“Casey,” at street side. A shiny black Packard sedan courtesy of Caleb
Bingham was waiting take them to the Hotel which was only a mile or so
away. The Nishkawa Hotel was two stories high with fifty rooms. It was not
luxurious but it was centrally located. Breakfast and dinner were included
in the room charge for a reason; Most of the guests were Japanese
businessmen posted to Manila without their families, so having a kitchen
that could cook their favorite food was a real advantage. The owner, K. Fuji,
was a well-known and respected businessman, and he had spent part of his
youth in Hawaii. Consequently, the American Embassy directed many
American visitors on a budget to the Nishikawa Hotel.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky the heat became more and
more oppressive. By the time the two Casey men reached their hotel they
were hot and sweaty. The porter took their luggage from the trunk of their
cab and they stood dripping under the overhead fan in the reception area.
The young Filipino desk clerk recognized Jim Casey and he said, “Welcome
back Mr. Casey, your room is just as you left it. Mr. Bingham’s secretary
called last week and reserved for your son. I’ll have the porter show your
son to his room. I expect you’ll be wanting to shower.”

“Thank you Benigo. Yes, we’re pretty hot. I don’t remember it being
this warm when I left for Hong Kong.” Casey responded.
“It’s a warm spell. We get these just before the monsoon season
starts. When the rains come it will cool off pretty quickly but it will still be
pretty humid.” He said handing Robert a room key. “Oh, by the way, Mr.
Sakamoto was asking if you had returned. He said to tell you that the
materials you ordered from Marston and Co. have arrived. And before I
forget, Mr. Bingham called and said he would stop by this evening to pay
his respects.”
“Oh! Good. If you see Mr. Sakamoto, tell him I will stop by his office
tomorrow. Could you have the girl bring up some ice water, please?” Casey
said as he started for the stairs.
“Dad, Who’s Richard Sakamoto,” Robert asked.
“He’s a young guy from Hawaii. He works for Marston & Co. they’re
agents for Sears & Roebuck Company here. He’s a nice guy. His parents are
sugar planters in Hawaii. He’s got plenty of fancy clothes and is out on the
town practically every night. He’ll probably introduce you to nightlife here
in Manila. By the way there are two commodes on this floor, but the
showers and bathtub are downstairs at the back of the building. When you
get ready to go down just knock on my door and I’ll show you the way.”
They were tired from their journey and after a shower they slept the
better part of the day. At six o’clock, the porter awakened them to inform
them that dinner would be in half an hour, they were very hungry by this

time so they quickly dressed and made their way to the hotel dining room.
The hotel’s regular guests were already in place, chatting away in
Japanese when they entered the room. They occupied the last remaining
table. The Filipino waiter announced that the menu of the day was fried
pork, cabbage and rice. Shortly after they sat down a young Japanese
approached the table and said, “Hi, Jim. You’re back in Manila.”
“Oh hello, Richard,” Casey said. “Sit down. I want to introduce you to
my son Robert. Have you eaten?”
“No, I just got back from Makati.” Addressing Robert he said, “Hello,
my name is Richard Sakamoto. I’m from Hawaii,” He said reaching to shake
hands. “Boy it was sure hot today. Are you guys adjusted to the climate
yet?”
Robert laughed, “I don’t know. We slept most of the day. I could be
adjusted but I wouldn’t really know it.”
“Well, I’m from a pretty warm place and I’m still not used to the
weather here,” Sakamoto said, “I go through three suits a day and my
laundry bill is almost the biggest item in my budget.” Then he paused and
said, “Well, that’s an exaggeration. I guess my entertainment bill is quite a
bit bigger. There’s a lot to do here at night and clubs are pretty inviting. Do
you like to dance?”
The elder Casey screwed on a stern looking face and said, “Don’t
listen to him. He’s the biggest playboy in Manila. He’ll corrupt you
completely.”

They laughed and then plunged into dinner. By the time dinner was
over Robert and Richard Sakamoto were deep in plans for a night out on
the town. Richard excused himself to take a shower and change clothes.
Within the hour, the two men were climbing into a taxi in front of the hotel.
The senior Casey settled into an easy chair in the reading room just
off the hotel lobby. With a stack of The Manila Times newspapers on his lap,
he was busy catching up on the latest news. The war in China was not going
well for the nationalist government. Reports from the front were sketchy
at best, but the outlines were clear. The Japanese had landed many more
troops up and down the coast from Shanghai and were rapidly moving
inland towards the front lines. Chiang Kai-shek’s forces were being
pursued and in spite of fierce resistance by the best Chinese troops their
lines were being cracked at various points by the advancing columns of
Japanese.
The Japanese air squadrons were pouring it on from the skies over
China. There was no opposition to Japanese bombing and strafing and
there hadn’t been any after the first week of the fighting a year earlier
when China’s air force was destroyed in the air and blasted on the ground.
The United States had registered protests with the Japanese stop their new
advances, but like so many times before the complaints were ignored.
Japan’s stated objectives for the war were couched in explanations that
belied the truth: “Punish the aggressor! Fight for Freedom Loving Peoples
of Asia against the Evil Forces,” It’s as if the propaganda by the Japanese

government was taken from comic books Casey thought.
Then he turned his attention to the news from Europe. France lay
prostrate under the German boot. The Vichy government under General
Petain was clearly just a powerless puppet. Night after night the Luftwaffe
was systematically bombing London. As he sat pondering the situation Jim
Casey glanced at his watch in expectation of his visitor’s arrival. Then the
door opened and, Caleb Bingham, looking tall and aristocratic in a freshly
pressed white suit, crossed the room to greet him.
“Hello, Jim how was your trip down,” Caleb said as he shook Casey’s
hand, “Where’s Robert?”
“He went out on the town with Richard Sakamoto, a Japanese
American guy staying here,” said Jim. “I guess you heard what happened
to Captain Kang and his crew when they left Shanghai.”
“No, what?”
“The Golden Dragon was attacked by two pirate boats just after they
left Shanghai on the way back to Hong Kong. A stray bullet hit Paul’s
nephew Mee-Koh and killed him. Captain Kang and his crew managed to
sink the attacking boats. But two of Golden Dragon’s crew were wounded.
It’s a shame what happened to the boy.”
“Damn,” Caleb said, “I had no idea anything like that happened. Paul
sent me a wire saying you would be arriving on the steamer today but he
didn’t mention anything else. That’s terrible news.”
“Otherwise, it was a good trip. Li’s Golden Dragon Trading Company has

signed on to give us a hand, so thanks to you, I think I’ve found the perfect
venture partner for my New Eldorado Mining Co. All in all I am pretty
pleased, and I can’t thank you enough.”
“So, that’s good news. Congratulations!” Bingham said.
Paul Li is sending us Li Song to help out, and is asking his people
here to make temporary room for us in their office. I think they’ll support
as much as they can. He’s pretty worried about the situation in China and,
although he joked about it, I think he is seriously thinking about setting up
his own shop here in Manila if things go completely sour in Hong Kong. He
doesn’t trust the Japanese and from what I’ve been reading he’s probably
right.” Casey said, pointing to the newspapers.
“Yes, the situation in China doesn’t look very good. The Japs are
more than a match for the Chinese. On top of that they’re pretty arrogant.
They can afford to be they’ve got more firepower than their opponents
have.
The situation here is pretty pathetic. I was talking to Colonel
Eisenhower this morning and he’s very discouraged. The Filipinos he’s
supposed to be training haven’t any working weapons to speak of, there’s
no money for new ones, and MacArthur, Ike’s boss, doesn’t do much except
demand more and more from him. Ike claims the Filipino army is much too
large and unwieldy. He’d like to cut its size way down so it would be
manageable enough to train. But he says the President of the Philippines,
keeps talking with MacArthur to make it even bigger. I think Eisenhower

would jump at the chance to get back to the States or even take some other
foreign assignment if one were offered.”
“It must be really discouraging. Eisenhower’s always impressed me
as being a damned fine officer,” Jim said, “In any case he’s a very nice guy,
easy to talk to. How about going up to my room. I’ve got some good Scotch I
brought back from Hong Kong.”
Settling down in Casey’s room, the two men nursed their scotch and
water. “Tell me what’s been going on in Hong Kong since I left.” Bingham
said.
“The night we were in the club together, you may remember Paul was
called away. He told me later that two officers from the Japanese Consulate
in Hong Kong came the club specifically to see him. They come to tell him
about the Japanese landing in Indochina. He said he told them he hadn’t
heard about the incident. Then they intimated that something else big was
going to happen. As it turned out, the Japanese had started landing more
troops at Shanghai, and other places, in an effort to defeat Chiang Kai-shek
once and for all. Anyway, Paul was sufficiently alarmed by what they told
him to send Captain Kang up to Shanghai to move everything out of his
office, and take his manager out of Shanghai.”
“I didn’t know that,” Bingham said, “He’s a pretty tough nut. It’s not
like him to cut and run do you think?”
“I wouldn’t say so either,” Casey said, “He’s also worried about the
British commitment to Hong Kong now that the German’s have them on

the ropes in Europe, and the Japs have signed a treaty with Hitler and
Mussolini.”
“I don’t blame him for being worried,” Caleb said. How strong do you
think the British are in Hong Kong? “I looked around and I must say I
wasn’t very impressed?”
“Hard to tell.” Casey said, “It’s such a melting pot up there. The Royal
Navy’s there along with the constabulary. But, I didn’t see the kind of
military presence I thought I’d see. At heart it’s really a Chinese place. I
can’t imagine that if the Japanese wanted it, that the British would be up to
defending against them. That’s just my gut feeling without knowing
anything more than I do.”
“The same could probably be said for the Philippines.” Bingham said.
“We are so out of touch here. It’s almost impossible to get up to date
information. Manila is such a backwater. Like I told Paul, I never dreamed
it would be so isolated when I got on the boat to come here.”
“Well, maybe we’re lucky. This place can probably avoid being caught
up in the rest of Asia’s wars.” Casey said.
“Maybe so.” Bingham said. “By the way do you trust your boys being
out with Richard Sakamoto? I hear he’s quite a playboy.”
“Oh! I think he’s okay. They’re pretty level headed. They haven’t got
enough money to get into any real trouble. Besides, I think our MP’s will
probably pick them up if things get out of hand.” Casey responded. “Besides
we’ll be pushing off for the mountains soon.”

“Really, so you’ll be heading out where?”
“I’ve decided to prospect the high country down the center of Cebu
first. Geologically it seems about right and I don’t think the Spaniards or
anybody else did anything like a real job of prospecting on Cebu. Anyway,
it’s worth a look.” Casey said.
“I’ve never been to Cebu,” Bingham said. “I hear it’s a pretty place
and Cebu City is mosquito free most of the year. When you get down there
maybe I’ll come and visit. You can show me around. Oh, by the way, there’s
a polo match this Sunday up at Fort Stotsenberg between our cavalry team
and the Manila Polo club. I’d like to invite you all to the game. If you and
Robert are agreeable, we can drive up Sunday morning and eat at the
officer’s mess before the match.”

Chapter 12
1906 Predictions
After Bingham left to go home, Jim Casey settled down to read. He
had a copy of Jack London’s old war correspondence reporting from the
various armed conflicts he’d covered for the press. He opened the book to a
report that appeared in the San Francisco Examiner thirty-three years
before. The dateline was Feng-Wang Chen, Manchuria, June 1904. After
quickly reading London’s description of the differences between the
Koreans and the Chinese, Casey settled in, and read at a slower pace:
‘Today, equipped with the finest machines and systems of
destruction the Caucasian mind has devised, handling machines and
systems with remarkable and deadly accuracy, this rejuvenescent
Japanese race has embarked on a course of conquest, the goal of which no
man knows. The headmen of Japan are dreaming ambitiously, and the
people are dreaming blindly, a Napoleonic dream. And to this dream the
Japanese clings, and will cling with bulldog tenacity. The Soldier shouting
“Nippon, Banzai!” on the walls of Wiju, the widow at home in her paper
house committing suicide so that her only son, her sole support, may go to
the front, are both expressing the unanimity of the dream.
The late disturbance in the Far East marked the clashing of the
dreams, for the Slav, too, is dreaming greatly. Granting that the Japanese
can hurl back the Slav and that the two great branches of the Anglo-Saxon
race do not despoil him of his spoils, the Japanese dream takes on

substantiality. Japan’s population is no larger because her people have
continually pressed against the means of subsistence. But given poor
empty Korea for a breeding colony and Manchuria for a granary and at
once the Japanese begins to increase by leaps and bounds.
Even so, he would not of himself constitute a Brown Peril. He has not
the time in which to grow and realize the dream. He is only forty-five
millions, and so fast does the economic exploitation of the planet hurry on
the planet’s partition amongst the Western peoples that, before he could
attain the stature requisite to menace, he would see the Western giants in
possession of the very stuff of his dream.
The menace to the Western world lies, not in the little brown man,
but in the four hundred millions of yellow men should the little brown man
undertake their management. The Chinese is not dead too new ideas; he is
an efficient worker; makes a good soldier, is wealthy in the essential
materials of a machine age. Under capable management he will go far. The
Japanese is prepared and fit to undertake this management. Not only has
he proved himself an apt imitator of Western material progress, a sturdy
worker, and a capable organizer, but he is far more fit to manage the
Chinese than we are.’
Casey poured himself another scotch and sat thinking about Jack
London’s observations. Nothing new about Paul Li’s ideas he thought. A
reporter named London had nailed it down over thirty years before. The
only trouble, he thought, is that no one in the West was listening or just

plain didn’t remember what he said. He continued reading and several
lines down the page he came to a paragraph that jumped off the page.
‘We have had Africa for the Africander, and at no distant day we
shall hear “Asia for the Asiatic!” Four hundred million indefatigable
workers (deft, intelligent, and unafraid to die), aroused and rejuvenescent,
managed and guided by forty-five million additional human beings who are
splendid fighting animals, scientific and modern, constitute that menace to
the Western world which has been well named the “Yellow Peril”.’
I am getting sleepy, Casey thought, as he rubbed his eyes. I’ll have to
show this amazing stuff to Bingham when I talk to him next.
His new friend amused Richard Sakamoto. He guessed Robert was
about his same age, but after six months in Manila on his own he felt that
he was vastly more experienced in the world. “You’ll find the clubs here in
Manila are pretty wild,” he said, “The girls outnumber the men here by a
lot, and they’re brazen in the way they compete for your attention. The
gambling’s fun. I only play a little roulette, but you’ll find that any game in
the world can be played here for money.”
“I’m pretty new to night life,” Robert said. “Dad and I went to a club
in Hong Kong. There weren’t any gambling, just girls. I sure found out
about hangovers though. I never drank so much in my entire life.”
Richard laughed and said, “I’ve had some pretty bad mornings here
myself. One thing you have to be careful about here is cheap booze. The
Filipinos brew some pretty headache making stuff. I stick to beer myself”

The cab pulled up in front of a brightly lighted building in the heart
of the entertainment district. The streets were crowded with street
vendors, horse carts, women standing in tight knit groups, and uniformed
men. “This is the Tropic Club, Richard said. “Let’s go in here and I’ll
introduce you to my friend Velodia. When she’s not dancing she works here
part time.”
Once in side the club, Richard made his way through the packed
tables to a red leather booth located near the stage where a Filipino band
was punching out a swing number. It was dark in the booth, and for a
moment Robert thought it wasn’t occupied. When his eyes adjusted to the
light he could see two teenaged Filipino girls hugging each other in a
corner of the booth. “Get us some beer,” Richard said imperiously. “And
send Velodia over here.” The girls giggled and scurried away towards the
bar.
“Velodia’s a White Russian.” Richard said. “She was in Port Arthur
but she came here to get away from the Japanese. She doesn’t like
Japanese from Japan but she seems to like me okay. I guess it’s because
I’m an American”
“What’s a White Russian?” Robert asked.
They were the supporters of the Tsar in Russia. Then, when the
Bolsheviks killed the Tsar and the rest of the royal family, they fled Russia.
Velodia Nasrudin’s father was a cavalry officer and the family escaped on a
train to the East.” Richard explained. “Velodia was just a kid when they

finally got to Manchuria. Now, her parents are both dead so she’s alone in
the world.”
“Wow! That must tough.”
“Yeah! Being an unmarried woman in this entertainment business is
darned hard. I try to help her out with a little extra money when I have it.”
The Filipino girls brought back five bottles of beer, passed them
around, and kept two. Sakamoto paid them and they disappeared. “They’ll
try to sell those two beers to someone else,” he said.
There was a brief break in the music, and a buxom blonde woman in
a white dress came up to the booth, slipped into the seat next to Richard,
and threw her arms around him. “Dalink! I’ve missed you. Where have you
been?”
Richard was visibly embarrassed. He said, “Never mind. Meet my
friend from America.”
“So happy to meet you. All the way from America! That’s great. I
want to go to America.” Velodia gushed. “But,” she continued, I am stuck in
Manila.”
“Is this a bad place to be stuck in?” Robert asked.
Velodia laughed, “Stuck is stuck, don’t you agree.
“Yeah, I was stuck in Mexico for most of my life until I went away to
college,” Robert said.
“Mexico,” Velodia said, “I’ve heard Mexico is a lot like the
Philippines. Is that true?”

“I haven’t been in Manila long enough to say. I only got here this
morning.”
“Any place is bad to be stuck in.” Richard said. “I felt stuck in Hawaii
and that’s a nice place to live. But I ran away to be here. Let’s dance.” With
that he got up and herded Velodia towards the already crowded dance floor.
The two young Filipino girls who’d been in the booth reappeared and
pulled Robert onto the dance floor. The song was a slow syncopated
sounding foxtrot and the girls expertly guided him around the floor
hugging him closely until one of the two peeled off.
“You like girl?” Robert’s partner asked him.
“Sure. You like man,” he responded.
She giggled. “I love you. My name Florita.”
When the dance was over Jim was feeling hot and flustered. The
temperature seemed stifling to him and he headed back to the table to sit
down. Once he was seated Florita piled on his lap and draped herself
around his neck.
“Let’s make love.” She purred in his ear.
“Not now!” He could feel the heat of her body on his lap and he felt an
erection rising. By the time their companions returned he was fully
aroused.
Florita kept squirming around on his lap and had no intention of
letting him get away. The others returned and piled into the booth.
“This is Florita,” said Velodia introducing Robert’s dance partner. “I

want something to drink.”
Richard handed her a bundle of currency and she headed towards
the bar with Richard in tow.
Florita’s fingers played a tattoo up and down Robert’s straining
member. He pulled her hand away and said, “Later. Not now.” Rivulets of
sweat ran down his brow. Finally, he could stand it no longer. “I’ve got to
get some air,” he said as he slid off the seat with Florita still hanging onto
his neck. Setting her on her feet, he bolted for the front door, the girl still
clinging to his arm. Out on the veranda of the building he stood swaying
slightly as he held onto a column supporting the roof. “God! It was hot in
there.”
Yes, very hot,” Florita said, fanning him with her handbag.
He could finally see her now in the light. Her small brown face shone
in light, the skin on her cheekbones, tight over fine bones, and her smile
dazzled. She’s just a tiny waif of a girl, Jim thought as she pressed against
his arm. “Do you live with your family?” he asked.
No, I with Velodia. She is my sister. I have no other family.”
“Your sister’s family, Jim said.
“No real family. Just my sister.”
Finally, it dawned on him that they were probably not related. “Yes,
he responded, “Velodia, your sister.”

Chapter 13
Fort Stotesenberg
As the day dawned over Manila, a stray rain cloud passed over the
city and laid a steady sheet of rain down its streets. Not long after the cloud
passed, the puddles were already dry in the relentless sun. The humidity
soared as the land dried out. Caleb Bingham’s driver was outside washing
the Packard down and polishing its chrome as soon as the rain stopped. He
drove to the rear of the compound and filled the gas tank from a fifty-five-
gallon barrel, cranking the hand pump in one continuous wind of its
handle. As soon as the car was fueled he went in by the servants entrance
to have breakfast in the big kitchen. The family retainers had, by custom,
right to eat in the kitchen at a broad communal table spread with enamel
dishes, tin cups, and for their breakfast, the usual rice and fish. Hot spices
and native condiments flavored everything. The older members of the staff
had coffee from the kitchens large urn.
“Where are you going today,” the cook asked.
“Mister is going to the polo game up at Fort Stotsenberg,” Teodoro
said. “The army up there is playing the Manila Polo Club. They’re having a
game this afternoon.”
“Who do you think will win,” Frank, The gardener, asked.
“I don’t know. The Manila Club is the best we have, but I don’t know
about the army team. They’ve never played Manila before,” Teodoro said.
Then, Caleb Bingham stuck his head in the door and asked, “Teo, how

long is it going to take us to pick up the Caseys and drive to Stotesenberg?”
“It shouldn’t take over two, maybe, two and half hours sir. It’s
Sunday.”
“Okay, I want to get there by noon because we’re supposed to have
lunch in the officers mess,” Bingham responded. Looking at the cook he
said, “I’d like two soft boiled eggs, toast, and coffee, please.
“Yes, Sir. They’ll be ready in just a few minutes.
The Packard carrying the party to Fort Stotsenberg left the outskirts
of the city and headed North on a two-lane road. The Luzon plain was
dotted with villages, paddies, and fields that stretched away to the Jungle
covered mountains on either side. Up ahead and slightly to the west, Mount
Pinatubo’s volcanic eminence soared skyward. It was easily the most
prominent feature in the landscape. A large cloud formed around its peak.
The road contained small parties of riders on horseback and was crowded
with oxcarts, and mule trains and that all trundled along on the margins of
the highway. The Packard car made good progress, but it was often slowed
by its inability to get around slow moving traffic. The result was that, by
noon they were still several miles from the gates of Fort Stotsenberg. Caleb
Bingham extracted his gold pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and
said, “Well, we’ll be a little late for lunch. I hope there will still be some food
left.”
When they drove in the gates of Fort Stotsenberg there was a sign in
middle of the road that said, ‘Drive carefully ñ Proceed with Caution’ the

guardhouse was empty since there was no official business to be conducted
on the weekend.
Teodoro was familiar with the base
because he’d once been a civilian driver for the US Army. He drove
around the parade field directly to the Officers Mess. As they went in the
door a Filipino steward with a napkin on his arm greeted them.
“You must be Mr. Bingham and guests,” he said, please come this
way, Colonel Southward is waiting for you.”
Colonel Fritz Southward, US Army was standing at a bar set up on
the far side of reception hall. He was a short stocky man with handle bar
moustache, dressed in riding boots and breeches. He held a riding crop in
one hand, and a wineglass in the other. “Caleb, good to see you. And you
must be Jim Casey,” he said putting his glass on the bar and reaching out
for a handshake.
“Sorry we’re late Fritz,” Caleb said, “The traffic was a bit stickier
than we thought it would be.”
“Oh, that’s to be expected,” Southward said, “Every year it takes
longer and longer to travel that road. And, we keep putting in for the
budget to widen it in the worse places, but we keep getting turned down
somewhere along the line. Never mind. We’ve got more important things to
attend to now. Let’s eat.”
As he steered them into the mess, he whispered, “General
Wainwright is having lunch here today. He’s refereeing the polo match.”

Lunch was a hearty meal of roast beef, mashed potatoes and green
beans. The Casey’s were hungry because they’d slept through breakfast at
their hotel. After second helpings, they were relaxed and full. “Caleb, is
that General Jonathan Wainwright over there,” Jim asked.”
“Yes, he’s the gentleman in dress white uniform,” Caleb responded.
“He’s a tough old bird, a West Pointer, and former cavalryman. His grand
dad was a general. Died in the Civil War. And, his daddy was a general. He’s
got the army in his blood. His junior officers worship the ground he walks
on. If, I get the chance I’ll introduce you to him.”
“What’s his job,” Robert asked.”
“He commands our own Philippines Division and has command of
the Filipino Scouts, all twenty thousand of them, Caleb responded, “In all, I
guess he’s got maybe forty thousand men under his command. It must be a
pretty tough job because he’s got General MacArthur and the President of
the Philippines breathing down his neck. Lt. Colonel Eisenhower, General
MacArthur’s aide, and General Wainwright are old friends so I guess
Colonel Eisenhower tries to keep General Wainwright up on what his boss
is thinking.”
“Dad said Colonel Eisenhower is a nice man,” Robert ventured.
“The best,” Caleb said. “You’ll probably meet him before long.”
Following lunch they headed for the polo field. A wooden bleacher
and a reviewing stand were almost entirely filled with army personnel,
families and friends. The Casey’s were familiar with polo from their time in

Mexico. Their mother’s brother and his sons kept polo ponies and they had
been invited to several matches. The post buglers greeted the arrival of the
Army and Filipino polo teams with a fanfare. Army team played hard but
the Filipino team was clearly more experienced and the individual players
were used to each other’s style. The game was evenly matched in the early
period but by the end of the game, the Army team lost. The Bingham party
was invited to the horse barns following the match. Fort Stotsenberg was
home to the 27th Cavalry Division and it had a proud tradition of being
well mounted on the cream of the Army’s horses. Each officer and trooper
had a Filipino groom to care for his mount. In expectation of visitors the
barns were spotless. Colonel Southward introduced them to the army’s
star polo player Lieutenant Ed Lt. James, a tall mustachioed young cavalry
officer.
“Sorry we didn’t win today,” Lt. James said, “We haven’t played
together as a team very long and as you could see the Manila team is
pretty damned good.”
“Hard fought game, Lt. James. You fellows accounted for yourselves
very well. Don’t you agree?” Jim Casey said, looking at Robert.
“Yeah, really,” Robert said, looking at Lt. James’s horse, “What’s his
name?”
“Bingo,” Lt. James said, “He stands almost 16 hands high and he’s
the best mount I’ve ever had. I’ve only just joined this division and he came
with the job. I’m pretty lucky.”

“How about joining us for drinks at the club, Lt. James,” Colonel
Southward said.
“Be happy to,” Lt. James said handing Bingo’s reins to his groom,
“See he gets extra grain tonight, Camacho. He’s had a good workout.” He
walked their group to the end of the barn and said, “I’ll just have a quick
shower and a change of clothes and I’ll see you in the club.
The officer’s club was full to overflowing. The crowd spilled out on a
verdant green lawn where a white tent was set up over tables and chairs.
The dad’s had organized a touch football game for the kids and small family
groups assembled on the lawn to watch. The Casey’s watched until Lt.
James came striding across the lawn towards them in highly shined riding
boots and a fresh uniform. He’s quite a swell, Robert thought; I’ll bet he’s
quite the ladies man.
Taking charge Lt. James brought chairs and a small table to the side
of tent, just under the shade. “What are you all drinking,” He asked.
Everyone ordered gin and tonic. Robert volunteered to go to the bar and
place their order. By the time he got back Jim and Lt. James were in
conversation over the virtues of different breeds of horses.
“The Spanish horses in Mexico are mainly of Arabian stock,” Jim
said, “They’re pretty tough so they make good trail horses.”
“We had a couple of Arabs at Military Academy,” Lt. James said, “I
didn’t get any experience with them but the guys who did liked them a lot.”
“Lieutenant, we need to find some mules to pack our gear into the

mountains. Do you know if any are available in the Philippines?”
“I don’t really, but I can ask our chief horse wrangler. I know there is
a livestock auction somewhere in Manila, and I imagine you can find mules
there. How many do you need?”
“Well it would nice to have six or so but we can make do with only
four if we have to. Yes, if we had four riding horses that would be good. Can
we find packs and riding gear as well?”
I’m sure,” Lt. James replied, “I can take off a few days and help you
get set up.”
“That would be great,” Jim said, “When would be good?”
“I’ll meet you in town tomorrow,” Lt. James replied, “I’ll go ask my
boss. He’s probably belly up to the bar inside the club.”
In minutes Lt. James was back wearing a big grin, “He said okay, he
thinks I’m in love with some girl downtown. He told me just don’t come
back with the clap.”
Robert, putting on a straight face, said, “Can you get the clap from a
mule?”
That got the laugh from everyone he expected. Within minutes
Robert and Lt. James had decided to head for town in Lt. James’s red
Buick convertible, leaving Caleb Bingham and Casey senior to drive back
later themselves. As, they left to get Lt. James’s overnight bag, Colonel
Southward looking at Jim, said, “Don’t worry about your boy. Lt. James’s
somewhat of a hellion but he knows his way around in Manila.”

They were just getting into their second round of drinks when three
officers approached their table. “Gentlemen, Let me introduce our
commanding officer, General Wainwright, and Colonel Eisenhower, and
Major Ord,” Colonel Southward said.
“I’ve met General Wainwright, and Jim and I both know Colonel
Eisenhower and Major Ord,” Bingham said, “General Wainwright, this is
Jim Casey. Jim’s a relative newcomer to the Philippines. He’s out here to
advise us on possible mineral deposits in the islands.”
“Good to meet you sir,” Jim said, extending his hand.
“You’re a mining engineer,” Wainwright said, grinning at Jim,
“Because if you are, I wish you’d find something besides paddy fields worth
defending out here. These civilian scoundrels like Bingham here, keep
telling me that it’s worth riding all over hell and back in one thousand
degree heat, to make sure this place doesn’t fall into the hand of the Japs.”
Caleb, laughing, said, “Now General, you know the Philippines is the
number one place in the whole of the Pacific to get a decent bottle of 190
proof rum.”
“Well, he’s got me there,” Wainwright said ruefully, “That, and the
beer’s good and cheap, “ turning to Eisenhower and Ord he said, “Do you
gentlemen want to set awhile while I go make the rounds. Colonel
Southward, can I steal you for a while to come with me. I can’t remember
all the junior officers, and their wives names.”
Eisenhower and Ord were the wheel horses of MacArthur’s staff in

the Philippines. They shared the same cable address; IKEORD and each
trusted the other explicitly. Most important of all they were close friends.
Jim Casey asked, “What brings you fellows up to Stotsenberg, the polo
game?
“Not really,” Ord answered, “Ike and I are taking flying lessons here
at Clark Field. We finished flying early, and then came over to see what’s
going on. We’re being treated like royalty around this flying thing. Nobody
wants to be responsible for Mac’s two best staff officers smacking into a
rice paddy and loosing an airplane. So, I figure they’ll let us solo in about 10
years.”
“How do you like flying?”
Ord grinned. “Next to chasing women it’s the best thing I’ve ever
done. What about you, Ike.”
“No doubt about it,” Ike said, “You get up there with the wind blowing
in your face and it gives you a great sense of being free. I should have done
these lessons years ago. I hate to think of all those years I’ve wasted
playing cards.”
“I could never get my wife to let me get anywhere near a flying field,”
Jim said, “She knew what talent I had for flying and she wouldn’t hear of
it.”
“Same here,” said Ike, “Mamie finally said okay, after I threatened to
get a girl friend. I think she thought I meant it.”
“Well, the main thing is that we’re doing it,” Ord said, “How about you

Jim, any hobbies.”
“Oh, I guess you could say I’ve got the gold bug. Nothing fires me up
so much as finding a nugget in a stream some place. Besides I really like the
outdoors. Of course I’m trained to find other minerals besides gold. I found
the Chrome deposits in Northern California. It’s a small but pretty good
industry there now.”
“That’s why he’s here, Jim. The Secretary of the Interior sent him.”
Ike said, “He also plays golf. We’ve got to get him out on the links and see if
we can’t take some of that gold away from him in a friendly game.”
Ord laughed. “That’s a kick. He digs the stuff and you try to steal it
on a golf course. That’ll be the day, Ike. He’s a terrible golfer Jim. I wouldn’t
be too afraid of loosing any bet on a round of golf with Ike.”
Jim laughed, “You haven’t seen me play.”
“How about a round on Tuesday,” Ike said, “We can have lunch at the
Army Navy Club first. That way we can get in a full round before the sun
goes down.”
“Sounds good to me.”
As the sun slipped lower in the sky, the horizon took on a golden
glow. Mount Pinatubo hovered above the plain to the west. The outlines of
its edges were bathed in the soft evening light. As the shadows lengthened
across the lawn at Fort Stotsenberg Jim Casey and Caleb Bingham headed
home in the Packard sedan. Five miles from the Fort the congestion
increased on the road until traffic stopped completely. Caleb’s driver got

out of the car and talked with a truck driver just ahead of the two cars in
front.
“What’s happening?” Jim asked.
“He stopped to tell me that there’s been a bandit attack on the road.
The police are investigating and there’s an army car up there. Someone’s
been killed,” the driver said, “It could be the Huks, or maybe just some
drunk with a gun who wanted money.
“What are Huks,” Jim asked.
“It’s short for Hukbalahap,” Bingham said, “They’re communist
brigands that roam the countryside trying to start a revolution. We know
they have some connections to the Chinese communist party because they
use a half-assed translation of Mao’s manual on guerrilla war to train their
members.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” Jim said.
“Most people haven’t,” Bingham replied, “It’s just a small group
judging by what we know. Its leader is a guy named Luis Taruc. Most
Filipinos haven’t heard of him either.”
“Is communism a big problem in the Philippines,” Jim asked.
“I don’t really think so. The real problem is the poverty. The elite
families own most of the big estates and pay their workers just enough to
keep them from starving.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly the situation in Mexico. Makes it nice if you’re
at the top of the heap but terrible if you’re not.”

Traffic started to move and gradually picked up speed. Then they
saw the scene of the shooting. A black sedan was upended in a ditch at the
side of the road. Half dozen police cars with flashing lights were parked
along the side of the road. They tried to see what had happened but it was
almost dark and they were past the car almost before they could focus on
it. It was almost midnight before they reached the hotel. As Jim exited the
car Bingham said, “Look, I think I’d better pass on that golf game. I’ve got
too much to do in the office.”
“Thank Eisenhower for inviting me and tell him let’s do it again when
I get a break.”
“Sure,” said Jim, “And thanks Caleb, for the nice day. I had a good
time. Have a good night.”

Chapter 14
Lt. Rose Ryan
Rose Ryan was born in San Francisco, and grew up in a big Irish-
American Catholic family. She was the baby of the family. Her five brothers
adored and teased her unmercifully as she was growing up. Her father, Al
Ryan was a longshoreman and a labor organizer.
Her mother Sarah took in sewing the whole time the children were
growing up. Because of this, she told Rose from the time she was old
enough to understand, “A woman’s got to have a profession, Rose,
otherwise she’ll just wind up working herself to death for no reason.”
Straight out of High School, Rose was given a place in the nursing
class at St. Luke’s Hospital. Then just a week before she graduated disaster
struck. Al Ryan was killed in a longshoreman’s strike when the police
charged a picket line. Her mother, already an embittered woman, became
more and more morose and finally in a deep depression she ended her own
life.
Bishop Moran delivered a scathing sermon on the evil of suicide in
his sermon the following Sunday, and the church forever lost Rose Ryan as
a practicing Catholic. Not long after, she read the army’s recruiting
brochure describing an idyllic posting to the closest place to heaven on
earth, the Philippines. Rose joined the Army Nurse corps, She signed on at
the earliest possible moment and shipped out from Fort Mason sailing
under the new Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco for an assignment in

the colony.
In Manila on “boat days” almost the entire military population of the
surrounding area showed up to greet the ship and welcome newcomers and
friends returning from home leave. When the SS President Pierce sailed
into Manila Harbor carrying Rose Ryan and fifteen other young nurses to
their posts, she was sure that this was just what she’d been looking for.
The impressions grew stronger as they were carried away to the
Army-Navy club, a cool gin drink, and lavish reception. She was assigned to
the Sternberg Army Hospital on Manila’s south side. This was by far the
best place for a nurse to work in the entire colony. Within days, news of
Rose’s arrival spread in the Army community. Rose Ryan’s beauty, and red
hair was destined to become legendary in the Philippine Division.
The nurses’ quarters at Sternberg Hospital had windows facing in
the direction of Manila Bay. The hospital grounds were lush with
frangapani, palms, and dense colonies of bougainvillea. Rose particularly
liked the gardenias that flowered everywhere. Her room was instantly
transformed into the semblance of a conservatory. As her collection of
seashells grew she had the carpenter shop build her shelves around the
windows of her room to house them. Now, nearly a year into her stay in the
Philippines, Rose Ryan was besieged with requests for dates. The
requesters ranged from eligible bachelors to married men whose eligibility
might or might not be obvious.
Gathering at breakfast, the nurses discussed their plan for Sunday’s

activities.
“I’m sick of our crowd of men friends,” Rose announced, “I’m going to
the tea dance this afternoon to see if there isn’t somebody who is more
than just a “good time charley.”
Livia Brown, a tall thin blonde from Alabama responded, “Heaven’s
sake, just you all listen to her, she’s already gone through all the best
looking men in these parts, and she’s still not satisfied.”
“Oh shush, Liv. You should talk,” said Captain Susie Clark, deputy
chief of nursing in the Philippines, “I’ve been here three years, and in the
year since you came, you’ve put many a pretender to the throne’s record to
shame. You are the empress of most of what you survey.”
“Besides Susie, Rose here’s got flamin’ red hair,” said another, “She’s
at a disadvantage with her alabaster skin and all. You know she can’t hang
around the pool, she comes out looking like a cooked lobster.”
“That’s right, girls. That’s why I’m going dancing this afternoon,”
Rose said, standing up and executing a quick turn while throwing her skirt
up.
As they roared south in the red convertible, Lt. James said, “Okay
Robert, what about going to the dance at Sternberg Hospital later this
afternoon. There are a lot of pretty good-looking gals over there. Have you
got any dress-up clothes at your hotel?”
“Sure,” Robert said, “I had a white suit in Hong Kong. It was cheap
but it looks pretty good. I’ll have to get the guy at the hotel to sponge off my

Jacket. The last time I wore it I spilled wine on the front. By the way
Lieutenant you look great in that uniform.”
“Call me Ed,” Lt. James said, “Yeah, I had this made in Hawaii, by a
Chinese tailor, on the way out here. I wish I had waited until I got to Manila.
It would have been a lot cheaper. We get a clothing allowance but it would
have been nice to pocket the difference.”
“So, we can get some clothes made here pretty cheaply?”
“Oh, Absolutely. I use a Chinese place that makes anything you want.
They can copy the latest fashions if you’re into that sort of thing.”
Arriving at the hotel, Lt. James parked the car on the street and
they went in. They ran into Richard Sakamoto in the lobby and Robert
introduced him to Lt. James. Sakamoto said, “Good to meet you. I think I’ve
seen you before in Minney’s Club. Have you been there?”
“Yes, I go there all the time. I’ve got a friend there who’s a dancer in
the show.”
“What’s her name, “ Sakamoto said, I’ve a friend who does the same
thing.”
“Velodia,” Lt. James replied, “She’s a White Russian. Pretty good
looking, and a lot of fun”.
Sakamoto looked surprised “I know her, she’s great to be with. I like
the way she says “Dalink.”
Robert went off to shower and change clothes while Sakamoto and
Lt. James sat down to talk after ordering iced tea at the front desk. “So,

you’re from Hawaii,” Lt. James said, “I’ve only been there once on my way
out here. Our ship stopped in Honolulu for two days and I had a pretty good
time there. I don’t remember much I was drinking too much. But, I had a
good time.”
Sakamoto laughed and said, “Yes, Honolulu has a lot of bars and
clubs. I lived on the other side of the island. My folks own a small sugar
plantation and they kept me working all the time so I didn’t get out to
Honolulu very often. I got pretty tired of living like that so I shipped out on
a freighter and then jumped ship here to try my luck in Manila. I’ve got a
job here with Marston Company, the Sears Roebuck agents. The pay’s
pretty good and so far the work’s been pretty easy. What do you do?”
“Well as you can see I’m in the Cavalry. I’m a horse soldier. I’ve been
Platoon leader of Troop G, Second Squadron, 26th Regiment, for about 3
months now. I like it. My platoon’s got a sergeant, a corporal, and 25
troopers. All of them are Filipino Scouts. They’re a pretty sharp bunch and
my job’s to train them in mounted and dismounted drill, and combat
tactics”.
“Sounds good. Do you think this conflict with Japan will heat up?”
“It’s funny,” Lt. James responded, “Before I got out here none of my
friends or I gave any thought to Japan. As soon as I got here I found that’s
what everyone in the army here was talking about. Frankly, it’s a bit
worrying. We’ve only got a little over thirty thousand troops equipped,
trained, and ready to go. I’d trust my guys in any fight because I know

they’re ready, but the reserve units are pretty scruffy. Some units are
training with really old equipment; they have rifles with no working parts.
Big question is what would Japan throw at us. In the newsreels I’ve seen of
their army in China they show tanks, artillery, and tactical air force
planes. We’re just getting new planes and our guys are just taking them out
of crates. They have to be assembled and tested out. Then there’s training
to do.”
“That’s interesting. Frankly, I don’t know anything about the
military. We have a big navy base in Hawaii and there’s Scofield Barracks
near my folks place but I never visited either one, Personally, I’m glad I am
a civilian. I’d hate to see a war between Japan and the United States. My
folks still have relatives in Japan. I am planning to visit there on my way
back home.”
“Do you speak the language?”
“Yes,” Sakamoto said, “We spoke Japanese at home, and my parents
sent me to Japanese school every Saturday. The guys from Japan that live
here in the hotel are always kidding me about using old sounding phrases. I
guess I sound a little funny to them.”
“Would you say these people are loyal to Japan? If we get in a war
who would they support?”
“That’s a good question,” Sakamoto said, “I’m an American so I just
never thought about that. I’ll have to guess but I’d say they’d try to get the
first boat out of here for Japan.”

“Well, if anything happens they’d be the first people we’d throw in
Jail,” Lt. James responded, “We can’t have subversives running around.”
“I suppose not, Oh! Here comes Robert. Where are you people
headed?”
“Over to a tea dance at Sternberg Hospital. The army nurses throw
one just about every Sunday afternoon from five to seven,” Lt. James said.
“Sounds good,” Sakamoto said, “I’ve got a meeting here in an hour,
and so I am just hanging around.”
The owners of the hotel, Mr. and Mrs. Fujita, were coming by to
introduce their lawyer friend. They were very fond of Richard Sakamoto
and only the Sunday before had asked him if he would agree to be adopted
by them.
“We are childless, so you would be doing us a great honor. We have no
one to carry on the family name and when we pass on, the hotel will need
someone to look after it,” they explained, “The main thing is that we really
like you and know that you are a very good person.”
“I am surprised that you think I am worthy of such an honor,”
Sakamoto said, “Naturally, I will want some time to think it over.”
“It’s wonderful that you will think about it,” Mrs. Fujita said, “Let’s
meet next Sunday.”
Richard Sakamoto agreed to meet with them. Then, in the middle of
the week Mr. Fujita left a note saying that he was going to be bringing his
attorney friend to explain the process of adoption and answer any

questions Richard might have.
No harm in meeting him, Sakamoto thought. He’s probably going to
be a stickler for detail being Japanese and a lawyer. As the day grew for the
meeting drew closer he began to have vague worries about the Fujita’s and
their reaction if he turned them down. He liked them both and didn’t want
anything to damage their relationship. He hoped the lawyer would have
reasons it wouldn’t work out.
The Fujita’s arrived before the lawyer showed up. “Richard, good to
see you.” Mr. Fujita said, “Our lawyer’s name is Clarence Yamagata. He’s a
Japanese-American from Hawaii just like you. He said he might be a few
minutes late, do you mind?” “No, that’s fine,” Richard said, “Would you like
some tea?” “Oh, don’t bother Richard, Mrs. Fujita said, “I can get it. I
brought some biscuits to have with our tea. They’re from Japan.
Clarence Yamagata was tall for Japanese. He’d been given a
basketball scholarship to the University of Hawaii and was an outstanding
point guard. He had an easy manner, and was well liked at the American
Embassy where he was its legal consultant and advisor.
“Good to meet you, Richard,” Yamagata said, Mr. and Mrs. Fujita
have told me a bit about you but I’d like to ask you a few questions before
we talk further. Do you mind?”
“That’s fine.”
“You’re an American citizen,” Yamagata inquired.
Sakamoto nodded.

“Naturalized or Native Born?”
“I was born in Kaneohe,” Sakamoto said, “In a midwife’s clinic.
Actually it was just a spare room in her house. Most of my school chums
were born there.”
“So, you’re a native born Hawaiian,” Yamagata grinned, “Just like
me.”
Richard detected an immediate change in Yamagata’s attitude. He
became less the efficient lawyer.
“I haven’t been home in five years,” Yamagata said, “Every year I tell
my wife, this year we’re going, then work always piles in and I completely
forget to go. Maybe we can go for Christmas this year.” Then he changed
the subject. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” Richard said, “It’s been three months or so. I left home on
a lark, shipped out as a deck hand on a tramp freighter. It was a miserable
trip. I was seasick the whole trip. Manila was the first port of call. I decided
to jump ship and look around the islands. Then, I landed a job with Marston
Company. So far I’ve really enjoyed my stay here. It’s a been lot easier with
friends like the Fujitas.”
“We’ll have to get together and talk more about Hawaii,” Yamagata
said, “My wife will jump at the chance to talk with someone from my home
place. She keeps saying that she doesn’t believe a thing I say about Hawaii,
because it couldn’t be that perfect.”
“So, she’s never been there?”

“No, she was born here in the Philippines. Her parent’s immigrated
here years ago so she’s really a lot like a Filipino. She went to Christian
Bible College, and we met at the Baptist Church here in Manila.”
“So you’re a Christian?”
“Not really. But my wife is,” Yamagata said, “Our two daughters are
Christians so I am surrounded.”
“My folks are Buddhists,” Richard said, “But I’m an atheist. I am just
not interested in religion.”
“That’s how I am,” Yamagata said, “Well, I guess we should get down
to business. Have you ever been to Japan, or did your parents register your
birth with the Japanese consulate in Honolulu?”
“I’ve never been there,” Sakamoto said, “But I am planning to visit
there on my way home. My parents never mentioned that they did
anything about registering me except with the local government when I
was born. Just to get a birth certificate. I have a US Passport.” “Good, Are
you aware that the Fujitas are citizens of Japan. They have permanent
residency in the Philippines but if they adopt you they might require you to
renounce your American citizenship. I’ll check on that with the Japanese
Embassy. Since the United States doesn’t officially recognize dual
citizenship you might have difficulty keeping your American passport. It
would probably be okay until it expires, and you want to renew it.” “I see,”
said Sakamoto, “I haven’t really made up my mind about this yet. I have to
consider my mother’s feelings and ask her what she thinks. I don’t think

she will think much of the idea.”
“Good, well let me look into it, and you consider what you want to
do,” said Yamagata, “There isn’t any real hurry about this. I’ll call you after
I’ve talked with the Japanese Embassy.”
The Fujitas were not able to follow the conversation because their
English wasn’t very good. Yamagata explained what they had been talking
about and when he’d finished they smiled and said they understood.
Sakamoto was feeling slightly relieved at this point. Yamagata got up to
leave. “Here take my card. Phone me if you have any questions. I’d like to
meet you next week. There’s something you may be able to help me with.”
“Fine, I’ll plan to call, and then stop by next week. When would be
good?
Mornings are best, before I get into the day’s work. Why don’t we
plan on having breakfast at the Manila Hotel? How about on Tuesday?”
“I look forward to it.”
What Yamagata did not tell Richard was that on the previous
Wednesday Caleb Bingham had called him to the State Department offices.
The reasons he had done so were very unusual.
“I received a confidential cable from Washington,” Bingham said,
“They asked me if we could manage to register all the people of Japanese
ancestry in the Philippines. They sent a list of questions they want to
gather information about. I am not at liberty to disclose the exact contents
of the cable to you, but I need to get your opinion on the feasibility of doing

this.”
“Gee, that’s a tough one,” Yamagata said, “Is this legal?”
“I have no idea,” said Bingham, “Like most things the government
does, it’s do it first, and ask questions later.”
“I get the drift,” Yamagata said, “From a practical point of view, I
guess anything is possible. You’d have to have the manpower to get it done.
Then, I guess it’s just a question of how fast you want to finish the job.”
“I’ve got a little time before the deadline to answer the cable. Please
see what resources you’d need. Consider that your office can do it under
our regular time and materials contract. In the meantime, I’ll try to find
out more about any dead line.”
“Caleb, is this about a possible war with Japan? I’ve been trying to
follow the negotiations in Washington but news reaches us so late here it’s
hard to keep up.”
“I know,” Bingham said, “It’s not much easier in our offices. If I have
to make a guess, I’d say that Secretary of State Hull and the President are
considering something like an extension of the embargo on aviation
gasoline to other raw materials and, maybe something like a freeze on
Japanese assets in the United States. Just a guess you understand.”
“I’ve got some yen at the office. It’s money I got from my Japanese
clients,” Yamagata said, “I guess I’d better convert it into greenbacks.”
“Not a bad idea,” Bingham said, “That’s exactly what I’d do. Well,
that’s about it. I’ll call you if I can find out anything more. You call me when

you’ve considered how to get the job done, and estimate how much it will
cost.”
Meeting Richard Sakamoto looked like a stroke of good luck,
Yamagata thought. If I can get him to help us out that would be great. He
speaks Japanese and living at the Hotel could be a big advantage, because
if he were willing it would make it a lot easier to contact the Japanese
business community. I’ll bet he knows several hundred people already and
he can use the ones he knows to contact their friends.
A Filipino orchestra was playing the latest swing tunes at the tea
dance. The room was filled with dancing couples, and the bar was crowded
when Lt. James and the Robert Casey arrived. Lt. James plunged right in
and shouldered his way to the bar. He ordered champagne from the bar
keep and turned to survey the scene. “What should we do,” Robert asked,
“Do we want to try and find a table?”
“Not, yet,” Lt. James said, “Lets, walk around a little and see if we
can find some of the people I know.”
Robert followed Lt. James with their drinks held high squeezing
through the crowd. “Gee whiz, this place is crowded, isn’t it,” said Robert.
Lt. James stopped and began talking to two young women. As Robert
moved closer he said, “Vicky this is Robert Casey, he’s a newcomer to
Manila.”
“Hello, I’m Vicky Richmond, and this is my friend Rose Ryan.”

God, this girl’s got really beautiful red hair, Robert thought as he
took her hand.
“Hi! Call me Robert. Do you work here in the Hospital?”
“I’m Rose it’s nice to meet you. Yes, I do work here, I’m an operating
room nurse.”
“That sounds impressive. What part of the States do you come
from?”
“San Francisco,” Rose laughed, “I’m a true girl of the golden west.”
“Really, I was born there”, Robert said, “St. Luke’s Hospital on
Kearney Street.
“That’s where I did my nurses training,” Rose said, “So did you grow
up in the city?”
“When I was young my parents were in Mexico and I stayed with my
grandparents on Pacific Heights,” Robert said, “Then, I went to the
University of California in Berkeley in civil engineering.”
“So, are you in the Army Corps of Engineers?”
“Gosh no,” Robert said, I’m not in the Service. I’m just a lowly
civilian. I came out to the Philippines to help my Dad. He’s doing some
consulting work for the Philippines Government looking for minerals. I
guess we’ll be climbing around in the mountains pretty quick.”
“That seems pretty exciting,” Rose said, “I love the outdoors myself.”
My dad used to take us on summer trips to Lake Tahoe in the Sierras. I can
actually do some rock climbing.”

“Now you’re talking,” Robert said excitedly, “I can’t wait see what it’s
like in the mountains here. Have you had a chance to get out in the
countryside?”
“No, I haven’t, but I am planning to take some leave and go exploring.
I don’t know if I can get anyone around here to go with me. Most of my
friends are city girls.”
“Would you like to dance,” Robert said, “I’m pretty rusty but I think I
can keep from doing you any serious injury. We can talk later about how I
am going to invite you to go mountain climbing.”
Lieutenant Lt. James was already on the dance floor with Livia
Brown. As Robert and Rose walked on to the floor, the orchestra struck up
a slow dance. Robert took Rose in his arms and she moved close as they
danced. To Robert it was a magical experience. Rose seemed as if she
floated on invisible gossamer wings. She moved complete harmony with his
every move. When the dance was over she came away from the dance floor
with a dazzling smile, her arm rested in his elbow.
“Well, you two look happy,” Lizzie Clark said, “What’s going on?”
Rose Ryan laughed and said mysteriously, “Well, we’re mountain
climbers, and we just came down from the mountain.”
A young naval officer approached their group and was introduced to
Lt. James and Robert. “This is Lieutenant Tim Turner,” Rose said, “Tim, I’d
like you to meet Ed. James, and Robert Casey. Tim is a submariner, guys.
He can talk to you endlessly about his wonderful motors.”

Turner blushed and said, “Well what can I say after that
introduction.”
Well, I’m a cavalryman, and I can talk to you endlessly about my
horse.”
Everyone laughed and Turner looked at the Robert, “What do you
do?”
“He pokes around in the mountains and I am going to take Robert off
and find out just where he keeps his valuable minerals,” said Rose, “I’ll let
the rest of you know just as soon as I crack the case.”
“My, Oh my,” Livia Brown said, looking at Lt. James, “Your friend
certainly has made an impression on our Miss Ryan.”
“Can I try to make an impression on you, Miss Brown,” Said Lt.
James, “Come right this way and I’ try to spin you into trouble,” steering
her onto the dance floor.
When they returned, Lieutenant Turner said “Looks like this party is
well on its way to being a success, I’d better get myself a drink and try to
catch up.”
“I’ll go to the bar with you, Tim,” said Lt. James, “Can I get you
another drink Lizzy? Don’t run away we’ll be right back.”
People were six deep at the bar. Ed James and Tim Turner talked as
they waited their turn. “What kind of Sub is your boat,” Lt. James asked.
“It’s a fleet boat,” Turner said, “It’s nearly new. It came off the ways
in thirty-nine. It’s the biggest model in the fleet. Pretty good range over

6,000 miles. It’s got the latest GM diesels. The most reliable engine ever
made is how they’re advertised. In my own experience I’d say that’s about
right.”
“You’re part of a squadron right,” Lt. James said.
“Yeah, Boat’s name is the ‘USS Trout, SS191,’ Turner said, “Our
squadron is SubRon2, Asiatic Fleet. That’s just temporary. We’ll probably
be going back to our old outfit in Hawaii. I joined the boat during a refit in
San Diego. Then we came out here. Stopped in Pearl Harbor on the way to
pick up some of our crew. We got here in April.”
“Sound like me,” Lt. James said. I left San Francisco, stopped at
Honolulu got here in June. Are you a member of the officers club?”
“Sure,” Turner said, “I guess just about everyone is. How do you like
the place.”
“It’s pretty wild,” Lt. James said, “My biggest problem is figuring out
how to turn my weekends into weeks and vise-versa. The supply of women
out here seems inexhaustible if you don’t mind the local ladies. It only took
twelve horny days on the ship to get me used to anything.”
Tim Turner leaned back on his heels in mock surprise. “Why Ed, I
thought a southern boy like your self would be stick’n to his own kind.
What ever you do, don’t let any of the nurses hear about your local
adventures,” he said as he drew his index finger across his mouth, “You’ll
be drummed out of the corps.”
Lt. James hurriedly looked around. “I know. What’s a guy going to

do? These nurses want a lot more than a quick role in the hay. I see
marriage signs in their eyes.”
By the time the evening was over Rose and Robert had agreed on a
dinner date at midweek, and Lt. James and Turner were engaged in an
argument over which service was more important. Finally, they agreed to
visit each other’s place of business and compare notes. Lt. James dropped
Robert back at the hotel, and then checked in at the Army-Navy club.
Richard Sakamoto sat at the desk in his hotel room, head in his
hands. For the first time since his arrival in Manila he felt divided in his
loyalties. He had always considered himself a loyal American. It wasn’t a
question in his mind he just was loyal. That was all there was to it. It had
all started months ago in Hawaii. The week before he was to graduate with
honors, a man in a business suit visited his school. Two days later the same
man showed up at his house. He identified him self as Major Raymond
Nelson, U.S. Army. The card carried a downtown business address at the
federal building annex. He asked Richard to take a drive in his car. He then
drove to the beach, parked and then began to explain that the Army
needed Japanese-Americans for special jobs in the service. He told Richard
that if he were interested he would be inducted, trained, and at the end of
training, commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the reserve. The job might
involve Foreign Service. He would draw an extra allotment of pay while he
was working overseas, and best of all, he would be given money to return
home on leave when he had accumulated enough service time. He was not

to tell anyone about the meeting and he had exactly one week to make up
his mind. If he had any further questions he was to come to the address on
the card and he would provide answers to anything else he wanted to know
about. Then he drove Richard back to his home.
In spite of Richard’s academic success his future didn’t seem to hold
much promise. He had a part-time job in pineapple packing shed, and the
promise of a clerk’s job in an office on the docks in Honolulu. College was
out of the question, not enough money. He stopped by the local Army
recruiting office and asked about the possibility of a commission. He was
told that if he enlisted he could then take his chances with the officer’s
candidate school examination. No guarantees of course, sorry. He tried the
Navy. It was pretty much the same story. Then, he asked his mother if she
would mind if he went into the Army. She told Richard that it was all right
with her if that was what he really wanted.
On the Monday after his graduation, he went to the office address on
the card. The building was a nondescript beige two-story structure. Going
up the stairs he discovered that the only office on the second floor was
labeled “Nelson & Son’s, Attorneys. The entire office was divided into small
rooms crammed with filing cabinets. He inquired if a Major Nelson worked
there. The receptionist said, “Yes, Mr. Sakamoto he’s expecting you.
How did you know my name,” Richard said.
“Oh, that’s simple,” she said, “Your picture is on your file.”
He was ushered into a plain beige room. Major Nelson was working

at his desk. He looked up, motioned Richard to a chair and continued
writing. Then without looking up he said, “What can I do for you.”
“I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about what I’d be
doing.”
“Good, you’re interested then,” Nelson said, “Sign this agreement,
and then we can talk. It’s a simple secrecy agreement in which you agree
never to reveal any of what I am going to discuss with you to any third
party.”
He then handed the paper to Richard. It already bore the date and
Nelson’s signature as witness. Richard’s mind was racing as he read the
agreement. It seemed simple enough so he signed.
“Good,” said Nelson, “That’s done. This is the office of the Army
intelligence section in Hawaii. In army lingo it’s referred to as ‘G2’ which
means the branch of the service charged with collecting information about
enemies of the United States. We have two basic kinds of work. One is
gathering information on foreign enemies, and second, counter
intelligence, that is, trying to prevent our enemies from finding out about
our own secrets.
“I see, “ said Richard, “I gathered from what you said last week that
you wanted me to work on gathering information about Japan.”
“Smart conclusion,” Nelson responded, “We know that you can read,
write and speak, Japanese. Those are valuable skills considering that we
are having trouble with Japan right now in Asia.”

“How did you find out that,” Robert asked.
Nelson laughed, “Gathering information is our specialty.” He then
turned the open file on his desk around and revealed a letter from
Richard’s Japanese School. “Pretty simple, isn’t it. The head teacher told
us that you were the schools favorite student.”
“How much more do you know about me.”
“We know that you graduated at the top of your class. We know you
are well liked by your classmates. Your school yearbook is filled with your
pictures, etc. We know that you’d like to go to college but lack the money to
do it. Most important of all, we know that you love your country and, know
why you do.”
Then Major Nelson slid a copy of an essay Richard had written for
his civics class across the desk. The subject had been, “Why I love my
country.’ The Honolulu Advertiser had published it for the entire world to
see.
“I am impressed,” Richard said, “You people are pretty good at
finding out about a person.”
“Now, the next piece of business is for you to talk to Lieutenant
Grove. He’s going to conduct the interview in Japanese. Are you up for
that?”
Lt. Grove was a spare, acetic looking man in horn-rimmed glasses.
Richard judged him to be about thirty years old. Lt. Grove spoke perfect
Japanese. He even had the manners of a Japanese. Richard felt the

inadequacies of his own spoken Japanese and apologized for his accent.
Grove ignored his apology and kept firing one question after another at
Richard. After two hours of giving rapid-fire answers to the quiz Lt. Grove
conducted. Grove said in English, “That will be quite enough Mr. Sakamoto.
Thank you for talking with me.” Then he walked out the door of the
interview room.
Richard exhausted by the ordeal, sat wondering if he had passed the
examination. That guy’s Japanese sounded like he was a native speaker,
He must have been born in Japan, he thought.
Major Nelson called Richard into his office, “How about something to
drink, coffee or tea? I think I’ll have a cup tea.”
“Tea’s fine for me,” Richard said, “Lt. Grove’s Japanese is very good.
I was impressed.”
“Yes, well it should be he’s a graduate of Tokyo Imperial University,”
Nelson said. “Law Department. He’s talked to thirty other applicants and
he says you’re the best. Would you like to have this job? We can swear you
in this afternoon. Your commission will take a couple of weeks to get here
but in the meantime we can get down to work.”
“All this is so sudden, Richard said, “What will I be doing?”
Nelson laughed, “It’s a secret. Sign on and I’ll tell you. Actually, the
first thing will be a training course. Depending on how quickly you can get
through the training material, we can arrange an overseas assignment
quite quickly. You’ve already done a stint as a ROTC cadet officer in high

school so we can dispense with the basic training. That usually cuts six
weeks off the training time.”
Richard, trying to be practical asked, “Will I be paid during the time I
am training.”
“We can have you on the payroll this afternoon,” Nelson said.
Richard Sakamoto was immediately caught up in a whirlwind. A
physical examination followed his swearing in that same afternoon. The
next day he was one-on-one with a Master Sergeant who tested his physical
prowess in a session on a judo mat. Kendo was next. The Sergeant was very
quick but Richard managed to score a couple of points with his bamboo
sword. “You could be a black belt with a little honing of your skills,” the
Sergeant said, “You have a very relaxed and natural style.”
“Thanks, I had good teaching when I was a kid growing up.” Richard
said, “My Dojo Master was a sixth degree black belt from Japan.”
That same afternoon Richard was given an Army field manual, a pair
of earphones, and placed in front of a Mark IV field radio. An instructor in
civilian clothes sat down and explained, “The toughest part of this whole
course may be the Morse code. Some people have natural aptitude and
others never get the hang of it.”
Richard grinned, “I can send and receive at forty words per minute. I
love to operate. I learned it in ROTC.”
“Why don’t we give you a try. You may be a little rusty,” the
instructor said, sliding a crystal code oscillator, and sending key out from

the back of the bench.
Richard quickly tapped out a couple of CQ’s. The instructor
responded from a second oscillator and key. “I Am Lt. Charles
Diefenbacker, US Army, officer in charge of radio communications here at
the Intelligence Center. I look forward to working with you in the future”
Richard responded, “I am the new guy on the block, Richard
Sakamoto. How far away do you get messages from?”
“We communicate all over the world, but mostly in the Pacific as far
away as Australia and Singapore. We monitor radio traffic from Tokyo and
Korea. Our regular operators are among the best anywhere in the world.
The only rust I can see is probably in your telegraph key. Congratulations!
You are Morse code Qualified. Just for form’s sake why don’t you copy some
code off the air. Just pick any clear frequency and start now.”
Richard turned on the radio and let its vacuum tubes warm up. Then
he listened for an incoming signal by tuning across the marine short wave
band. He was quickly copying roman letters on a piece of paper. The
message was in ‘Romaji,’ Japanese written in Roman alphabet. The
message appeared to be about groceries.
It’s an order from a ship about provisions, a grocery shopping list,”
Richard laughed, “It’s probably a long-line tuna boat from Honolulu.”
“Yeah, we get a lot of this kind of traffic,” Diefenbacker said, “We’d
like to just ignore it but we have orders to listen to everything.”
Major Nelson stuck his head in the door. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s almost a fully qualified radio operator,” Diefenbacker said, “I’ll
take him out to the base and show him some antenna tricks. He can read
about our standard radio operating procedures, take a test on those, and
he’ll be ready to go. The best thing is, he can monitor Japanese traffic right
now.”
Then came the biggest shock of all. For some reason he had set in his
mind the idea that he would be going to Los Angeles. This notion had
occurred the first day that he talked with Nelson. Then, Major Nelson and
Lt. Diefenbacker drove him to Fort Shafter a few miles from downtown
Honolulu. Their car was swiftly passed through the gate, with a quick
salute from the guard. They parked and entered a building with a sign that
said G2 HQ and went into a room with a rostrum flanked by flags. The
ceremony that followed seemed to Richard Sakamoto to be over before it
began. He was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant, made a member of the CIP,
Corps of Intelligence Police, and given a mimeographed set of orders. He
didn’t even remember the commissioning Colonel’s name.
The orders came as a shock. He was being sent to the Philippines.
This couldn’t be. He was going to Los Angeles. On the return trip to the
office he sat in the back seat of the sedan in complete emotional disarray.
He remembered setting his face in an impassive lock but inside he was
reeling. The Philippines! The place was so far off his mental screen that he
couldn’t even remember where it was. It was just some where west of
Honolulu. The period of intense activity following that time had blotted out

much feeling. He remembered getting on the ship. It was an Army troop
transport loaded with several hundred infantry troops headed to take up
duty in the islands. Richard was quartered in a spare radioman’s berth on
the command deck of the ship. He ate his meals at the Captain’s table, but
spent most of his time in his tiny room sleeping. His orders, given at a pre
departure briefing, were to avoid contact with the troops traveling on the
ship. He would depart the ship in Manila under the cover of darkness and
be briefed by someone from the CIP detachment in the city. The trip had
been uneventful except for an occasional card game with the off duty ship’s
officers. The sea was calm the entire trip as the ship ploughed it’s way
across the Pacific.
When they arrived at Manila, a non-commissioned officer came
aboard the ship to pick up Richard and take him into the city. His
belongings were packed in the same cardboard suitcase his parents had
used when they arrived in Hawaii from Japan. It still smelled strongly of
the mothballs that his mother had used to protect her silk Kimonos. The
Kimonos had long ago been sold to help the family get by the lean times in
their adopted home. Besides, there was no place to wear them in rural
Hawaii. Richard’s wardrobe was scant. A couple of washed out khaki
uniform pants; underpants, white cotton singlets and four Hawaiian shirts
made an embarrassingly simple complement. Besides a toothbrush, a
straight razor, and a couple of Japanese-English dictionaries there wasn’t
much else.

For three days, Richard was housed in a bungalow on a military
base. His meals were brought in as the briefing continued. He was first
shown photographs and maps of the city and surrounding environment. He
kept asking about his assignment, but his briefing team kept saying, “That
comes at the end.” Gradually a mental map of the city took place in
Richard’s mind. The coordinates of the map were the city’s main features.
Its smell permeated the room. It’s a lot like Hawaii, he thought. It began to
dawn on him that he was going to be sent “under cover” when they showed
him pictures and related details about the Nishikawa Hotel. They had
pictures of the staff and permanent residents that had obviously been
taken surreptitiously in candid shots on the street.
Then the details of his future contacts with G2 were supplied. He
would be driven to this very bungalow by a taxi he picked up around the
corner from the hotel. The weekly debriefings would last twenty minutes to
half an hour at the most. He would then be taken to a bar in the
entertainment district and dropped off to find his way back to his room,
after a drink or two, on his own. If, for some reason he could not make the
weekly meeting, he could simply call a telephone number and when the
phone was picked up he could say, “Sorry, wrong number.” The people on
other end would know who was calling so, never mind about identifying
himself. It was at this point that he realized that he would be out on the
streets of Manila all by himself. He was sitting alone eating his lunch when
a young woman in a nurse’s uniform introduced herself. “Hello, Lt.

Sakamoto, my name is Lizzy Clark, Major, United States army. Then, he
saw the oak leaf clusters on her collars. Lizzy Clark explained what he
should do if he had an accident or became ill. He was to take a taxi to
Sternberg Hospital and ask for her and give the number 661. Even if she
were not on duty, someone would take care of him. “You won’t have any
military identification on you so, you might not get immediate attention
unless there is an emergency. Just be patient. I’ll get to you.” This
confirmed his suspicion. I’ll be out there as just plain me, he thought.
On the afternoon of the third day he received his official orders.
Beginning at 0700 hrs. The following day he was ‘going under cover.’ The
details of his pay, overseas allotment, and expenses were spelled out. He
was given a signature card of a local Philippines bank, and a savings
passbook in his name. The account had the equivalent of $2,000 US dollars
in Philippines Pisos deposited in it. He was instructed to assimilate into the
Japanese community of Manila as much and as widely as possible. He was
to report all persons who acted suspiciously and might be agents of Japan.
He should read the local Japanese newspapers for any significant or
unusual items. Above all he was to maintain complete secrecy so as not to
break cover for any reason. A final paragraph gave details of a cover job he
had been given at Marston & Co., local agents for Sears Roebuck &
Company.
Now, after several months Richard Sakamoto’s identity was being
challenged by the simple fact that an elderly Japanese couple wanted to

adopt him. The Japanese part of his being rebelled at the idea of the deceit
he was perpetrating every day. He was lonely, he admitted to himself. He
couldn’t be himself. I had better talk to my contact about this he decided.
Maybe, if he went to that nurse she would know what to do. He lay down on
the bed, thinking What if this is just a simple panic attack? I’ve had them
before. Once before exams, and once when I had to give that speech in front
of the whole student body. Relax. He was aware of his own breathing. Just
like my Kendo instructor said. Listen to my own breathe.
There was a knock on his door. He awoke instantly and sat up on the
bed. “Who is it,” he called out.
“It’s Robert Casey. I’m sorry were you asleep.”
“Just a moment. I’ll be right there.” He gave a quick look at himself
in the mirror on the way to the door. “I was just relaxing,” he said, “Come
in.”
“Sorry, about tonight,” Robert said, entering the room. “I felt bad
leaving you behind.”
“No, no, don’t worry,” Richard said, “I had a meeting with the old
couple that own the hotel. They want to adopt me.”
“They do,” Robert said, “Is that possible, I mean, how long have you
known them?”
“Only a little while really,” Richard responded, “It’s not so unusual.
In Japan families adopt boys all the time, especially if they haven’t got kids
of their own, or only have girls. It’s a matter of carrying on the family

name.”
“So, what are you going to do,” Robert asked.
“Big problem, Richard said, “When I left home my mother told me
that she wanted me to remember that I am an American. That even though
my grandfather and father had served in the Japanese Army, I had to
remember that I had to be loyal to my country, and if the occasion came up
I should do so honorably. Mr. and Mrs. Fujita are really good people. It’s a
great honor for them to even ask me. I can probably become a Japanese
citizen. But, then what can I do if a war breaks out between Japan and
America.”
“I can understand,” Robert said, “My mother was Mexican. She loved
her country and I love it to. I don’t know what I’d do if war ever broke out
between Mexico and us. My grandparents still live there and I’ve got all
kinds of really nice relatives there. It’s really my second home.”
“I’m glad you understand,” Richard said, “I was lying here thinking
there was nobody in the world to talk to. Then, you walk in and know
instantly how I’m feeling. On the surface I know it looks like no big thing.
And, I guess it really isn’t. I can just tell them I can’t do it. But it’s like I am
denying who I am, I’m half Japanese for crying out loud.”
Robert laughed, “Well, you look all Japanese to me. I’m the one who’s
half-Mexican. Look at my hair and moustache, all black. But then, I’ve got
blue eyes.”
“Well, you old half breed, how about a cup of coffee. I’ll buy. “You can

tell me about all the beautiful nurses you danced with.”
Late night coffee shops were to be found in abundance along the
avenue. The walked to one four blocks from the hotel. Once in side they
marveled at the way it imitated Ruby’s Café’s in the States right down to
the chromium plated bar stools a the counters and the red leatherette
cushions in the booths. Coke signs flanked the counter ends. The only
difference they could determine was the palms that punctuated the decor
at appropriate intervals. The sons and daughters of well-to-do families
packed into the booths just like teenagers at home.
“Gosh, said,” Richard, “This could be right in downtown Honolulu.”
“Or Los Angeles,” Robert added.
“So, tell me about the tea dance,” Richard said.”
“Well, I had a terrific time,” Robert said, “I met this absolutely
stunning nurse from San Francisco. She’s got red hair, and a very cute
figure. I fell in love the minute we started dancing. It was super the way she
followed my every move. The best thing is that she’s an outdoors person.
Likes to go to the mountains and she said that her dad even took her rock
climbing when she was a kid.”
Is she a nurse at one of the bases,” Sakamoto asked.
“She works in the emergency room at Sternberg Hospital. I’m not
sure if that’s on a base or what,” Robert said, “The best thing is she’s really
quick and ready with a reply to someone else’s remarks. We’re planning to
have dinner this coming Wednesday. Can you suggest some place nice I can

take her.”
“Well, you can always take her to the Manila hotel,” Richard said,
“That’s where the fancy folks eat. I’d be inclined to avoid that place because
it’s just too much, if you know what I mean. There’s a club that my friend
Velodia dances in that’s got good food at reasonable prices, and the floor-
shows much better than average. You might just hit it on a night when
some top talent from Hong Kong is entertaining. Also, you get to see how
the in crowd spends its time and money.”
“That sounds better than the Manila Hotel,” Robert said, “Where is
it.”
“It’s not far. We can go there before your date and you can check the
place out.”
Across town, her friends who gathered were debriefing Rose Ryan in
her room. “Ladies, he is a super dancer, he’s my type of handsome and I
think he’s the real thing. Best of all he’s not in the Army, or the Navy.”
Is he a Marine,” Lizzy Clark asked.
“No, he is a C-I-V-I-L-I-A-N,” Rose said, spelling it out.
They all broke out laughing, then Lizzie said, “What’s the next step?”
“That my dears, is a secret. Now please go back to your little rooms, I
need to get my beauty sleep.”
The live stock auction was held in a large shed that doubled as a
cock-fighting ring. The auctioneer was a large Filipino man with gold signet

rings and a deep voice. He talked rapidly in a strange mix of English, and
what sounded vaguely like Spanish. The bidders were clearly of two
classes. There were individuals who wanted one or two animals at most.
They looked like what Lt. James called, “The little people.” The second
class was the commercial buyers who were looking for larger lots of
animals slated for butchering or possible resale. When Lt. James and the
Casey’s arrived at the auction property a short Filipino man approached,
and introduced himself, “Good morning Lt. James, Feliciano’s my name,
you may remember me from Stotsenberg. I supply the Commissary at the
base with beef, and I buy the occasional horse for your Sergeant Smith. He
told me you’d be coming here this morning. He said you are looking for
some mules.”
“Yes, Feliciano, I remember you,” Said Lt. James, “This is Jim Casey,
and his son Robert. Tell Feliciano what you’re looking for Jim.”
“Nice, meeting you. Well, we’re not sure they even exist here in the
islands,” Jim said, “What we’re looking for are some good pack mules. Or, if
they’re not available, even burros would do.”
“So, you’ll be traveling in the mountains, or on the flatland,”
Feliciano asked.
“We’ll be using them mainly in the mountains,” Jim said, “We want
three that can be ridden with saddle and bridle, plus four more that we can
use to pack tools and supplies. We need all the gear as well, saddles, pack
saddles, bits and bridles, everything to make up a pack train.”

“Ah, that’s to bad,” Feliciano said, “The best mules in the Philippines
are not available here, only in Cebu at my cousin Soriano’s place. He raises
them for the sugar growers on the island. I can have him ship some up here
but I don’t know how long they would take to get here.”
“Cebu is where we need them,” Jim said, “Can you give me his name
and address, plus his telephone number?”
“I can do better than that,” Feliciano said, “I’ll go into the office and
I’ll call him right now. The horse auction is about to start. Why don’t you
have a look and I’ll meet you inside.”
The auctioneer was taking a break when they returned to the
auction. The stable boys were bringing the horses in, trotting them around
the ring, and then out, in a pre-auction showing of their wares. A small
group of professional buyers, agents and their clients were gathered on the
far side of the ring. Just as the auction for a pair of scraggy bay
workhorses started, Feliciano came in.
“We’re in luck, my cousin has the mules you need plus two good
horses,” he said, “He’ll make you a good deal, buy the lot, and you can trade
back any that don’t suit you. Let’s go over and have a cup of coffee and I’ll
give you the details.”
They crowded into a small shop across the road from the Auction
yard. Feliciano introduced then to the proprietor, a tiny black woman.
“This here’s Lolita. Married to a no good friend of mine.”
“Nice to meet you gentlemen,” Lolita said, “What can I get you?”

They ordered coffee. When it came, Jim tasted it and thought
Nescafe. There was no mistaking the familiar taste of the dried coffee. He
lit a cigarette and reached for the condensed cream can on the table.
“Cream, Sugar, anyone,” he asked.
Robert leaned forward to ask Feliciano about Lolita. “She’s so black”
he said, “What race is she,” he asked.
“She’s the only Negrito I know,” Feliciano said, “The Philippines has a
few of them but I don’t know much about them myself. I’ve never asked
Claro, her husband, where he met her.” Feliciano turned to Jim, “Here’s the
deal, and my cousin Soriano’s place is in Cebu City. When you get there, call
this number.” He passed a slip of paper to Jim. “Soriano’s got wagons,
Fresno scrapers, all kinds of stuff in a yard at his place. Anything you need,
he’ll have. When are you going to Cebu?”
“We haven’t decided,” Jim said, “Pretty soon. We’re waiting for some
equipment to get here from Hong Kong. It might get here in a week or so.”
“Well, I wouldn’t wait too long because Soriano’s a wheeler dealer. If
someone comes along and offers to buy the livestock you want, he might
just up and sell them.”
“It sounds like you might have a great deal here Jim,” Lt. James said,
“Let’s go back to the auction. I saw I horse I might be interested in buying if
it hasn’t been sold already.”
The auction was in full bloom when they returned. Two men were
bidding fiercely over a black mare that was barely five and a half- hand tall.

Then in the midst of the bidding they started to yell at each other. Fists
started flying. Quickly betting started in the crowd around the two men, as
they stood toe-to-toe slugging at each other. The bettors started yelling
loudly in Tagalog, urging their respective favorite to pour it on. The fight
was quickly over when two big stable hands stepped between the flailing
men and pulled them apart.
While Lt. James and Feliciano went back to the stalls, where the sale
horses were being kept, to look at a big rangy gelding that Lt. James had
spotted earlier, Jim and Robert discussed the situation. “I don’t like
waiting around here while we wait for the ship to bring our stuff,” Jim said,
“What the devil can we do in the meantime?”
“Look Dad, I can stay in Manila while you go to Cebu and pick up the
mules and horses,” Robert said, “Then when our stuff comes, I can bring it
down. I’m sure Li Song will help me. That way we can get started a lot
sooner.”
“I don’t like the idea of you staying in Manila alone,” Jim said, “You
haven’t been in the Philippines long enough to really know the place yet.”
“Don’t worry about me, Dad,” Robert said, “Richard Sakamoto’s at
the hotel, and he and I can pal around. If I really need help I can call Caleb
Bingham, and I did meet General Wainwright.”
Jim laughed, “Yeah, you call General Wainwright and he might clap
you into the Army. Then you’d find yourself charging around in the bushes
on a horse with Lt. James and his troopers.”

“More likely I’ll be charging around in the bushes with certain a navy
nurse, Rose Ryan,” Robert said, smiling.
“What’s this. A navy nurse,” Jim said grinning, “Where did you find
an American girl in this place?”
“I met her at that dance with Lt. James,” Robert said turning a little
red.
“Why I do believe you’re embarrassed, Jim said, “This must be
serious, and after only one night. okay, that’s decided. We don’t want
anything to stand in the way of cupid,” Jim laughed, “That settles it. I go to
Cebu, Robert and Miss Ryan, stay in Manila.”

Chapter 15
Visayan Islands: Cebu
The inter-island steamer left Manila’s waterfront at eleven o’clock in
the morning headed for Cebu. Jim Casey’s model A Ford taxi pulled up to
the pier a half an hour before departure. Jim hired a porter from a large
group of men holding their hands out, in front of the gate. The porter
carried his bag up the walkway to the gangplank and proceeded onto the
ship. The quayside was covered with families and friends of the passengers
getting on the ship. The crush was intense. A tiny woman with a baby in
her arms was going up the gangplank struggling with a large bag. Jim
offered to help her, and soon they were being pushed from behind into the
ship. They found the Porter waiting for them in the entranceway to a large
space in the middle of the ship. He motioned to a door on the far side of the
room. Jim followed him through to a wide deck on the other side of the ship
where people were busy putting their belongings into the rows of double
bunks lined up on the deck. The porter found an empty bunk in a corner
and deposited the bag. “It’s best to be on deck sleeping,” he said, “The inside
is too hot, and very shit with crying babies.”
Jim gave him three peso notes in payment. He smiled, waved
goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. Jim put his suitcase at the foot of
his bunk and sat watching the action. This is amazing he thought. I’ll bet
this ship is way over capacity when it leaves. This ship is a floating death
trap if you are inside and the thing goes over. I feel a lot better being out

here on the deck. Then he decided to walk around to the other side of the
ship in hopes of spotting where the lifeboats or rafts were stored.
The overnight trip to Cebu was the occasion for a party for almost all
of the travelers. Family groups everywhere were drinking and singing to
the music of guitars. Clusters of older folks played cards, and laughed and
joked over hands of cards, and bets gone awry. The main restaurant buffet
was perpetually full with partygoers coming and going. Casey walked the
ship from one end to the other in search of a place to sit and finally gave up.
Back at his bunks he watched a card game going on in the next bunk
between teenagers and their parents. Finally, he dozed off and slept fitfully,
until dawn came up suddenly, which he had discovered, is the way day
breaks in the tropics. In the early morning light off the starboard side of
the ship, Jim could see the Island of Cebu; it’s mountains shining out of the
morning mists that encircled their flanks, as the ship moved steadily down
the southern coast. He checked the map and judged that they were on
schedule to land at the Cebu port on time at mid- morning.
Cebu City’s port lay behind Mactan Island, surrounded by the city’s
multitude of small factories, and low class barrios where the poorer
inhabitants baked inside shacks and crumbling buildings. Along tree lined
streets, closer to the Ancient Spanish colonial buildings surrounding the
city center there was a central market district and beyond towards the
hills, large plots of land contained upscale homes marking the political
center of power on Cebu.

After the ship docked streams of people trudged away from the ship
towards destinations in the city. A long line of older vehicles converted to
taxies lined the dust-covered streets. The noise of the activities in the port
area, and the heat, even at eight o’clock in the morning, was oppressive.
Casey made his way through the crowd to the taxi boarding area and then
bargained for a ride to the city center and his destination The Casa Grande
Hotel. As the taxi entered its grounds via a large circular driveway, the
contrast between the serenity of the place and hurly-burly of the street was
impressive. He quickly realized the hotel was pretty posh and made a
mental note about Caleb Bingham’s liking for luxury accommodations.
‘Whatever, after a night of little sleep I am ready for a bath, a decent
breakfast and an hour or two of sleep.’ The remaining question was, do
should he call Soriano today, or wait until tomorrow. He decided to simply
wait and see what developed. No hurry really, I can stand a day or two of
rest after all that I’ve been doing.
When the taxi stopped, Jim stood on the running board of the car for
a moment contemplating the elaborate design over the main entrance
proclaiming the lineage of a proud building, before he stepped down to the
flagstone covered carriage way of the Hotel. Four porters converged on the
taxi, and in a few moments Casey was ushered into the lobby of the Casa
Grande and its welcoming cool interior. Jim presented his card at the front
desk and was told by the clerk on duty that the manager would be coming
to attend on him.

“Welcome to the Casa Grande Mr. Casey. How was your trip? Good, I
hope.” The manager approached him from a door opposite the front desk
and presented his card. At first Jim thought he was looking at a movie
featuring Adolph Menjou. The manager sported a perfectly modeled
moustache, and was dressed in a silver gray impeccably tailored suit with
white spats, and kangaroo-skin high top shoes. He could pass for royalty in
a minute, Jim thought. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Ayalla.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Ayalla responded, “Please come into
my office. I will have the staff arrange your suite while we chat. You must
be thirsty. Would you like something to drink”
“Frankly, Mr. Ayalla, I am in need of a bath and some breakfast. I
haven’t eaten yet and I’m feeling a little scruffy.”
“Yes, of course. I understand. Let me tell you that we are here to
serve you. We have a tradition of hospitality to uphold here at the Casa
Grande, so please do not hesitate to call upon us. I can arrange for
breakfast to be brought to the suite of course they are complements of the
house. Just a moment, please,” he said as he went out the door.
This place is just like the hotel we stayed in at Guadalajara, Jim
thought. It’s so Mexican. No of course it is Spanish. When Ayala returned,
Jim said, “I don’t really know much about this part of the world. I know
that this was a place Magellan stopped on his way around the world.”
“Magellan! Yes, yes,” Ayalla said, “I am the author of a modest
monograph on the subject and I would be happy to give you a copy if you

are interested. He is of considerable local interest as you may know.”
Ayalla’s eyes were sparkling in a way that signaled a private passion.
“Oh, I’m interested in finding out more,” Jim said, “I can read it
today, and if I have any questions I’d like to talk to you Tomorrow if you
have time.”
“I am delighted to be of service,” Ayalla said reaching into his desk,
“this is only my modest effort, but you may find some things of interest in
it. And, by all means let’s talk in the morning.”
Following a bath and breakfast, Jim lay down for some sleep. Jim
Casey was asleep the minute he lay down. He slept an hour, woke, and
opened Ayalla’s slim volume and quickly read the story of Magellan’s visit
to Cebu. It was a strange tale of how Magellan had converted the queen of
the local ruler to Christianity. He gave her a small statue of the Christ
child. A few days later he lost his life in a fight with the natives on Mactan
Island. Antonio Piggafetta, adventurer and scribe, who eventually returned
to Spain on the only surviving ship Vittoria, had chronicled all this in a
famous account.
Jim became drowsy again, and fell asleep. In the dream which
followed he could see the green mountains of Cebu, their tops covered with
cloud, rising out of jungle covered lowlands. The water surrounding the
ship was an intense blue. Gentle breezes propelled the ships of his small
fleet closer and closer until, through the shimmering heat, small groups of
waving and gesticulating people appeared at the water’s edge.

When he stepped ashore in this exotic scene the smell of flowers was
mixed with strange scents and the mouth-watering smell of roasting pig.
The beach was covered with children, playing in gentle surf, naked and
unashamed. Their mothers were also naked except for woven belts with
bird feathers covering their pelts. The men were playing a game in which
two sides played opposite a line drawn in the sand. They kicked a small
round object back and forth over the line with such skill that it never
touched the ground until a point was made by a miss when it fell on the
ground. A village appeared. Its huts were on stilts their sides covered with
panels woven of long slender leaves. The roofs were thatched and hung
down over poles driven in the ground. Pigs’ rooted around under the huts
and brightly colored birds, their legs tethered with strings grubbed around
in the dust.
Then the phone rang, and Jim Casey sat up in bed to answer it. “Mr.
Casey, This is Ayalla. I am sorry to disturb you but I’ve some free time now
and I thought you might like to see the statute of the Christ child that
Magellan gave to the Queen of Cebu. We can drive to the cathedral and take
a look if you are interested”
As they drove away from the hotel Jim told Ayalla how fascinated he
was with the story of Magellan’s experiences in Cebu. A minutes later they
were standing in front of what Ayalla described as a church dedicated to
the Santo Nino the patron saint of Cebu, the Basilica Minore del Santo

Nino, built by the Spaniards in 1565. “This church is home to the first
Christian image venerated in the Philippines, it is small wooden statue of
the Christ Child given to the wife of Humbom a local chieftain, by Magellan
himself,” Ayalla explained. Entering the building they stood to one side in
the main hall where a mass was in progress. The small family groups in
attendance were gathered to celebrate the birth of a child, or to pray for
sick family members. The Christ child was housed in a glass case in a room
at one side of the nave. The statue depicted a sturdy child with straight legs
dressed in a red robe whose folds were encrusted with gold and silver. A
crown of gold sat squarely on a head of golden curls.
“It’s a bit of a surprise, isn’t it, Jim said, “It’s much smaller than I
expected. It can’t be much over a foot high.”
“It probably came around the horn in it’s own box on a pretty small
ship. I don’t think Magellan had room for anything much bigger. The
amazing thing is that it was given to some native queen, if you can call her
that, in 1521, and here it is, still preserved. And, if you think about it, my
Spanish ancestors managed to make the Philippines the only Christian
nation in Asia. How did you Americans ever wind up here,” Ayalla asked
rhetorically.
“Spanish American war, Jim, Teddy Roosevelt and the rough riders,
1898. It was a war about Cuba but we got the Philippines almost by
accident,” Jim said, “It was a big victory for Admiral Dewey when his
Asiatic Fleet blew the Spanish fleet out of the water in Manila Bay. Made

him a big hero back home.”
“Yes, the United States has been running the Philippines as a colony
since 1898. That’s nearly 40 years,” Ayalla said, “Hopefully we’ll be
independent in 6 years.”
Jim knew that Ayalla was impressed that he’d actually read his
monograph, and had gone out to the Cathedral with him to see the Christ
statue. “I’d like to learn more,” Jim said, “Is there a library here that I
could visit?”
“You have to look no further than my humble collection,” Ayalla said,
“I would be happy to lend you anything of interest and it would be a
pleasure to have you meet my family. Will you be in Cebu long?”
“Yes, we are going to be working here for some time,” Jim said, “I
would like to take advantage of your offer. I don’t know many Filipinos and
it would be good to meet some of the real people of the Philippines.”
“Good, that’s settled then,” Ayalla said, “How about coming up to my
place tomorrow afternoon for a swim and then dinner. By the way, Mr.
Casey, did you manage to contact your party?”
“Yes, thank you. He’s picking me up at the hotel in twenty minutes,”
Jim said, “What time would be good tomorrow?”
“Let’s say three thirty,” Ayalla responded, smiling.
Feliciano’s cousin, Soriano arrived in a chauffeur driven Packard
salon car. He was dressed in a white suit, Palm Beach cowboy hat and red
lizard skin boots. “Amigo, I am proud to have you consider my animals for

your remuda he said. I am sure that you will be surprised by the excellence
of the mules and horses we breed and raise on my ranch.”
“Yes, Feliciano said you have the best in all Cebu,” Jim said.
“Senior Casey, they are the best in all of the Philippines,” Soriano
said, “If I do say so myself. In all due modesty, there is not one other lineage
that I personally know about that is the equal of our best breed.” Of course,
they do not come cheaply but, in the end, as you Americans say, you get
what you pay for. They are guaranteed.”
The drive to the ranch was short, and the whole way Soriano
extolled the virtues of Cebu over all the larger islands to the north and
south. According to him it possessed the best climate, the most productive
acreage, the most beautiful and intelligent women. In short it was the next
best thing to heaven itself. By the time the car turned into the drive of the
estate the Jim was feeling fully softened up for the close of a sale. They
drove past a large colonial style house and around a large garage to the
stable area beyond. They could see several large paddocks with horses
gently grazing across the green. “Let’s go into the tack house and I can
show you our stud book and pedigree papers,” Soriano said.
As Jim stepped from the car, he thought, It’s Just like buying a used
car from Honest John in the heart of auto row in San Francisco Before he
left Manila, Feliciano had said he shouldn’t pay more than $500 US dollars
for the lot. He also indicated that it might take several days of bargaining
but that it will be worth it to bargain Soriano down. Soriano led Jim into an

oversized office and tack room. “These are the many trophies we have won
at agricultural fairs and shows,” he said waving his hand at a wall of
ribbons and silver cups. Naturally these are mostly given for our horses but
we have some for other animals as well.”
“This is impressive,” Jim said, “but Senior Soriano, we are looking for
working livestock, we don’t need pedigreed animals.”
“Exactly, Mr. Casey. I have in mind some excellent stock. Not show
winners. Just a little bit down from that level but sound, very sound. They
are available for a very good price Senior. Please, let me show you.”
Soriano’s stable hands were returning from Siesta and soon the big
barn was filled with men washing and grooming their charges. Jim counted
twenty-five stalls to a side in the barn and all were occupied. Soriano
introduced his foreman; Ignatio and they followed him to a paddock where
five mules and four horses were standing next to the fence. As the party
walked up their ears perked up and they stirred restlessly at the intrusion.
“The gray mule is a lead mare, Ignatio explained, “She is experienced and
very sure in the mountains. The others will follow her everywhere when
she is packed and has a bell. Jim could see that the other mules were
gelded and they all looked in good shape. The horses were Arabians large
head and eyes, flowing manes and a proud air. “These are from our family
stables,” Soriano said, pointing to a black gelding and three bay mares,
“They are well broken and good trail horses. My children have out grown
their interest in horses,” he said making a wry face. “Now they are only

interested in cars and airplanes.”
“How many children do you have,” Jim asked.
“Many,” Soriano laughed, “We are a Catholic family. I have six sons,
and four daughters. So, you can see I need to sell you these beauties so I
can afford to buy rice.”
“I cannot even ask the price,” Jim said, “It will be far more than we
can pay, I am sure.”
“Ignatio, do you have the slip,” Soriano said, “Please give it to Mr.
Casey.”
Ignatio plucked a folded sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and
handed it to Jim. Opening it, Jim saw a list with a price after each animal.
The total was five hundred US dollars. Trying not to register surprise, he
said, “It is a very fair price, Senior Soriano, these are perfectly fitted to our
needs.”
“Ignatio, didn’t I tell you that Senior Casey is a gentleman.
Gentleman do not quibble over money, Let us go and have a drink before
you go back to the hotel.”
* * *
The hotel driver opened the door of the black Packard salon car and
Jim and Ayalla got in the back. “My home is on the mountain,” Ayalla said,
we will be driving on a mountain road. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine,” Jim said, “What’s the elevation at your place?”
“I have no idea. My grandfather built the house on top for the view. I

guess it’s about twenty five hundred, maybe three thousand feet. You will
see, and then you can tell me what you think.”
“How do you get water up there.”
“Ah! That is a miracle of God,” Ayalla said, “You will see. It is not a
small miracle, it is necessary for us to live there at all.”
The paved road ended at the edge of town, and a gravel surface
wound its way up the mountainside until finally there was only a narrow
dirt track that continued its way to the top. The final curve issued out onto
a flat mesa that contained a huge single story home, a garden, and a pool.
As they walked away from the car, Ayalla paused at a spot along a low wall
and pointed down. “There is the city of Cebu below us, and to the left you
can look up the coast towards Danao. My family has holdings in Danao, and
sugar plantations on the northern coast.”
“The view is spectacular,” Jim said, “I guess we must be at twenty-
five-hundred feet easily. Look at the valley in back of us and then the
mountains are even higher behind it. I’ll bet that range is easily two
thousand feet higher.
“Come over here. I want to show you our miracle. There! Look here,”
Ayalla said, pointing out to a wooden structure that crossed a small swale
to higher elevation on a hill behind the mesa.
It was not immediately apparent what he was talking about, but
finally Jim figured it out. “It’s an aqueduct! Just like we had at the mine in
Mexico.”

“Yes, you’ve got it,” Ayalla said, “The water comes out of the ground
high up on the mountain. It just wells up out of an underground aquifer in a
considerable stream and flows down the aqueduct my grandfather built to
feed the house, the pool and gardens. There’s a concrete tank on the roof
where we store water.”
“Wonderful system,” Jim said, “It really makes it possible to be
almost totally independent.”
“Yes, we put in a Pelton wheel a couple of years ago and we can
generate enough electricity to power our lights from the stream coming
down the aqueduct,” Ayalla said.
The swimming pool curved around one side of the house and ran
along a ledge in front of the terrace that extended out from a low
overhanging roofline. Ayalla led them into the pool house and the two men
changed into swimming suits and lowered themselves into the cool water.
“Swim around and take a look at the view from the edge of the pool,”
Ayalla said, leading the way. Around the corner the water became
shallower and it was possible to sit in the water and look over the edge to
the scene below. The view over the coast to the south of Cebu City stretched
away over the sea to islands in the distance.
After their swim Ayalla called for drinks on the terrace. As they sat
in the shade of the vine-covered latticework Ayalla said, “I must not forget
to show you my library. Let’s do that after dinner.”
“I am looking for a good place to set up a base camp before I take off

into the mountains,” Jim said, “I’d prefer to be out of Cebu City but be able
to come in when we need supplies. Do you have any idea where we should
look?”
“What exactly will you be doing,” Ayalla asked.
“We’re doing a mineralogical survey for the government,” Jim said,
“My son Robert will be coming down here soon and when we get set up we’ll
begin the survey.”
“Oh, that makes a suggestion easy. Danao City is the perfect place.
The mountains there are not so steep and there is an old trail that takes
you along the main mountain valleys all the way down the center of the
island. Let me get a map, and I’ll show you.”
Ayalla returned with a map that he unfolded on the table. “This is
Danao here,” he said, pointing to a spot further up the coast. “It’s by far the
best place because there is a train that runs up the coast to the city. We call
it the sugar train. It has one or two cars for passengers and the rest are for
carrying freight and sugar cane. You can be there in an hour and a half at
most if the track is clear. We often have animals and people on the tracks
but it usually doesn’t take long to clear.”
“That’s good,” Jim said, “What about a place to stay?”
“That is a good question, we ourselves have the intention of opening
a hotel but as yet we haven’t done anything. There is a beach resort there
called Suisse Hotel. A Swiss man runs it. It is clean and the kitchen is well
run in the Swiss style. We often stop there for lunch ourselves on the way

north. You might like it.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Jim said, “What about stabling for our
horses?”
“That should be no problem, your man Soriano has a place there, and
I know of several other stables in the area. If you have any trouble finding a
place I can have my man help you find something.”
* * *
The train to Danao City consisted of two passenger cars and four
tottering freight cars. The locomotive’s riveted steam boiler leaked steam
at every joint as it pulled into the Cebu station. The narrow gauge track’s
ties looked as if they would crumble in the dust they were already covered
with. The hotel driver helped Casey aboard, as he joined the general crush
of locals heading out into the countryside. The train’s locomotive heaved
forward as the engineer gave two blasts on the steam whistle, and they
were off on a winding course up the coast of the island. The procession
moved at a leisurely pace and the train stopped several times while the
track was being cleared of livestock and people. Once clear of the city Casey
could look out the right side of the train to see the beaches and small nipa
huts that rimmed the shoreline.
Soriano had told Jim that he could have a man leave the following
day and depending on how early he got away could be in Danao as early a
day the after that. It felt good to be getting out in the countryside again. He
had missed the mountains of Mexico, and looked forward to being away

from masses of people. I don’t like city life any more than I did as a little
kid, he thought as the train moved along.
* * *
Walter Krauer was a Swiss in the way that only a man from Bern
could be. His business, a motorcar dealership had prospered under his
management, and finally his plan to leave his wife and get to a warmer
climate, had been made possible by the sale of his business. He traveled to
Hong Kong on a German ship, and like many before him, to Manila on the
White Steamship line. His stay in Manila had convinced him that the
Philippines was the place where he could find a permanent home. His
sexual appetite had been constrained so long in his miserable marriage,
that he found instant delight in the delicate bodies of the Filipino ladies of
the night. For the first month he had at least one encounter with a different
woman every night and sometimes, he managed to arrange multiple
couplings. “Here in this place my soul is growing,” he told the manager of a
Swiss restaurant he found near the entertainment district. He dined there
on Schnitzel every evening and soon was bringing his girlfriends into the
restaurant for late night strudel.
By the end of his second month in the islands, Walter Krauer was in
love with a girl twenty-five years his junior. Marefe was a slender pretty
girl from Cebu who had come to Manila to bear her child away from the
barrio where the baby’s married father lived. When the baby was born the
Catholic nuns in the home where Marefe had been confined talked her into

giving the baby up for adoption.
Back on the streets, she found a waitress job at Bob Jackson’s Dixie
Cafe, a popular after hour’s spot with the enlisted military. The kitchen was
open twenty-four hours and Bob Jackson, an ex navy man with a flair for
southern cooking, was famous for his ribs and chicken. Walter called Bob
Jackson, “the kefir” or “nigger” in front of his face. Whereupon Bob would
flash his famous grin and call Walter a “Kraut.” Marefe, as the new girl,
worked the midnight to eight AM shift. Once smitten, Walter sat at the
counter after finishing his sexual escapades every night, until Marefe was
ready to go home. Marefe was paying twenty-five cents a night to sleep on
the floor of a nearby flop house and Walter soon had her talked into staying
with him in his lodgings. Then Walter bought a new Ford Model A sedan.
His intention was to tour Luzon and then ship his car to other islands, and
tour everywhere he could figure on driving. On Marefe’s day off, Walter
loaded the car with tools, food and extra gas cans and drove out into the
countryside bouncing over dirt roads, poking into remote villages, and
exhausting Marefe who got travel sick at the drop of a hat. Marefe was
homesick. She missed Cebu, her grandmother, and her friends. Finally she
prevailed upon Walter, and he shipped the car to Cebu for a tour of that
place.
Walter Krauer instantly liked Cebu; the prices of everything were
much lower than Manila. He toured the whole island in two weeks, madly
bouncing over terrible roads, and in a fit of enthusiasm told Marefe, “This

place is good. I build a house here.”
Weeks of searching for land finally found him looking at beachfront
property north of Cebu City where he decided to buy acreage at
Campostella, a village just south of Danao City. Two month later he and
Marefe were moving into the first of several buildings he intended to put
up. His plan was to put Marefe in charge of the front desk of a beach resort.
The lodgings for guests would be in small cottages painted like buildings in
a Swiss Mountain village, scattered around a swimming pool. His builders
had no idea what Swiss Cottages might look like, and in the end they looked
more Filipino than Swiss. The walls were painted with birds and jungle
scenes and Walter was grudgingly satisfied because Marefe liked them.
The location of the Suisse Hotel couldn’t have been better. The train
stop at Campostella was a short walk from the front gate and it became a
weekend favorite of middle class families from Cebu City. Walter worked
hard to teach the young people he hired to keep a clean kitchen and cook
Swiss dishes. Fried fish and rice occupied a prominent place on the menu,
and Walter copied Bob Jackson’s pork ribs, offering both mild and hot
barbecue sauces. Marefe liked fruit and Walter concocted a fruit salad
made with mango, papaya and canned fruit cocktail with red maraschino
cherries to please her. When the Suisse Hotel’s menu had been completed
and the kitchen was running more or less smoothly, Walter turned his
attention to improvements to the grounds. He planted palm trees and
bougainvillea, groomed the sand on the beach, set up maintenance

schedules, and organizing a growing bevy of employees.
A year and a half later, when Jim Casey arrived at the front desk,
the Suisse Hotel was a fully functioning business. During his check in
Marefe had trouble concentrating on the paperwork because she was so
busy examining the newcomer’s handsome face. She gave him a cottage
near the beach and quoted a very low rate for a month long stay. Walter
later complained at her in one of their frequent fights that she was going to
just give the business away to any handsome man who showed up. She
cried, and after angrily stomping out of the office, Walter came back and
apologized.
The full extent of his fatigue hit the Casey the minute he arrived at
the Suisse Hotel. He slept continuously for nearly 48 hours, getting up to go
to the bathroom and wolfing down room service trays when he was hungry.
He woke up early on the day of his full recovery and headed out for a walk
down the beach before the dining room opened. The sand felt cool and
smooth under his bare feet and he’d walked for nearly an hour in the
direction of Liloan, a village south of Campostella, before he stopped to turn
over a board that had washed up on the shore. It turned out to be part of a
hatch cover from some passing ship. He decided to drag it up on the beach
and leave it for the locals to pick up. As he dragged it over the sand to
higher ground, a young woman walked out from a group of trees and stood
looking at him. He waived to her and she waived back. He walked over to
her and introduced himself. “Good morning, my name is Jim.”

“Good morning, I’m called Rita,” She responded, “I live over there
she said pointing in the direction of the trees. Where did you come from?”
“Rita, that’s a nice name,” Jim said, “I’m staying at the Hotel up that
way.”
“Oh, I know the place, my brother worked there building it. It belongs
to a Swiss man, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I think he must be Swiss. They have Swiss food on the menu.
Does your brother still work there?”
“Only sometimes now,” Rita said, “That owner is very cheap. He pays
only twenty Pisos a day for hard work so my brother finds work in other
places to make more money.”
“Yes, that sounds pretty cheap to me,” Jim said, “What do you do.”
“I’m looking for a job,” Rita said, “I’m trained in business and law but
it’s really hard for a woman to get a job. What are you doing in Cebu?”
“I’m working for the government, looking for mineral deposits,” Jim
said, “I’ll be staying in Campostella for some time. Why don’t you stop by
sometime? We can have lunch or a dinner. Just ask for Jim Casey.”
“I’d like that. I’ll remember to stop by. I’ve got to go home now. Bye.”
Jim watched her retreating figure with considerable curiosity. Rita’s
manner was so straightforward and directs that he had an impression that
he was not dealing with a typical countrywoman. He wondered if she would
take him up on his offer of a meal and he hoped that she would. By the time
he got back to the Suisse Hotel Walter Krauer was sitting in the dining

room reading a newspaper.
Walter Krauer invited Jim to sit down. He inquired after his comfort
and satisfaction with the service. Then he said, “A man called to say that
your horses have arrived somebody from Soriano’s he said that you could
go by there any time.”
After discovering that Jim planned a long-term stay Walter offered
to show him around the area in his Model A Ford. “It’s is a cheap but good
American automobile. Mr. Ford has the Volk in mind. You will see. You will
see.”

Chapter 16
Robert Casey & Rose Ryan
In Manila, Robert dressed with care, and in a new suit and fresh
shirt, he headed for the Hospital in a taxi. Asking the taxi driver to wait, he
entered the lobby and rang Rose Ryan’s room on the telephone.
“Robert, you’re on time,” Rose said, “I didn’t expect that, but I am
ready. I’ll just pop on some lipstick and I’ll be out.”
“Take your time, I may actually be a little bit early,” Robert said.
She laughed and said, “Well, you are very early by Manila time.”
Rose Ryan crossed the hospital atrium. She was dressed in a simple
white linen dress and carried a light jacket over her arm. The details were
stunning. Her auburn hair hung loosely around her shoulders framing a
classic open Irish face. Her obvious pleasure at seeing him was signaled by
a dazzling smile. “Well, Mr. Casey, how is my favorite civilian tonight,” she
said with an outstretched hand, “I hope I haven’t taken you away from
some more important business.”
“Not at all, Miss Ryan, in my official capacity as your favorite civilian
I am honored to be of service and if you are half as hungry as I am, I would
be pleased to take you to dinner.”
“Oh, kind sir, that’s exactly what I had in mind. Where are we
going?”
“A club. It’s called Minney’s. The food is good and there’s a floorshow.
My friend introduced me to a Russian woman who dances in the show. How

does that sound?”
“That sounds super. I am so tired of the Army-Navy club. It’s okay
once or twice but it gets old. So, what have you been doing this week.”
“Let’s see yesterday, my dad left for Cebu,” Robert said, “We plan on
prospecting in the mountains down there. We need some mules and horses
to pack into the interior and we were introduced to a guy down there who
raises them for sale, when we went to the livestock auction here in Manila
on Monday.”
“Really, so will you be going to Cebu,” Rose said, as he opened the
taxi door for her.
“Pretty quick. Right now I’m waiting for a ship from Hong Kong
that’s bringing some equipment, tools and supplies. We’ll have an office
here in Manila at our partner’s place.”
“Does that mean I’ll have no chance of seeing you in the future?”
“Of course not,” Robert said, “Chances are you are going to get tired
of having me around more than you want.”
Rose took his hand and held it tightly, “You and I both know that
isn’t true.”
As the taxi threaded its way through the narrow streets Rose and
Robert were scarcely conscious of anything except each other. The line of
her thigh was hard against his and the attraction between them was
uppermost in both their minds. They arrived at Minney’s and went in.
Robert had reserved a table front row and center and while they were

being seated Lt. James came up to speak to them, “Hi, folks, surprised
seeing you here.”
“Hey, lieutenant, how are you? You know Rose Ryan don’t you.”
“Yes, How are you Lieutenant Ryan? How are the nurses?”
“Fine, Mr. Lt. James, we’re all fine.”
“How about having a drink with us,” Robert said.
“No thanks. I’m waiting for Velodia to come in. Maybe I can stop by
later and join you for the show if you don’t mind. Velodia’s is dancing
tonight.”
“Great, we’ll see you later, then”
As Lt. James sauntered away, Rose said, “You know I’m not sure I
like him. He makes me feel uneasy, and I don’t know why.”
“Probably just not your type”
“Not probably, definitely.”
“He seems okay to me,” Robert said, “But then I’m not a woman, and
he’s not my type definitely.”
Rose laughed. “He’s just skiing through life from one woman to the
next. He’s just not a serious person and he’s definitely stuck on how
wonderful he is.”
“That’s a cavalryman for you.”
“Enough of him. Let’s look at the menu.”
“This place specializes in seafood,” Robert said, “I had tiger prawns
in some kind of Filipino coconut sauce the last time I ate here.”

“Sounds good,” said Rose, “Oh, here’s lobster in that coconut sauce.
How does that sound?”
“Great, I’ll have the same thing,” Robert responded, “Shall we have a
bottle of wine white or red?”
“I know it’s unconventional but I’d prefer red,” Rose said, “I’m from
San Francisco.”
“Red it is. Let’s see they’ve got Chianti, or an Italian red.”
“I’d say let’s go all the way and have Dago Red,” Rose responded, “It’s
the kind I drank as a kid. My father used to buy it in North beach in gallon
jugs. He liked his wine, my father.”
“What does your father do,” Robert asked.
“He’s dead,” Rose said, “He was killed in a labor dispute on the docks
in San Francisco. He was an organizer for the Longshoreman’s union. The
employers were out to get him.”
“I had no idea,” Robert said, “I’m sorry. So, he was murdered.”
“What happened to my father has happened to a lot of good union
men over the years he was just hit on the head by the police and he didn’t
get up. It’s a never-ending battle with the union the owners against the
workers. It’s really a matter of death to labor.”
“I’ve seen the same thing in Mexico with the peasants,” Robert said,
“The workers on the Haciendas, and in the mines are little better than
slaves. They live on pitifully small pay and in terrible conditions. It has
always bothered me.”

Rose reached across the table and took his hand, “Don’t get upset,
and let’s just enjoy our meal. We can talk about all that later. There will be
plenty of time.”
Having finished dinner, Robert and Rose decided to not stay for the
floor show, and left the club for a stroll along the streets of Manila. They
were each silent, lost in thought, as they walked along in the direction of
his hotel. The air was cooler now that the sun was down and it had a
languid tropical quality. Rose put her arm around Robert’s waist as they
strolled along. “That was a really nice dinner Robert, Rose said, “I haven’t
had much time to see what the world looks like outside the confines of the
military here in Manila. Most of my friends seem satisfied to go to the same
parties and dances in the same places week after week. Frankly I’ve been
so bored at times that I just wanted to scream and run away.”
“That’s no good Rose,” Robert said, “I’ll just have to see that you and
I get around and see the Philippines. After all, we didn’t start out wanting
to see the world and then be happy being stuck in the same old rut when
we got here.”
“No, I know that’s really what’s been bothering me. Here I am in a
whole new world, and I can’t imagine not taking advantage of everything
that’s here.
They stopped at a bench along the seafront and sat down. Robert
leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. She turned and kissed him
hard on the lips. Her passion surprised him and as they embraced in one

long and lingering kiss he felt his temple pounding. “I’ve got to walk,” he
said, “This is way too exciting.”
“Where is your hotel,” Rose asked, “Let’s go to your room.”
The night clerk was dozing when they entered the Nishikawa Hotel.
They climbed the stairs to Robert’s floor and stood clinging to each other as
he searched his pocket for the key. Once they were inside the room, she
walked to the window and raised the shade. The room filled with the glow
of the city outside. Robert sat down on a chair by the window and pulled
her to his lap. “You smell so good,” he said, “I am head over heels about you,
and I barely know who Rose Ryan is.”
She unbuttoned the top of her dress and pulled his head to her
breast. “Oh, I think you know who Rose is,” she said, “She is a woman who
wants to make love to a lovely man named Robert.”

Chapter 17
Golden Dragon in Manila
After three days at sea the passengers and crew of Golden Dragon
were relieved to see the lights of the city as they anchored off in Manila
Bay well after midnight. Everyone on board slept well the rest of the night
since the motion of the ship was easy in the calm sea. The cook fired up the
galley stove early and soon the smell of coffee permeated the air on deck
where Li Song had moved to sleep in the fresh air. As he rubbed his eyes
and stretched himself awake he saw Captain Kang standing at the rail
outside the wheelhouse looking over the scene on shore. He was checking
to see if there was a sign of anyone from the Company on shore. Then a
water taxi put out from the public pier and headed towards the ship. Harry
Kang reached inside and took up a pair of binoculars to see who might be
coming. He instantly saw Wong Chee, the Manila office manager, who’s big
smile could be seen clearly through the glass standing up, waving from the
fast approaching launch. Captain Kang called down to the deck “Look alive
there, Li Song. Stow your bedding, and get ready to meet our man in
Manila. He’ll be aboard shortly.” Wong Chee was one of Harry Kang’s
favorite people. Constitutionally cheerful, his expression filled face
radiated his happy spirit everywhere he went. As he bounded over the rail
he said, “Beautiful ship, just beautiful. And, here is the Captain Harry Kang
I’ve missed you. Why stay away so long. This time you stay long time, okay,
okay. This must be Li Song,” he said bounding over to Li Song who was

standing sleepily by the open main hatch. He shook his hand and pounded
them on the back, “Your Uncle Paul send best to you. I am glad to be your
acquaintance.”
Captain Kang invited Wong Chee to the galley for breakfast. “We’ve
got good grub, Wong Chee, how about some pork and rice?” The crew was
just finishing morning chow when Wong Chee entered and sat down at the
long table. They all greeted the guest, and then quietly left for the day
ashore having been given a day off after the journey from Hong Kong.
“What’s new Wong,” Harry Kang asked. Wong’s eyebrows went up
and his smile widened. “ Oh, very much Harry. Very much is new. Yes, we
are negotiating to buy a big property for our Company here in Manila. I
want you to see it. Very big!” It’s called the Garden Palace Hotel Very nice.
Will have it soon I think. Mr. Li offered good money and the family Salongo,
that is selling it very much wants to sell, so I think we are in business.”
“This is news,” Kang said, “Where is it located?”
“Oh, very close. Just along there,” Wong Chee said, waving in the
general direction of town. “We can walk there in twenty minutes.”
After a quick breakfast the two men went on deck for a cigar. Elsie
Cole had not put in an appearance yet, and it seemed like a good time to
just relax and enjoy a Manila-made cigar. “What time is your crew coming
to unload our cargo, Wong,” Harry asked.
“Luzon Stevedore Company they should be here any time,” Wong
said, “People say they will be at your place at seven but they are always

late. You know, it’s Philippine time. So, we just wait. I am sorry but it’s our
bad custom.”
“Sure Wong,” Harry responded, “I let my crew go ashore today
because they haven’t had any time off for a month and a half.”
“Nobody worry, No worry, okay,” Wong said, “We got plenty boys to
unload.”
Li Song pointed to a red and white steam tug pushing a barge
towards Golden Dragon, “Look Captain, I think that might be our unloading
crew.”
It was all over in an hour. A swarm of Filipino’s under the direction
of a heavy set jovial foreman unloaded Golden Dragon so quickly it took
some fast work by Li Song to keep up with checking off each item on the
ship’s manifest as the cargo went to the barge.
Elsie Cole came out on deck and stood marveling at the activity.
“Lordy Captain Kang, I haven’t seen anything like this since I was a kid on
the farm at harvest time. Where did all these people come from?”
“They’re from the stevedore company,” Kang said, “They get paid by
the load and their boss likes to get it over quickly, and go on to another job.
They maximize profit that way. Have you had breakfast yet?”
“No, is there any coffee left.”
“You should know by now that a ship always has coffee on the stove,”
Kang said, “Let’s go to the galley where we can talk.”
Handing Elsie a cup of coffee, Harry said, “I’ve got to go over to the

naval station today. I’ll get in touch with Ed and find out where you two will
be staying. I know you probably want to go ashore. It doesn’t make much
sense to move your bags twice I can have them sent around later when you
find out where you’re going to stay. If you want us to meet you later, we can
all meet at the Manila Hotel.”
She stretched, arching her back, and smiled radiantly. “You dear
man, how did you read my mind? I look a fright, and I just want to go some
place and get my hair done, and get cleaned up before I meet Ed.”
Golden Dragon, its cargo unloaded, anchored further out in Manila
bay. Harry dressed in an immaculate white linen suit and was packing a
small overnight bag when Skip Moran entered his cabin.
“Skip, I’m going ashore for a few days. Keep an eye on things and
listen to the local weather reports. We don’t want to get caught in a blow in
this exposed position. If anything comes up you can patch through the
marine operator and reach me at this number. If you need to run for cover,
head up to Subic Bay. I can get a ride to meet you there if it comes to that.”
“Right’o Cap,” Skip said, “Where are you headed?”
“It’s time for me to find out what’s going on in the world and I think a
trip to see Ed Cole might be revealing. Jim Hart is a pretty crafty old
codger for an Admiral. I want to talk to him if I can get around those jerks
on his staff. I might find someone I know over at Cavite who can help me
get through. Send in Otani-san, will you. I’ll see you at the end of the week.”
“Otani-san, Sir.”

“Good morning Otani-san,” Harry responded, “What’s new? How was
your trip to the Consulate?”
“Good, Captain. I turned up some pretty interesting stuff. I looked
through the directory of Army Officers in the Library. It took all of ten
minutes to find out that Homma is a very experienced officer. Speaks
English, served with the British in the First World War, commanded the
2nd Division in Korea, and his last command was listed as being in the
China Central Army. I wonder what he’s doing in Manila.
“I’d say he was on a recon trip for the Japanese General Staff,” Kang
responded. “That may mean they are considering whether to attack the
Philippines at some point.”
“That must be it,” Otani-san said, “I wonder where he is staying.”
“Should be easy to find out,” Kang said, “I’m going to be ashore for a
few days. I’ll make some inquiries. How are you doing otherwise?”
“Just worried, Captain. If war breaks out between the United States
and Japan, I am afraid they’ll round up all the Japanese in Hawaii, and
that would put my folks in a jam. They’ve never been able to get American
citizenship and as aliens I guess they stand a good chance of being locked
up. They’re way too old to make it in a prison camp.”
“What about your brother?”
“God only knows,” Otani-san said, “My brother was sent back to
Japan to go to school when he was nine years old and he never came back
to Hawaii even to visit. Now, when he’s got a job in the Foreign Ministry,

he’s just another Japanese bureaucrat in their eyes. He hates the idea of a
war with the United States but there’s nothing he can do about it.”
“Yeah, that’s a tough position to be in. Listen, it’s getting late. I’ve got
to get out of here. There’s a note on my desk over there, can you code it up
and send it to Paul Li for me. I’ll see you in a couple of days.

Chapter 18
Admiral Hart & Captain Kang
From the water taxi on the way to shore, Harry could see the
growing presence of the US Navy in the anchorage off Cavite to the south.
Two cruisers and some older destroyers swung on the hook,’ outside the
Sub tender Canopus and it’s small flock of Submarines. The sight made him
nostalgic for his days at Annapolis. Considering he might be in prison right
now he was lucky, but he often wondered what might have happened had
things been different. As things stood, he had his own ship a vessel of his
own making, a loyal and well-trained crew and interesting work. What
more could a man want? Harry Kang hated that question. Several years
before, when he first met Madame Chen he was very attracted to her. Most
of the time he was content to admire her from afar but then there were
times when he craved her wanted her so badly he ached at the core. He had
never had the courage to reach out for the woman. Now that he was
involved with Veronique, and had shifted his feeling he felt much better. He
reflected on his change of sentiment and decided it was a good thing. Never
mind, he was on a mission and there was no time to be wasted. Harry Kang
stepped ashore, walked to the Manila Hotel, and took a taxi directly to the
Cavite naval station.
Ed Cole was in the base engineering department when Harry Kang’s
call came. He had Harry piped aboard by giving instructions to the sentry
on duty to send Captain Kang to him by the base bus. He came out of the

machine shop wiping his hands on an oily rag. “Hey, Harry. I’m surprised
to see you. Where’s Elsie?”
“We got in late last night Ed. Elsie slept late and is going into town to
get her hair done and make herself presentable. She wants us to meet her
at the Manila Hotel later. How was your trip home in that old leaker of
yours?”
“Good, Good trip considering. I was just arguing with a guy named
Rickover about getting our main propulsion straightened out. We’ve got
terrible clutch problems. Old S-38 is long overdue for a refit. What brings
you to the back lot.”
Harry grinned and said, “Just trying to get a cup of coffee actually I
wanted to find you to let you know about Elsie, and I want to see Admiral
Hart.”
“Have an appointment, do you,” Ed Cole said, “The old man is pretty
busy these days.”
“No, that’s the problem. Any ideas about how I might be able to get in
for a short talk.”
“I’d call over there and get someone tell him you just got in from
Shanghai. I imagine he’s pretty worried about what’s going on up there,
and that might just get you in. Do you want me to call Tim Turner? He’s
acting adjutant for a month. Maybe he can get you in.
“That would be great, Ed,”
“Let’s go to the mess. Their java’s not that good, but it’s just around

the corner. I can call Lt. Turner from there.”
Ed Cole and Harry Kang were finishing their second cup of coffee
when an orderly approached their table. “Captain Cole, there is a call for
Captain Kang.”
“I’m Kang,” Harry said, getting up.
“Captain Kang, this is Tim Turner, Admiral Hart can see you
whenever you can get here. Just take a launch, and ask the boatswain to
take you to the Flagship.”
After arranging to meet Cole later on S-38, Captain Kang made for
the dock, requested a ride, and headed out towards a cruiser lying at
anchor off the end of a line of smaller ships. The Cruiser Houston, flagship
of the Asiatic Fleet, had been painted white. It was now being swarmed
over by Filipino employees of the Navy who were re-painting it battleship
gray. Harry ran up the gangplank saluted the sentry and was piped aboard
the ship.
Harry Kang was ushered into a dayroom on the stern of the cruiser.
The officer of the day introduced himself, “Hello, Captain Kang, I’m Tim
Turner. Admiral Hart will be with you shortly. Would you like some tea or
coffee?”
“Coffee,” Kang said, “thanks for getting me in Lieutenant.”
Harry sat in a rattan deck chair reviewing the situation while he
waited. The man he wanted to talk to, Admiral James C. Hart was an officer
of the old school. He was considered to be a martinet by many people under

his command, but Harry Kang knew him to be a dedicated, very smart,
broad-gauge officer. He’d been appointed commander of the Asiatic Fleet in
the middle of the year, and had been hell bent on putting some discipline
back into an organization that he thought had badly deteriorated over the
proceeding years.
“Captain Kang, how are you,” Hart said as he entered the room.
Kang rose quickly to his feet and saluted. “I’m fine, Admiral Hart,
and you sir?”
Hart grinned, “Well, at the moment I’m in a war of my own with all
the navy wives in the Philippines. I just issued an order sending
dependants stateside. Now I hear that some of them claim not to be in the
navy, and have no intention to be ordered around by me. I just signed
another order that puts all their husbands on permanent alert no free time
if their ladies don’t get on that boat home. It’ll be interesting to see what
happens. I’m taking bets.”
Kang laughed, “No way I’d put money on you losing that one. I see
you’ve also putting the flagship into fighting trim. I like the new paint job.”
“Yes, well I stole this ship from Hub Kimmel at Pearl. He lost it in a
card game. I had the aces up my sleeve. I’m trying to make it so ugly he
won’t ever want it back in the Pacific Fleet.”
“Well, I am happy to see that you’re just as persuasive as you’ve
always been, Admiral. I remember when you shanghaied me.”
“Why Captain Kang, whatever are you saying. All I did was pull your

mitt up a bit higher than your elbow behind your back with one hand, and
grab you by the balls with the other,” Hart said, “I didn’t let them keep you
in chains like they wanted to. You should be grateful.”
“I am grateful, Admiral, it’s been an interesting career, in-but-out, of
the navy. If you hadn’t suggested a career in naval intelligence I might still
be in the brig.”
“Exactly. Now Harry, tell me what’s going on in China.”
Harry Kang reached in his bag and pulled out an envelope, “It’s all in
here, Admiral, this is a copy of my report” he said, handing it to Hart.
“So, tell me about it Harry, I’ll read your report later.”
“The Japanese are a formidable opponent, Admiral. By this I mean
they’ve got it all carrier based naval air, accurate bombardment, battle
hardened troops and a dedicated officer corps. In Shanghai, the Chinese
put up razor wire all along the riverbank. The Japanese send sappers in
with light charges and wire cutters. Where they can’t get through they just
lie down on the wire and let the infantry, following behind, walk over them.
They are putting light tanks in with their infantry and that makes it pretty
tough on opposing troops who haven’t got anti-tank weapons, or artillery,
in place. They’ve definitely taken a page from the Germans.”
“What are their ultimate intentions,” Hart asked.
“Short range I’d say they plan to unify that part of China they can
control without chasing the Chinese all the way to Tibet. I see nothing to
stop them from taking Indo-China. I guess you know they’ve landed there

in the north. Our guy in the Japanese Consulate in Shanghai said they have
five or more divisions ready to put ashore anywhere they select. Our best
guess is that there are fifteen to eighteen more divisions they can scrape
up from Korea or, reserves in Japan. I think Tokyo is mobilizing the whole
country to fight a major war. Long Range They’ve got a problem. It’s Oil.
Without supplies from us on the pacific coast they are basically dead in the
water. Just a guess they might have three to six months reserve but after
that.”
Admiral Hart cut in. “That means the Dutch East Indies.”
“Exactly, if they go there, as I see it, they have to take the
Philippines. They can’t take a chance we will intercept their ships on their
way to Japan, Formosa, or the China coast, from here.”
“God, I hope they don’t know how weak we really are down here.
That damn fool MacArthur sits there in his office and dreams of putting a
Filipino army of half a million men in the field, and his staff tear their hair
out to get an extra rifle or two. It’s pathetic.”
“Bad news on that front, Admiral, Lt. General Homma is on a trip
down here looking things over. I don’t have any direct confirmation of this
but I’d say the Japanese General Staff sent him down here to look over the
ground, and plan an invasion route in case they decide to take the
Philippines.”
“Homma, well that is interesting. I know the man. Met him years ago
in London at the Naval Armaments Convention. He is a very sophisticated

guy. Well, Harry I don’t like that news. But I am not surprised. It’s the
logical thing to do. So, tell me more about their navy tactics.”
“It’s a story of aircraft carriers. Everything they do depends on
having air superiority. Land based planes can’t protect ships. So, they’ve
got a new carrier based fighter plane. It’s a Mitsubishi. It’s fast and highly
maneuverable. They shot the Chinese air force out of the sky in a matter of
hours over Shanghai. Before they put the Japanese marines on shore, they
shot the hell out of the landing zone and then laid down carpets of bombs
with a plane that can drop clusters of conventional bombs, dive bomb or
drop torpedoes. I’ve thought a lot about this Sir, and with all due respect
for naval doctrine, I don’t think a fleet without air cover is going to survive
strong air attacks from a determined enemy.”
“Naval doctrine! It’s all Balderdash,” Hart said, leaping to his feet,
“Kang, I’ve been having private talks with the Dutch and the Brits. They
just don’t get the message. Look, I am an old man but even I see the
problem. The Brits are sending the Battleships Repulse and the Prince of
Wales out to Singapore. When I asked them if they were sending any
carriers for air support they looked at me like I was crazy. In their simple
minds they can’t abandon the idea that a battleship is some kind of
impregnable island. The Dutch are slightly more cognizant of the problem.
They say they can protect their ships with land-based planes. With that
philosophy they’ll be creeping along their own coastline with absolutely no
room to maneuver. What’s even nuttier is that neither command

recognizes the threat from the enemy submarines. Hell, in the last war the
Krauts drove us crazy with their U-boats. I know. I ran our own sub
squadron out of Ireland. It’s a whole New World out there on the water. If
you’re caught up in some wrong notion or another, you’re going to find
yourself at the bottom it’s a sad business.”
“Sir, what about the politics,” Kang asked, “I read that Washington
keeps threatening the Japanese. Is this true?”
“Harry, here’s what I think I think the Japs are exactly the wrong
people to threaten unless you’ve got a bigger stick than they do. Right now
we haven’t got jack shit out here. I look at our sub fleet and I see aging
boats that should have been scrapped ten years ago. Look at this ship.
There isn’t enough anti-aircraft defense aboard to shoot down a PBY for
Christ’s sake. When the shit hits the fan here I’m not depending on the
Army air force to protect my ships. I’m going to put my tail between my
legs and hightail it over to the Dutch East Indies, then go south to Australia
if I have too. At least I won’t be a sitting duck in a shooting gallery.”
Looking at his watch he said, “Are you still poking around in that boat you
built? What’s your next job?
“Golden Dragon? Yes Sir. As for the next thing, well it looks like we’ll
be going back to the China coast. We’ve got some coast watchers ashore to
look after, and we can do it better than the subs can.”
“Time for me to go, “Admiral Hart said, “You’ve done a good job
Captain Kang. Good luck, Son,” and he walked out the door carrying Harry

Kang’s intelligence report.
Ed Cole and Harry Kang took a navy shuttle bus to the Army-Navy
Club in Manila and then walked to the Manila hotel. The beauty shop had
done wonders for Elsie and she looked stunning in a new dress and hair do.
They found her in the lounge talking with another navy wife who was
waiting for her amah to come back from the ladies room where she’d gone
to change her young charge’s diapers.
“Sweetheart! Am I ever glad to be here,” Elsie said, “Harry was so
kind. He even gave up his own bunk for me. Can you imagine that?”
“Now Elsie, don’t make more of it than it was,” Harry responded, “It
was my pleasure.”
“Ed, what’s this about wives being sent back to the States. Kay here
just told me that Admiral Hart has ordered us all home,” Elsie said, “I’ve
only just got here and now I’m supposed to go home. I won’t do it.”
“Let’s talk about that later, honey,” Ed Cole said, “We’ve got to find
rooms for tonight. The married officer’s rooms are all taken since the fleet
started gathering here so we’re on our own for a few days. Do you want to
stay here tonight?”
“Oh, let’s not stay here Ed, it’s way too expensive and I don’t want to
run into any high ranking military. I just want to get away on our own.”
“Have you got any ideas Harry,” Ed Cole asked.
“Well, there’s the Palm Garden just up the street there but it’s loaded
with navy officers and enlisted men. There’s a small hotel not far from

here, called the Nishikawa Hotel. It’s pretty plain but it’s clean and the
government people send guests there. In fact our Company has some of our
people, Americans staying there at the moment. If it sounds okay, I can call
there right now and see about getting you a room.”
“Sounds great. Is that okay with you Elsie?”
“Sure, I know that anything Captain Kang suggests will be fine.
Ed called the navy base at Cavite. “What’s going on?”
“Captain I hate to tell you this but all the service wives in the
Philippines have been ordered to go back to the states.”
“How soon do they have to leave?”
“Immediately sir.”
Ed and Elsie were discussing the situation when Harry came back.
“What’s going on? You two look worried.”
“We’ve got a more serious problem than a hotel room. All the service
wives in the Philippines have been ordered to go home. We’ve got to find a
way for Elsie to leave here for the states,” Ed said.
“Sweetheart, with the baby due so soon I don’t want to take a slow
ship back to the West Coast.”
“Ed why don’t you call Pan American. There may be a Clipper flying
out of here,” Harry said, “It’s certainly the fastest way home from here.”
Ed called the Pan American office. When he came back he said.
“There’s a flight leaving here for California in a few days. I reserved the last
two seats. I’m due for two months leave and if I can get permission from

Admiral Hart I’ll go with Elsie.”
With his leave orders in hand, Ed said, “As usual Harry you are the
man with the great idea.”
“Ed’s right Harry,” Elsie said, “I am lucky to be standing here with
two of the smartest men I know.”
“She’s done it again,” Harry said, “Made us out to be great when both
of are just two crazy ship captains.”
The huge triple tailed Boeing 314 Pan Am Clipper was two days late
leaving Hong Kong. When it finally settled on Manila Bay two short
Japanese diplomats got off the plane. In Manila’s tropical heat they were
both dressed in black hot morning suits. The first man off was Ambassador
Kurusu Saburo. He carried a bulging black brief-case, a black handled cane
with a brown grainy wood stock, and a pair of gray suede gloves. His
secretary, Mr. Shiroji Yuki, was in charge of almost seventy seven pounds
of luggage.
His host the Japanese Consul General was on hand with big black
Cadillac limousine to pick up Kurusu. A second car followed with Mr Shiroji
shepherding their pile of locked leather bags. That evening at a cocktail
party thrown in honor of Ambassador Kurusu he sipped orangeade and
smiled continuously at the American guests and eagerly made continuous
conversation with them. General MacArthur was conspicuously absent.
Only Admiral Hart put in an appearance. Kurusu seem nervous in his
presence and his little Hitler moustache bobbed about as he talked.

Joseph Clark Grew, the American Ambassador in Tokyo, was a tall,
suave, aristocrat. He was well liked by everyone in Japan because he had
impeccable manners and treated everyone with respect. On hearing that
Kurusu was headed to Washington on a secret mission he sent a dispatch
via the China Clipper to Commissioner Sayer, MacArthur, and Hart. The
dispatch was labeled TOP SECRET but contained no suggestions as to how
Kurusu should be treated. When General MacArthur got the message he
turned to General Southerland. “That slimy little Jap is up to no good. He
signed the Jap agreement with Hitler and that is enough to make me
puke.”
Admiral Hart was curious. He attended the cocktail party to get a
look at Kurusu and he was not impressed. He later told Captain Kang that
it was his impression that the Japanese were going to stall as long as they
could to finish their military build up for war.
Commissioner Sayer was totally dismayed. Ambassador Grew had
not included any suggestions for the way Kurusu was to be treated and
Sayer felt left out of the loop. Admiral Hart told Sayer that it was his
impression that President Roosevelt was going to, “Toe the line with the
Japanese.” A day later Kurusu, and his luggage guarded by Mr. Shiroji,
checked in at the Pan American base.
When the Ed and Elsie were finally settled in their seats for the long
trip home the found themselves sitting across from a short Japanese man
with a small moustache.

“Excuse me. My name is Saburo Kurusu. I’m on my way to
Washington D.C. to help Admiral Nomura at the Japanese Embassy.”
“I am Ed Cole. And this is my wife Elsie. We’re going to San
Francisco. My wife is going home to her parents place in the mid-west to
deliver her baby.”
“My wife is an American,” Kurusu said, “Her name was Jay, Alice
Jay, when we met. Her parents were both English, living on Washington
Square in New York when she was born.”
“How interesting,” Elsie said, “We are so excited Mr. Kurusu. This is
our first child.”
“Well, congratulations. Alice and don’t have any children. My life in
the diplomatic service has me running all over the world. We are hoping to
have a child sometime in the future.”
The Pan Am Steward announced breakfast and handed Elsie and Ed
a folded card. It was engraved and contained a breakfast menu. “Service is
in the lounge just in the rear of this cabin. Please take your seats and enjoy
your breakfast.”
Kurusu was asleep when they returned to their seats.
“I thought he looked very tired when we sat down,” Ed said, “I’ve
never heard of him.”
The flight included several short stops for refueling and landed three
days later in Hawaii. The Clipper’s final transpacific flight was in San
Francisco Bay at Alameda just south of the San Francisco Oakland Bay

Bridge. The waters of the bay were calm and the Clipper’s Pilot made a
very smooth landing and taxied to the ramp.
Kurusu sat up and pulled his black leather brief from under his seat.
He nodded to Ed and Elsie, said “Good luck,” and hurried off the plane to a
waiting black Packard Limousine.
The following day Ed accompanied Elsie to the Southern Pacific
streamliner in Oakland, and settled her in a first class sleeping
compartment.
“I sure wish I had time to go with you,” Ed said, “I don’t know how
long it will take me to get back to Manila. I’m going to take a train down to
San Diego and see if the Navy can give me a ride.”
The whistle blew and Ed rushed off the train. He could see Elsie as
the train went out of the station. She was crying and waiving at the
window.
Ed took the train south to Los Angeles and on to the San Diego Naval
Base where he reported in to the personal section where a young
Lieutenant looking at his orders said, “Captain, There are two new
submarines here headed for Hawaii. I imagine if you talk to their skippers
one of them might have room for you to get a berth to Pearl Harbor. How
does that sound?”
“Perfect. How do I get to the place where the subs are tied up?

Chapter 19
Under Cover Intelligence Mission
Golden Dragon Trading Company, at Colonel Kimura’s request,
purchased General Homma’s ticket on the White Steamer to Manila. The
trip was uneventful and when he arrived in Manila, Homma felt rested. He
was picked up at quayside by a car from the Japanese Embassy. The
resident military attache, a young officer named, Shimada, briefed him as
soon as he checked into the intelligence section in the basement of the
Embassy building. Exhibit “A” consisted of an extensive sheaf of maps
marked “Luzon’”. Homma examined them carefully. He noted that large
areas on the map were shaded in red with a notation that the areas were
incompletely surveyed or consisted of jungle that was considered
impassable. Studying the maps intently, he searched for indications of
military presence along the North coast of Luzon. “It doesn’t take a
military genius to see that the coast along here, if undefended, is a perfect
landing place,” he said, pointing to the coast at Lingayen Gulf. “What do you
know about it?”
“I haven’t seen it myself, Sir,” Shimada said, “If you like we can take
a trip up there and survey the coast.”
“How long have you been in charge here,” Homma asked, “haven’t
you had time to survey the situation yourself?”
“No Sir,” Shimada said, “I’ve only been here three weeks, and I just
took over the post.”

“I see, well it can’t be helped,” Homma said, “Let’s go out together.
When can we leave?”
Shimada looked at his watch. “It’s probably too late to go today, but
we can leave at first light in the morning.”
“Good, let’s do that.” What else have you got for me?”
“Our agents have been gathering information about the defenses in
the Manila area, including Corregidor at the entrance to Manila bay, the
airfields, and the navy base at Cavite. Further away there are several bases
including Fort Stotesenberg, Clark Field, and a small airfield at Iba. This
folder contains most of that information.”
“That’s a big pile of stuff,” Homma observed, “Can you summarize
quickly, I can study it in more detail later if need be.”
Major Shimada was obviously well prepared. He started by outlining
the force strength of the US Navy, the line of battle represented by the
ships assembled in the Philippines, and an estimate of the state of
readiness of the Asiatic Fleet. Homma was not impressed by what he heard
but he was impressed with the way Shimada presented it.
“Since the middle of the year, Admiral Hart has been reorganizing
his force structure. He acquired the cruiser Houston, brought the
submarine squadron back from China and he has added several smaller
surface ships from the China squadron. There is one, possibly two,
squadrons of PBY aircraft in his air component but as yet there are no

aircraft carriers in the Asiatic Fleet.”
“What does our navy think of the situation here,” Homma asked.
“I have no knowledge of that,” Shimada said, “The navy operates it’s
own intelligence gathering here. We don’t interact with them at all.”
“Tell me about the situation with the Army defenses,” Homma said,
“What are the components and their deployment?”
“The Americans have been organizing a Filipino army. The
Philippines Scouts are the main component of defense. Our estimate of
their force strength is approximately fifty thousand men. Only forty
thousand are combat troops the rest are support elements. These support
units are mostly unarmed. We know that the American plan calls for the
creation of a much larger army of reserves with a regular officer corps and
non-commissioned officers.
These reserve units have been training in various places in the
Philippines but they are not properly equipped and even if they had force
strength of one hundred thousand men they would not be an effective
fighting component.”
“What about the American Army units,” Homma asked, “What does
General MacArthur do?”
“It is not clear. General MacArthur lives in the Manila Hotel. He
seldom leaves the hotel. When he does, he usually goes to the Presidential
Palace and returns directly to the hotel. The Army Headquarters is not far
away from the hotel. General MacArthur’s staff works there. It comprises

only 15 staff personnel and some Filipino clerks. The main force is located
at Fort Stotesenberg. It is seventy-five miles north of Manila. It is a horse
mounted cavalry division. Lt. General Wainwright commands it. The
cavalry division is supported by some light field artillery. There are some
older tanks, no regular American infantry, only Filipino scouts.”
“I suppose all this is detailed in your reports,” Homma said.
“Yes Sir, it’s is all here.”
“Good, have a futon and food brought in. I will study the reports
tonight and sleep here tonight,” Homma, said, “I want to leave as early as is
practical in the morning.”
“Yes Sir! Do you want to see Ambassador Maeda before he goes
home?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Homma said, “If there is time when we get
back I will see him.”
By the time he went to sleep in the early morning hours of the
following day General Homma had studied and digested the bulk of the
materials assembled by Shimada and his agents. There was far more
information than he really needed but the detail helped him to understand
what an invasion force might be up against. The intangible element, he
thought, is the quality of the leadership. Just how good would the
American commanders be? It was the only question that remained in his
mind. He slept fitfully until dawn when Shimada came to take him to a
waiting car.

After driving north as far as Fort Stotsenberg they paused briefly
looking at the post’s buildings shimmering in the early morning light. Little
activity could be seen because it was still early. “Looks like a place in one of
those American movies,” Homma said, “All it needs is some Indians.”
Little by little, traffic on the highway increased until their progress
became quite slow. “Lot’s of traffic during the day, along roads in the
Philippines,” Shimada observed, “If you are in a hurry you are sure to be
frustrated.”
Just before noon they stopped in a small village. They sat in the
shade of a giant tree drinking lukewarm tea from a container that Shimada
brought from the trunk of the car. Children from the village crowded
around to gawk at the intruders. It made Homma nervous and he stood up
and gruffly gave an order to get back on the road. In the early afternoon
they reached the beach on the gulf and looked out at the gentle surf that
rolled in from the South China Sea. It was a beautiful cloudless day and
given a stretch of the imagination they were halfway convinced they could
see all he way to Formosa eight hundred miles away.
“No evidence of any army deployment along here,” Homma said, “Is
there anywhere else we should look?”
“There’s a small airfield at a place called Appari further on a bay
around the end the island,” Shimada said, “We can drive there by night
fall.”
“I’ve seen enough,” Homma said, “I’d like you to check on Appari

yourself next week. Let’s head back to Manila. There are some things I like
to check out in the other direction from the city.”
By eight o’clock that evening they were driving into the outskirts of
the city. They went directly to the Embassy and Homma went to sleep
without eating. Before Shimada left the building he left orders for the night
duty officer to check on Homma before his shift ended, “Homma-san may
wake up hungry. Make sure he has something to eat if that happens,”
Shimada said.
Homma slept fitfully until 4 AM when he turned on the light to
check the time and decided to get up. After going to the bathroom he
returned to the map table and began pondering the terrain south of Manila.
He was considering the possibility of a pincers movement on the city a
swift moving column from the North, meeting up with one launched from
somewhere South of the City when Shimada knocked and entered the
room. “Good morning, General. After we left yesterday, unconfirmed
reports have been coming in that crates of airplanes are being unloaded in
the harbor. They appear to contain fighter aircraft, shipped in a
knockdown configuration to be assembled here. The crates are being
shipped to Nichols Field. We don’t yet know exactly how many but it seems
like a large shipment perhaps as many as forty planes.”
Looking at a map, Homma put his finger over a spot not far from the
city.
“That looks like it’s on the road south. Can we drive by there this

morning?”
“Of course, General. Would you like to eat before we go?”
“Yes, I would like to walk on the street. Is there some western style
restaurant we can walk to,” Homma said, “I would like to have some coffee
this morning.”
Over breakfast Homma quizzed Shimada about the Philippines and
the American presence there. “Shimada-san what is the relationship
between the Filipinos and the Americans? Do the Filipinos want
independence badly enough to fight to get it?
“Muzukashi, des ne,” Shimada said, “That is the main question.
Actually I think the people like the Americans. The Filipino leaders are
against them and want independence because they want the power to
decide everything. But no, I’d say the majority of people would not fight to
get free of the Americans. There are some communists in the countryside
and some patriots who have small influence who would, but most of the
people, I don’t think so.”
“What about the businessmen,” Homma asked, “Do the company
people think like everyone else.”
“It is not like Japan, General,” Shimada said, “There is not a big
company like Mitsubishi or Mitsui in this country. There’s only one big
Japanese bank. There are many smaller Japanese family firms. There are
big landowners of course but they are not industrial companies. On
Mindanao there are Japanese sugar plantations. The American companies

are here but their business is not big.”
“I am here to gather information for a war plan, Shimada-san,”
Homma said, “Is there anything else you think I should know.”
“Sir, it is only my impression but I think the Americans do not really
intend to defend this place,” Shimada responded, “The Filipino army is not
properly equipped and trained. You can see that the important defenses
are in place at and around Corregidor coast defense guns looking over
Manila Bay. Without tanks and modern airplanes how can they fight?”
By the end of the day, General Homma had completed the outline of a
war plan in his head. Back in the office he sat meditating on his futon, legs
crossed and his back ramrod stiff. His mind was serene and his conscious
thoughts were vague outlines of scenes from the day’s journey the almost
empty flight line at the American airfield, the local traffic on the road, and
finally the broad beaches south of the city. Nothing disquieting crossed his
mind.

Chapter 20
Manila: Catching Spies
Caleb Bingham sat at his desk staring at two cables that had reached
his desk in the morning distribution of regular dispatches. The first was
from the State Department Asia Desk in Washington. It formally notified all
addressees that Japan’s armed forces had occupied all of Indo-China, and
finally sealed the border between southwestern China and the rest of the
world. This action cut off Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist Government from
access to supplies being sent by the United States and Great Britain. The
second cable consisted of an Executive Order from the President of the
United States. Placed an embargo on shipments of oil to Japan from the US.
The order froze all Japanese owned assets in the United States, and
required all Japanese nationals to register with the authorities in each
political jurisdiction in the United States and it’s overseas possessions.
Caleb checked his watch, and then called Yamagata at his law office.
Good morning Clarence,” Bingham said, “Remember that
conversation we had about registering Japanese nationals, well I am
looking at an Executive Order from the President that just came in. It puts
in place an embargo of oil shipments to Japan, freezes all Japanese owned
assets in the US and it’s possessions, and requires all Japanese nationals to
register with the US government.”
Yamagata sat stunned by the news, “I can’t believe it,” he said, “The
Japanese government will be outraged.”

“Well, our government is outraged,” Bingham said, “The Japanese
have invaded all of Indo-China and closed the border to China. This order is
an effort to register our displeasure I guess. Can you come over and discuss
what to do.”
“Sure. I’ve thought about it, and I’ve come up with a plan one that
might work to register every one we can find. I’ll see you in an hour.”
Yamagata was pleased with the outcome of his meeting with Caleb
Bingham. They decided to proceed with public notification, and the
printing of a registration form with all the questions the government
wanted answered. Yamagata called the Nishikawa Hotel and left a message
for Sakamoto to call him back. Later that same afternoon Sakamoto called
and they arranged to meet at the hotel that night.
Later, when they settled at a table in the dining room at the
Nishikawa Hotel, Yamagata pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and
said, “Here’s the stuff I got from the administration this morning. There’s a
form that’s being printed up to register each individual Japanese national.
Here are the questions they have to answer when they fill out the form.”
“I understand the questions about bank accounts,” Sakamoto said,
“But are questions about membership in the Japanese military or patriotic
organizations? Will anyone be willing to answer truthfully?”
“Well, if they don’t, they could be charged with perjury,” Yamagata
said. “As a practical matter, I don’t know if it would ever come be a
problem, but it is dangerous to lie on an official form. It could have serious

legal consequences.”
“What do you want me to do,” Sakamoto asked, “encourage them to
tell the truth or just let them do whatever?”
“Why don’t you register a few and see what the problems are,”
Yamagata said, “We an always decide what course to take later.”
“When do you plan start this?”
“The official notification will be next week. There will be a phone
number to call, and the forms can be picked up at our offices. I’ll have a
supply of forms sent over to you and you can make it known that you are
willing to help fill them out. We can post a notice at the Japan Club, and
here at the hotel. Any other suggestions?”
“Gosh, I don’t think so,” Sakamoto replied, “Let me think about this
and I’ll get back to you tomorrow if I think of anything.”
“Good. Thanks for helping us with this,” Yamagata said.
“Don’t mention it,” Sakamoto said with a grin, “I’m really not helping
you. I’m just going to be helping them to fill out their forms properly.”
The following morning the Japanese invasion of Indo-China was at
the top of the front page of every newspaper in Manila. News of the
President’s Executive Orders appeared further down. By nightfall the alien
registration issue was the main topic of conversation in the dining room of
the hotel. Sakamoto was sitting at a table with several other residents
when the questions started. “What do you think will happen,” an elderly
man asked, “Will they take our bank accounts away from us?”

I don’t think so,” Sakamoto said, “The US government is just worried
and angry with Japan for invading China and now Indo-China. This is a
way of warning everyone that the US policy in Asia is being broken by
Japan.”
“Do you think this means war with the United States,” another man
asked.
“I don’t have any idea,” Sakamoto said, deciding to dissemble
slightly, “I’m pretty disgusted with America right now the way they treat
us Asians isn’t fair. Anyway, if you want me to assist you with registering
I’d be glad to help.”
When the room had nearly emptied after dinner, and Richard had
settled in to read the evening news, Robert Casey approached and sat down
with his dinner tray. “Hi, Richard, what are you up to,” he said.
“Just reading the news,” Sakamoto responded, “The Japanese have
invaded Indo-China. And, that’s made President Roosevelt angry. He’s just
put an embargo on the sale of petroleum to Japan. It says here, that this is
to stop Japan from making aviation gasoline and bombing innocent
Chinese civilians. Also, the US is requiring all Japanese nationals in the
county to register with the local authorities.”
“How will that affect you,” Robert asked.
“I don’t know,” Sakamoto said, “I’m an American citizen born in
Hawaii so I guess I’ll be okay. I’m going to help anyone who needs me. I sure
that some of the older Japanese men here will want some assistance with

the registration paperwork.”
“It must feel strange to be living in another country and then be
singled out for some government program that makes you out a possible
enemy or criminal,” Robert said, “I know I’d be upset.”
“Yes that’s right. Anyone could be an agent of a foreign government.
How you figure out who is or who isn’t sounds pretty difficult to me. Well,
we’ll see what happens. I sure hope people like the Fujitas don’t have
trouble. They’re nice people,” Richard said. Then he added shaking his
head, “Of course they could be spies.”
In the weeks that followed the Japanese nationals in Manila met
among themselves daily to discuss the impending registration. Richard
Sakamoto was consulted, and he volunteered to help all of the residents of
the Nishikawa Hotel with their paperwork. When the registration forms
actually appeared there was much consternation about a section that
asked for the current or prior military status of the registrant. A number
of them asked Sakamoto for help and invariably, when they came to the
questions regarding their connections with Japan they discussed what the
consequences might be if they told the truth. “Sakamoto-san, I am a Major
in the Japanese Army,” one man said, “If I tell that will I be put in prison?”
“I wouldn’t do it,” Sakamoto said, “They might think you are a spy
and arrest you.”
“Do you think they would do that,” the man asked, “I’m afraid what’s
going to happen if a war breaks out.”

“Yes, that would be bad,” Sakamoto said, “I am thinking what to do
myself.”
The Japan Club of Manila invited Sakamoto to a meeting several
days later. When he walked in the door of what he knew to be a very
exclusive club for senior executives, and people in the Japanese Embassy,
he was surprised by the reception he got. The president of the Club chaired
a meeting of the members, and Sakamoto was introduced as a person who
could advise them on the registration forms and he was asked to speak. He
explained that he would be happy to help anyone with a problem and that
he was doing this as a free public service in the evening following normal
business hours. He gave his address and phone number to the group and
invited them to call upon him. Following the meeting he was surrounded in
the bar by people trying to buy him drinks and sign up for a consultation.
When he finally got back to his room he called Clarence Yamagata
and explained what had happened. “I couldn’t believe it Yamagata-san, I
was practically mobbed at the Japan Club tonight. At least fifty people
wanted me to help with their alien registration.”
“So, what did you do,” Yamagata asked.
“Well, I gave them my number at the hotel and told them to call for
an appointment. I guess I’ll ask the clerk at the desk to make the
appointments and then figure out how long each one is going to take.”
“Why don’t you just meet them in small groups in the dining room
after dinner each night.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Sakamoto responded, “That way I can
probably get to everyone in a couple of weeks. I need to talk to you about a
couple of issues regarding this form”
“What’s that?”
“Some of them will be reluctant to discuss their prior military
connection. I’ve already had one man tell me he is an officer in the
Japanese Army. I’m not sure if he meant he was in the reserve or what, but
I am sure this issue will come up. I am reluctant to advise anyone to report
something that could get him arrested. Then there is the issue of bank
accounts. I’ve got the same reservations about that.”
Yamagata laughed, “You know how Japanese are about money.
They’ll probably take all their money out of the bank and put it under their
mattresses.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Sakamoto said, “I’m probably overreacting.”
“My approach will be to work on a few of these cases and see what
comes up. We can probably get an answer worked out for. In the meantime,
I’ll check with the High Commissioner’s office and see if I can get you some
guidance Let me get back to you on both these things by tomorrow
afternoon.”
“Sounds good.”
Later the same night, Sakamoto, called the number he had been
given and asked to meet with his intelligence control. Shortly after
midnight he walked out to catch a cab to his pickup point. As he was

standing on the curb waiting to be picked up he thought This is probably
the first real chance to collect any useful information. I wonder what will
be come of it all.
A tall gray haired man in civilian clothes greeted Sakamoto. “Jack
Clymer, lieutenant, I’m going to be your case officer. Sorry I haven’t had a
chance to have you come in for a talk. It’s been pretty busy around here.”
“I understand I’m just getting my feet on the ground in Manila
myself. But now something has come up and I need some instructions.”
“What can I do for you,” Clymer said.
“As you undoubtedly know, all the Japanese aliens are to be
registered by our government. A Japanese-American lawyer named
Yamagata who does legal work for the High Commissioner has asked me to
help him with the registration. It looks like I’m going to be pretty busy
helping individuals fill out their registration forms.”
“Yes, I know about that.” Clymer said, “Actually we’ve been
interested in Yamagata for some time. What do you know about him? Any
impressions?”
Yes, of course. He seems like a good guy. He’s obviously hard working
and he seems like a loyal American. I had a few reservations about being
involved in this whole process and he reassured me. Said he’d consult with
the High Commissioner’s office and get back to me. Do you suspect him of
being a Japanese agent?”
Clymer laughed. “No. He seems a little too good. Know what I mean.

He’s got a reputation for being a conservative lawyer, and he certainly is
well connected in both the Japanese and American communities.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well the problem is, that we’ve had surveillance going on him for the
past three months. Two days ago I went to this joint Army/Navy
intelligence liaison meeting. And he came in and sat down right across
from me, and in front of everyone, he asked me to stop having him
followed. Clarence Yamagata is a US naval intelligence officer!”
“That must have been embarrassing.”
“Very!”
“So, does he know about me?”
“No, and I don’t want you to break cover. He’s not to know even if he
asks you directly. Under no circumstances are you to break cover without
my direct permission. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir. “What about this registration thing? I’ve already had one
Japanese man tell me he’s a Major in the Japanese Army. I’m sure most
Japanese are going to have a hard time telling a lie on an official form. I
don’t know what role to play. Yamagata was stressing to me how the
perjury laws apply in this case. He encouraged me to have them tell the
truth but I said I was uncomfortable with a role one way or another. I acted
like I had scruples about getting anyone in trouble. He’s supposed to get
back to me on that.”
“That’s good thinking Sakamoto,” Clymer said, “Keep to your cover

story. You don’t hate America but you are disgruntled about racial
prejudice and being discriminated against. Keep track of everyone you
work with and let me have as much information as you can gather.
Actually, there are several other people we are convinced may be Japanese
agents. The first is the principal of the Kodama Language School. His name
is Nishida. We’ve tried to locate records of him in Japan and there is
nothing. The other man is the head Buddhist Priest at the temple here in
Manila. The manager of the Sumitomo Bank is another prime candidate.
He’s a member of the Japan Club so you may run across him.
“Do you want me to go out of my way to try and get information on
these people?”
“It’s really up to you,” Clymer said, “Best not to put your cover in
jeopardy but you might think of some good way to uncover their
backgrounds. Good luck running this stuff down. Stay in touch and if you
need anything just give a call.”
When Yamagata called the next morning, he told Sakamoto he
thought it best for him to be neutral and not offer any advice one way or
another. He would, he said be advising his Japanese clients that Richard
was helping him with the registration and would be steering people in his
direction. By the end of the week Sakamoto was dealing with dozens of
registrants every night. At first he worked in the dining room of the hotel
but then moved to his room to get more privacy. He was astonished to
discover that one out of two aliens was a Japanese military reservist. They

were all hesitant about revealing their past but most of them finally
decided to admit their connection. Then one night a man showed up in a
suit that had obviously seen better days. He asked to see Richard Sakamoto
alone. He seemed slightly drunk, and after a long rambling conversation he
admitted that he was an intelligence officer. He said he was a graduate of
an intelligence school and had “been a ghost” for nearly twenty years.
“What’s a ghost,” Sakamoto asked.
“When you graduate,” the man said, “the authorities notify your
family that you have been killed. From that time on you are dead. You
cannot contact anyone who knew you before, and you must stay in the
country they assign you for the rest of your life.”
“Why are you telling me this,” Sakamoto asked, “Surely you
shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Mr. Yamagata told me you are from Hawaii,” the man said, “I have a
sister living there and I am wondering if you might know her. I want to go
there and see if I can find her.”
“What is her name?”
“Kazuko Yagawa,” the man said, “Do you know her?”
“No, I don’t,” Sakamoto said, “But I may be able to help you find her.
Is your name Yagawa”
“It used to be Yagawa, now it’s Kubo. What should I do about this
form? I don’t want to tell anything.”
Sakamoto thought for a minute and said, “Don’t say anything. That’s

the safest thing, Kubo-san. Please don’t tell anyone I said anything. I will
try to find out about your sister.”
Kubo was clearly moved and Sakamoto thought he was going to
break down in tears. Where do you work, Kubo-san,” he asked.
“In the laundry on Cavite base,” Kubo said, “I’ve been there for a
year. Before that I worked in the machine shop.”
Sakamoto was very surprised. This man is right in the middle of the
American navy operations and nobody has the slightest idea, he thought.
He decided to end the conversation and he said, “Well, Kubo-san I’ll send a
letter to Hawaii and see if we can find your sister. I’ve got to go to sleep now
because I have to go to work early in the morning.” Kubo-san mumbled an
apology and left after giving Sakamoto his phone number. Richard was
strangely moved by Kubo’s story. The man’s situation is more extreme but
not so much different from my own, he thought. He knew that he had to
turn the man in to Clymer but he really didn’t want to do it. He decided to
wait a few days and collect some more information on the people he was
scheduled to see before contacting Clymer.
The next three days were even more astonishing. Sakamoto made
contact with the head of the Japanese Language School the very next day.
The man’s name was Watanabe and he had been in the Philippines for
nearly ten years. The bulk of the registration form had already been filled
out, but there was a blank where the military background was to be
disclosed. With great hesitancy, Watanabe admitted that he was a Colonel,

and the highest ranked military intelligence officer in the Philippines. He
was so agitated when he was talking about it Sakamoto had difficulty
understanding his Japanese. Finally, Watanabe asked Sakamoto what he
should do. “If you are worried about it I would not say anything,” Sakamoto
said, “Do you think the American authorities suspect that you might be in
the Japanese Army?”
“The reason I am worried is because I think they may be watching
me,” Watanabe said, “I can’t be sure but I feel so. I am so worried for my
wife. What will happen to her if they take me off to prison?” Then he wrote
“Nothing to declare” in the space and signed the registration form.
The next morning Yamagata called Sakamoto at the hotel and asked
him to meet for lunch. “There is a client of mine who wants some help with
his Alien Registration Form,” he said, “He’s asked for my support. I told
him you are the expert in this business. I hope you don’t mind meeting
with him.”
“No, not at all,” Sakamoto said, “I’ve got some Registration Forms to
give you. They’re all filled out. I can give them to you at your office on the
way to lunch.”
He spent the rest of the morning making a list of the names on the
forms and adding notes behind each name. The notes detailed all that he
had learned about the military affiliations of the registrants. His plan was
to talk with Clymer as soon as he could make contact. He finished just
before noon, put on a fresh suit, and headed for Yamagata’s office. As soon

as he arrived he was ushered into Yamagata’s private chamber.
“What have you got for me,” Yamagata said.
“These are the first batch of completed forms,” Sakamoto said,
handing over two manila envelopes, “I’ve got many more people who want
help than I can handle.”
“Does anything standout,” Yamagata asked, looking at a handful of
forms.
“The financial information is pretty much what you’d expect,”
Sakamoto said, “But over half the guys have military experience, and are
either active, or reserve members of the Japanese army.”
“Really! I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Yamagata said, “Do you think
any of them are actively working as agents for Japan?”
“That’s hard to say,” Sakamoto said, “Some say they don’t want to
reveal any information about it and I’d say they could be suspect. But how
do you find out?”
“Well, we’ll just pack this stuff up and turn them over to the High
Commissioner’s office. Let them deal with it,” Yamagata said, “It’s about
time we go to lunch.”
In Yamagata’s car, on the way to lunch, he explained that the person
they were meeting was the President of the Sumitomo Bank of Manila.
“Ono Hideki’s bank is a client of mine. He’ll be joining us at the Lawyer’s
Club for lunch. Ono is a pretty nice guy,” Yamagata added, “I play golf with
him on a regular basis.”

“Why get me involved,” Sakamoto asked.
“Oh, I think he’s someone you should get to know,” Yamagata said,
“Besides, he’s paying for our lunch. The other thing is that I’d like to
remain “hands off” this registration process as much as possible. These
guys are pretty sensitive about this and I don’t want to do any damage to
my client relations.”
“You mean, I’m the fall guy if anything happens,” Sakamoto said.
“It’s something like that. But you know nothing is likely to come of
this,” Yamagata said, “I’d bet my bottom dollar this information will be filed
some place and never see the light of day.”
Prime rib was featured at the Lawyer’s Club lunch and Richard
Sakamoto was enjoying his meal. Ono and Yamagata talked about the latest
news and it seemed like a natural thing when Yamagata brought up the
subject of alien registration. “Sakamoto-san has been helping people fill out
their forms, Ono-san,” Yamagata said, “He’s been pretty busy with all the
folks who need help.”
“I’ve heard that some of my friends over at the Japan Club were
talking about how helpful you’ve been,” Ono responded, smiling at Richard.
“Really, that’s nice,” Sakamoto said, “It’s really a simple procedure
but people do worry about getting it all down correctly.”
“How seriously do you think the authorities are taking this,” Ono
asked, looking at both men.
“Very, I’d say,” said Yamagata, “I don’t know what the Treasury

Department will do about Japanese owned assets in the United States but I
guess they could confiscate them if they chose to do so. Of course the
owners would have recourse to the courts. But that could be along and
costly procedure for the plaintiffs. A shooting war if it comes to that well I’d
say all bets are off then.”
“Naturally, we have to be concerned about this at the bank,” Ono
said, “We haven’t had any policy directive from the home office yet, but I
expect something to come through soon. We have an awful lot of money on
deposit and our customers, especially the business clients, are flooding us
with requests for advice. Frankly, I don’t know what to tell them.”
“That’s a tough situation to be in,” Yamagata said, “If you like you
can refer your big clients to us. I can always ask the High Commissioner’s
office for advice and counsel. It might alleviate your problem a little.”
“If you are willing to do that, I can send you one or two clients
immediately,” Ono said, “I’d also like to have Sakamoto-san stop by and talk
with me and some of my staff about this.”
“I don’t mind,” Richard said, “When would you like me to come.”
“How about after lunch,” Ono said, “I’d like you to see my office.”
As they were leaving the Club, Yamagata asked Richard to call him
after his visit to the bank. As Ono-san and Richard walked to the bank, Ono
asked Richard about his background and life before coming to Manila.
Richard gave him the outline story that he’d developed and, trying not to
sound like a chronic complainer, talked about his dissatisfaction with

racism and discriminatory treatment of Asians in the United States. Ono
did not respond but kept asking questions about Hawaii and what
Sakamoto knew about the American military presence there. When the
reached the bank he ushered Sakamoto into a teak lined office with a large
desk, a side table, and two easy chairs that faced each other across a low
table with a Japanese tea set on a tray. A young Japanese woman entered
the room and poured tea for them.
They sipped the tea in silence for a while and then Ono said,
“Sakamoto-san, I have heard very good things about you from many
people. Now that I have made your acquaintance through Yamagata-san, I
can see that the things I have heard are true. As you know this registration
question came as a very big surprise to us Japanese. I have great concern
for my clients and myself.
*.*.*
The trail into the mountains from Danao wound along small arroyos
and around tiny groups of huts where Filipino families lived on meager
resources in the shade of a few scrawny palm trees. Jim Casey was making
a first ride on his new mount. He was on a bay mare that nuzzled his hand
in the corral early that morning. The unfamiliar new saddle was chaffing
his legs in several places. I sure am out of shape, he reflected. I don’t know
how far I can ride today. I think I should work up slowly to a longer trip.
Then he decided that if he found a decent place to camp before it got too
late he could stop for the night and then explore a little further the next

day before going back. Examining a sketch of the way the trail went that
was provided by the stable foreman Jim thought it pretty confusing. Still,
he thought how could I get that lost. I’ve been in much more rugged terrain
in Mexico and didn’t loose my way. Cebu is an Island so I should be okay
By early afternoon, the terrain had changed and he found himself
moving along underneath the towering trees of what seemed like localized
rain forest. Vines and underbrush were thick on either side of the trail.
Then the mare picked her way across a small stream that cascaded down
the middle of a narrow gorge. The trail left the valley and began a slow
ascent up the side of an encircling mountain. The course of the trail was
relatively straight but steep as they climbed higher. At one point Jim
stopped and let his horse drink from a stream that cascaded down off the
mountainside. Gradually the trail leveled out and he found himself in a
valley that contained giant ferns. The floor of the valley had many small
meandering slow moving streams of water threading their way in and
around blankets of rushes and water grass. Further on the trail split, Jim
Casey checked the map and thought, well there’s an arrow pointing off to
the right here, and I guess that’s the trail I’m supposed to take. I think I’ll
go a little way along the left just to see what’s up that way, and then come
back and take this right branch.
A few hundred yards up the trail to the left the terrain opened out to
reveal an astonishingly beautiful pool of water nestled in against a vertical
wall of rock covered with green moss and lichen. A waterfall plunged

steeply down from a source hundreds of feet overhead and fed the pool.
After tying his horse to a nearby tree the Jim stripped and waded in for a
swim, floating on his back looking up at the rock monolith that towered
overhead. It was so peaceful and serene he decided to camp there for the
night.
Over a period of several weeks, Jim Casey acquainted himself with
the foothills below the mountains that ran along the spine of the island in
both directions behind Danao. He panned for gold in the gravel of the many
small streams that came out of the mountains on their way to the marshes
along the coast. There were traces of gold and iron pyrites in most of the
streams. This encouraged him about finding ore bearing veins deeper in the
mountains. After one of his trips he returned to the Suisse Hotel and found
a cable from Robert telling of Golden Dragon’s arrival in Manila. It also
contained the news that Paul Li was scheduled to arrive on the White
steamer from Hong Kong and wanted to see Casey in Manila if he could
arrange to be there.
When Jim arrived in Manila, the newspapers that night carried a
front-page story about an airplane crash. Major James Ord and his
instructor had been killed in an aviation accident north of Clark field. The
crash had destroyed the training plane that James and the instructor had
been flying, and the army military community was in shock over the death
of the two men.
Jim Casey called Ike Eisenhower the next morning to express his

sympathy. He found Ike in a deep funk barely able to talk. He invited Ike to
lunch but Ike refused, saying only that he would call Jim as soon as he
could. That same morning, while Jim was on a trip to the drug store to
replenish his shaving soap, Caleb Bingham called the hotel and left a
message that Paul Li had arrived in town, and suggesting they all get
together. When he went down stairs in the hotel to return Bingham’s call
he found Robert talking to two men in the dining room. “Dad, I’d like you to
meet Captain Cole, and Captain Kang. Captain Cole is commander of one of
our submarines, and Captain Kang is skipper of Golden Dragon, the ship
that just brought our gear down from Hong Kong.”
When the greetings were over, Jim asked Captain Kang, “I just got
word that Paul Li is in town. Do you know where he’s staying?”
“He’s in the Garden Palace Hotel. I haven’t seen him much because
he’s in negotiations to buy the place. He said he expects to wrap thing up
today, but I haven’t heard anything yet.
“You mean, buy the hotel,” Jim asked, “That comes as a surprise.”
“I talked with Li Song about it,” Robert said, “He’s going to put a
gentlemen’s club in on the top floors. Madame Chen is here planning the
remodeling and decorations.
“That’s amazing,” Jim said, “Paul doesn’t let any grass grow under
his feet does he?”
“He’s pretty deliberate,” Captain Kang said, “But once he makes up
his mind he’s very quick to act. He told me he’s been thinking about

expanding his business here in the Philippines for a long time. I guess this
is it.”
“I need to get in touch with him,” Casey said, “Do you have the
telephone number of the hotel?”
At a dinner arranged by Caleb Bingham, to include Jim Casey and
Paul Li, the three men sat contentedly sipping their wine after finishing
lamb chops with mint sauce. “This is good wine, Caleb,” Jim said, “What is
it?”
“It’s a Pinot Noir,” Caleb said, “The sommelier over at the Manila
Hotel put me on to it. I bought five cases from him, and I’ve only got three
left. I’m glad you like it. How about you Paul, do you like this wine.”
“Yes, I do,” Paul said, “Actually I’m partial to brandy, but I am
enjoying this. It tastes good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Caleb said, “Actually there is a piece of business
I want to talk to you both about. It concerns the Benguet district up near
Baguio. There is a gold mine there operated by a Japanese company. We
don’t have any idea how much they manage to produce. We suspect they
cheat on the published reports of their production, but so far we haven’t
had any proof, and until now it hasn’t seemed worth worrying much about.
The Japanese have some Filipino partners. They are a shadowy bunch. As
far as we can determine they are just a small time group of local gangsters
who front for the real owners.”
“So what’s the problem,” Paul asked.

“A Presidential order to seize all Japanese assets in the Philippines
has just come down,” Caleb said, “This means we have to take over the
mines and then determine if it’s worth continuing operations or if it’s
better to just shut them down. I need Jim to look into it and give us some
idea about what to do.”
“That shouldn’t take long,” Jim said, “If I can get a look at the books
and see the operations, I should be able to wrap the job up in a week at the
outside. You don’t mind if I take the time to do this, do you Paul?”
“Caleb, what if you take over the mine, and the decision is to
continue operating,” Paul said, “Can we somehow get the concession and
pay the government a royalty or something.”
“Good you should ask,” Caleb said, “That’s exactly what I have in
mind. We sure as hell aren’t going to run it ourselves, and there aren’t any
other experienced mining operators I know of in the islands. We’ve already
checked that out.”
“In that case, I’m all for it,” Paul said, “What’s to be done?
“I’ll check with the legal office and find out what procedure we should
follow. It shouldn’t be too complicated. I’ll get back to you Jim, as soon as I
get things rolling.” Caleb then passed around cigars and they sat quietly
savoring the flavor. Finally, Caleb said, “What’s this about you buying a
hotel in Manila, Paul?”
“Well, it’s something I’ve thought about for some time,” Paul said, “I
like it down here, and I’ve wanted to expand here for a long time. There

wasn’t much more we could do with our trading business here so I decided
to expand on something we already do in Hong Kong.”
“How far along are the negotiation,” Jim asked.
“We sign papers in a day or so,” Paul said, “The property is pretty
run down. There are a lot of changes I want to make. It’s going to take a
while to build it out and decorate the way I want it.”
“Sounds good, we need another first class place in the city,” Caleb
said, “How are things in China?
“These are interesting times,” Paul said, “We Chinese are cursed by
war. Frankly I have never seen things quite this bad. Everyone thought
when the Japanese attacked near Shanghai that Chiang Kai-shek’s army
could win a major victory there. Instead, the Japanese just added more
and more men until they overwhelmed the Chinese forces. They are beset
by some military devil ceaselessly gobbling up more and more of China.
Unfortunately Chiang Kai-shek thinks the communists are the greater
danger. He keeps spending resources trying to put them down. I don’t know
what he thinks he will do when the Japanese claim everything.”
“What’s the Japanese objective? Surely they can’t think they can
rule all of Asia,” Jim asked.
“There is some over all design,” Paul said, “My sources haven’t been
able to find out the details of the plan. They seem to react to events that
happen on the battlefield, but without a plan how could they manage to put
so many ships on the sea and so many men into the battle exactly when

they need them. These things cannot happen by accident.”
“There is certainly something barbaric about the Japanese race,”
Caleb said, “I’ve heard they butcher soldiers and civilians alike. Do you
know anything about that?”
“It’s true,” Paul said, “My information is that a wholesale massacre
happened in Nanking. There was widespread raping and looting. Many
civilians were butchered and the Japanese troops were beheading people
with swords in the streets. The routinely use prisoners for bayonet
practice. They didn’t seem to murder Western people but for Chinese it was
very bad.”
*.*.*
The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity. Paul Li was in
high spirits following the closing of the deal to buy the hotel. His infectious
enthusiasm and high energy were communicated to everyone in a rapid-
fire succession of lunches, meeting, and dinners. He hired the Tan brothers,
Lucio and Ernesto, a pair of energetic young Chinese-Filipino architects, to
do a set of plans for the hotel building revisions and promised them the
work if they could organize a construction operation to speed the building
along. Even Jim and Robert Casey were dragged into the project when he
asked them to do some engineering calculations on the building’s structure
to see if the extra floor he wanted to add on top of the building could be
supported. The Tan brother’s plans indicated that there would be no
problem, but Paul Li in his prudent fashion wanted to double check. Caleb

Bingham introduced Jim and Robert to the engineering department
manager at the High Commission Office. They spent a day in the library
there to consult some engineering materials handbooks, and after two days
of measuring and calculating came up with two changes that they felt
might stiffen the building enough to withstand the added weight of a
sixteenth floor. Within days of submitting the revised plans, the Casey’s
saw progress being made on the construction front. Swarms of workmen
were busy erecting a scaffold made of thick bamboo poles over the entire
exterior of the building. “Look at that will you,” Jim said, “It’s like one giant
erector set made of bamboo. That stuff is really tough. I could never have
imagined such a perfect construction material.
“It would make great stuff to use in building mine sites,” Robert said,
“It’s so light it can easily be carried, and wired up to support just about any
kind of temporary structure. I’ll bet the Filipinos use it in dozens of
different applications.”
Robert was seeing Rose Ryan after work every evening. Their
relationship was ripening into what both of them thought might prove to be
a long-term thing. The intensity of their attraction for each other was
amazing. They made love anywhere they could and the intensity of the
experience was both exhilarating and exhausting.
One night after a wild session of love-making as they were lying
covered with perspiration and still panting from the violent expression of
their passion Rose told Robert that her period was late, and that she was

afraid she was pregnant. “I’m usually so regular,” Rose said, “I can’t believe
I am so late.
“How many days,” Robert asked.
“Five, and I’ve never been more than twenty-eight days right on the
button.”
He raised himself up on an elbow and grinned down at her, “Well
Rose, the way we’ve been making love it would have to be some kind of
miracle if you weren’t pregnant.
“What will we do,” She asked, “Neither one of us is ready for a
permanent relationship, let alone raising a child.”
He leaned down and nuzzled her breast “Who says so? I’d love
keeping you barefoot and pregnant for the rest of your life.”
“You big dummy,” she said hitting him with a pillow, “I’ve never met
anybody so smug and insufferable. You men are all the same. I’ll have this
baby all by myself and you will never be able to see it, or me ever again.”
Then she started to cry.
“Sweetheart, stop crying. I love you. I’ve loved you since the first
night at the dance,” Robert said, “I didn’t mean to be so flippant sounding.
Of course we will get married and be happy. I’d be crazy if I let you get
away, baby or no baby.”
“Oh, Robert I love you so much. I ache inside. I can barely get
through the days in the hospital. All I want to do is spend time with you.”
The next day, Rose Ryan applied for a month’s leave from her

nursing job. Since she had accumulated so much overtime duty, and had
the requisite number of vacation days her application was approved a day
later. She and Robert planned a trip to Cebu and with Jim Casey’s blessing
they boarded the night boat for Cebu. The gear from Hong Kong was
shipped aboard the same vessel for Robert to pick up at the port in Cebu.

Chapter 21
American Radio Intercepts
Captain Frank Beacon, master of the passenger ship President Grant
and a naval reserve Commander, met Lt. Arley Brown at the gangplank.
“Morning Arley, sorry to be leaving Honolulu on a Sunday, I’ll bet you
didn’t want to get up this early.”
“No problem, Captain,” Brown said, handing over two thick brown
leather briefcases, “I’ve been up all night anyway.”
“Partying?”
“No Sir, my night’s work is all in here Japanese intercepts.”
“Anything special?”
“It must be something. The traffic is up 500% over the normal
transmissions. We can’t read it but the traffic analysis shows a lot of
messages going out to ships all over the pacific. There’s a big hole though
the Inland Sea station where the Japanese Fleet Command is located is
basically off the air. We assume their aircraft carriers are there but who
knows. They could be anywhere.
“You’ll figure it out if anyone can, Lt.,” said Beacon, “I’ll drop these
off at Treasure Island as soon as we hit San Francisco at the end of the
week. How about a cup of coffee?”
The two men were soon seated in Captain Beacon’s day room just
behind the ship’s bridge. A Filipino orderly brought coffee and steaming
fresh sweet rolls. Captain Beacon who had more than a passing interest in

crypto analysis, asked, “Any luck with the Jap codes?”
“We’re making progress. A friend of mine in Manila has put a can
opener on part of the can of worms. Entirely by accident, he discovered
that the Japanese code clerks are using the commercial marine Morse
code books to indicate the meanings of some of the groups they send. I
guess with all that’s going on they just can’t keep up can’t encode all of the
messages they are asked to send.”
“I know what that’s like,” Beacon said, “When I was in charge of the
radio shack here at Pearl, sometimes we’d be so busy we had to send traffic
completely in the clear.”
“It’s still that way Captain,” Brown said, “We can’t train operators
fast enough.”
“What else is new?”
“We’re installing a new direction finding loop. Tests so far, are pretty
good. Bainbridge up near Seattle has been running one for nearly a year
now and they get Tokyo traffic clear as a bell.”
“How many listening stations are you running these days?”
“When the atmospherics are good we’ve got twelve stations we can
get up if we have the operators. Sometimes I listen myself but lately there’s
been so much traffic I am just trying to figure out where it’s all going too
and coming from.”
“How do you like the work?”
“At first I had my doubts. But now it’s gotten under my skin. I go

home at night and think about code groups all night long. I guess I’m
hooked.”
At Cavite Naval base in the Philippines, two men listened intently to
short wave radio broadcasts on frequencies used by the Japanese. The roof
of the room they occupied was covered with radio antennas and a large
loop-like radio direction finding antenna.
“Here’s one, copy this down, its ship traffic.”
“KUNA,” Got it Joe. That’s probably the call sign. Right?”
“Yup! That sounds familiar. Ok, now here’s the direction.”
“What’s the next step?’
“Look it up in the list. Sure. That’s the call sign of one of our old
friends. The last intercept had it at 10.7-north latitude by 166.7 east
longitude. It hasn’t moved much. See it’s in the Jap mandate islands.”
“How do you get the exact spot?”
“Can’t get it from here. The boys in Hawaii have to have a fix from at
least two places. Three is even better.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Just simple triangulation you draw a line on the chart out from here
in the direction the signal is coming from. When Hawaii gets the report
from say, Midway, they draw a line in the direction they give and where the
two lines cross, that’s the position of the ship when it sent this message.”
“How does our intercept get to Hawaii?”
“We pack ‘em up and send them to Hawaii on the Pan American

Clipper. There’s a lock box built right into the plane. It’s pretty secure.”
In Hawaii, far to the East, and across the International Dateline,
Commander Joseph J. Rochefort was introducing a small group of new
officers to the Combat Intelligence Unit, “Our job is to develop information
to help track the activities of the Japanese Navy in the Pacific. A couple of
years ago, starting in 1937 the Navy established, direction finder equipped,
radio listening posts in a big arc across the Pacific. You can think of it as a
wheel, with Hawaii as the hub. From posts at the naval station at
Bainbridge, Washington, Dutch Harbor, Alaska, Midway, Guam, Samoa, and
the Philippines, we can pinpoint with accuracy the origin of radio signals
over a broad piece of ocean. By tracking the radio traffic you can get a
pretty complete picture of what the Japanese fleet is doing at any one point
in time. Any questions?”
“What about the content of the radio traffic? Can you read what’s
coming in.”
“Glad you asked,” Rochefort said, “Until November, last year we were
able to decipher about 90% of what we saw. We’ve been reading their stuff
since 1928 when we first were able to crack their code. We got better and
better at it. Then, there was a change of the code. We’ve had people on it
round the clock to try and break it down. Our guys in Washington D.C and
in the Philippines are working on the main Fleet Officers code, in our
parlance JN25b. Here in Hawaii we’re working on up to eight of the lesser
codes concerning the nuts and bolts stuff engineering, personnel, fleet

exercises, weather and administration. We’ve made some good recent
progress and we’re hopeful we’ll have a good read on the tactical stuff
pretty quick.”
“What about China?”
We had a listening station in the US Consulate in Shanghai for many
years. Since the end of the year we’ve been deaf there. As you know the
Asiatic Fleet left China and is now based in Manila.”
“What’s the most important qualification for this job?”
Laughing, Rochefort said, “A cast iron ass. Let’s go to lunch.”
Lt. Arley Brown joined the group on the way to the Officers Mess. He
introduced himself to two officers at the back of the pack, “Hi, I’m Lt.
Brown. How’s your briefing going.”
Good, Lieutenant, I take it that your part of this outfit. My name’s
Hutton, and this is lieutenant Vandenhoyvel.”
“Nice to meet you. Yes, I haven’t been here very long but I am up to
my neck in the work.”
“What’s Commander Rochefort’s background? Do you know”?
“Commander Joseph J. Rochefort. Well I guess he may be the only
man in the Navy with the kind of background you really need for this job.
He’s fluent in Japanese, knows a lot about radio, and he’s one of the
brainiest cryptographers around. Brilliant I’d have to say.”
“We guessed that. He certainly seems to know his stuff.”
“That’s an understatement.”

“What’s there to do in Honolulu, Lieutenant,” Vandenhoyvel asked.”
“To be honest, I don’t know,” Arley said, “I’ve been so busy between
work and study that I’ve only been in town once since I got here two
months ago.”

Chapter 22
General Homma Plans the Invasion of the Philippines
The Army War College annex in Tokyo, located on a backstreet well
out of the downtown section of the city, was a perfect place to hide. Space
was at a premium in the war Department, and when he was offered an
office in this out-of-the-way place General Homma jumped at it. His office
looked out over a seldom-used exercise field, and he could look out and see
the garden of the park beyond. As he contemplated the scene he thought to
himself it is one thing to want to do something and quite another to make
plans to ensure that you can succeed.
Since early morning he had been attempting to turn his
observations, and knowledge of the intelligence materials he had seen in
Manila, into a written draft of a plan. His own experience of command had
cultivated a pragmatic caution that ruled out the kind of bombastic claims
that permeated the younger officer corps of the Japanese army. “Wars are
won by the spilling of blood,: he had cautioned his young subordinates, “No
one should take lightly the responsibility of making your sure your plans
will ensure minimum loss of life. You owe it to the nation.”

His critics, and there were many, claimed that he was infected by the
“British” disease by which they meant soft and cowardly. His friends called
him, sensible and prudent.
Taking a pen in hand he reordered a list of the elements he was
considering--Troop Contingents: 14th Army. Consisting of two reinforced
divisions. The 16th Division from China, and the 48th Division assembled
from veterans. All with experience in China. A total of 100,000 men
Thinking about the success of the Japanese army in China, he
consider the countryside he’d seen in Luzon. It’s perfect for light tanks he
thought. Then he wrote, Equipment: 100 tanks for each Division. Command
cars, Trucks and Light Mobile Field artillery.
The clock on the wall struck the hour of six. Homma looked up from
the table, and sensing a cramp developing in his calf reached down and
unbuckled the top of his boots. He pulled them off and shoved his feet into
slippers. After pouring out hot water from a vacuum bottle into a teapot he
drank tea while pondering the state of mind of the defenders of the
Philippines. It’s inconceivable that anyone would try to defend everywhere
he thought. Ipso facto, MacArthur will hold forces in reserve, and then
meet threats as they develop. Why not he reasoned, try to fool the
American Commander into the thinking I am attacking at several different
places--the plan should be, to put several small forces ashore at widely
separated places, and to try and lure the Americans away from their
strong points.

Unfolding a large-scale map of Luzon he considered his options. Then
on a blank sheet he drew a rough sketch of the island and labeled the main
places settling on Legazpi in the South for one attempted diversion. Then
he wrote ‘2.511 Troops. For a second spot He remembered Appari in the
north, and then selected the beach at Lingayen. He circled both and made a
further allotment of 5,000 troops at both places. The real question is how
difficult will it be to dislodge the defensive lines MacArthur is sure to throw
up between Lingayen and Manila. His field commanders will all have fought
major campaigns in the last War. He circled Lingayen and wrote 48th
Division -- 40,000 men. A moment later the lights in the room flickered
momentarily. Noting this Homma reflected briefly on the possible
significance of having a written number and then shrugged his shoulders.
Then on a third sheet of paper he drew an outline of Mindanao in the Sulu
region. He allocated the remaining elements of the 16th division to the
whole area.
The next morning he presented his outline to his adjutant and the
staff planners of the army general staff. There were sharp questions, but
for the most part general Homma was able to answer them. When he
couldn’t he pointed directly to the intelligence materials where their
answers could be found.
“You will find Major Shimada, in our embassy in Manila a very
competent man,” he said, “I’m sure he can answer any questions that come
up in the detailed planning process. The main thing is to work out with the

Navy the details of how many ships and how much air cover they can
provide for the invasion. If the American submarine force were to attack
our troop transports it will be very difficult to make a complete landing.
That must not be allowed to happen. It’s the Navy’s responsibility, so
coordinate with them. At some point will have to have a joint conference to
go over our attack plan. I suggest we get the groundwork done so we can
have the meeting at the earliest possible time.”
Returning to his office Homma found a note regarding a phone call.
He dialed the number and said “Mushi Mush, this is general Homma is
General Yamashita available?
Yamashita here. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I heard you were back in Tokyo. How did you get back?
We came back on the trans-Siberian Railway and crossed over from
Irkutsk. We were lucky, the Navy’s people were looking at ships and were
caught in Germany when the German invasion started. Word is they left
Germany by submarine for Argentina. I can’t imagine when they will get
back. I guess you heard that Hitler has finally attacked the Russians
through Poland.”
Yes all Japan is rejoicing in the news,’ Homma said, “Can we get
together and talk?”
“Yes by all means. I’ll meet you at the usual place. We can have
dinner.”
The usual place was an ancient 300-year-old Noodle shop in the

Kanda district. Homma had discovered the shop when he was a student
and he introduced many of his fellow officers to the savory delights served
there. As they settle down on the tatami mat Yamashita said,” It’s good to
be back I missed Japanese food the whole time I was in Europe--five
months is much too long to be away from a good bowl of noodles
“Yes I know what you mean. But I hadn’t realized you were gone that
long. What did you do?”
“It was officially a study trip. Once Japan entered the tripartite
treaty with Germany and Italy we decided it was a good time to go and see
all of the latest military developments. I’m not sure the cabinet really
cared about it but as head of the mission I insisted that our people take
advantage of the situation,” Yamashita said.
“Did the Germans cooperate? I imagine there was secret stuff you
weren’t allowed to see.”
Hitler promised us all German secrets would be open to us. That
promise was worthless. I kept asking about Radar but they turned it aside.
At least the army people were enthusiastic. We were lectured to often, and
well. The concept of the Blitzkrieg--rapidly advancing columns of tanks
supported by tactical air strikes is much to our liking. But I would say their
equipment is much more in advance of ours. I think this is the reason for
their success. These attacks by a dive-bomber called the Stuka, in very
close support in Poland were impressive, and from the films they showed
us I could see why they can roll up the enemy so quickly

“What did you think about Hitler?
“When we got to Berlin, we were greeted at a state dinner with the
Army Command and the Navy. Hitler received me privately. He said that
Germany would, as a result of tripartite treaty, bind itself to the Japanese
spirit. I had the impression that somebody in the Foreign Ministry must
have written what he said. He wanted Japan to promise that we would
declare war on Britain and America. He kept insisting that it was our duty.
Then, as if to show his sincerity, he said, all our secrets are open to you. As
I said that had no meaning. Just between you and me, I was not impressed
with him. He looked and acted like a nervous clerk.
Just before we left Europe we were in Italy to see Mussolini--hoping
to expect inspect the Italian army forces. I got a call from Hitler. He wanted
me to hurry back to Berlin. We left immediately. In Berlin, Hitler met with
us and warned us that the Russians might be attacking him soon and that
we should hurry home on the trans-Siberian Railway. From the train we
could see the German build up on the Polish side of Russian border. It was
obvious that they were getting ready to attack Russia.”
“Was there any sign of a Russian attack on their side of the border?”
“Not much, there were some units building that looked like tank
traps but nothing else.”
“What about Moscow, did you stop there on the way home?”
“Briefly. General Georgy Zukhov met us at the train in the morning.
We went to the Kremlin for lunch. We didn’t see Stalin -- no sign of him. At

the train station they wished us a safe journey home--we didn’t mention
the Germans and the Russians didn’t ask about them. The train was very
slow. Eight or nine days later, we got to Irkutsk. There we found out that
Hitler had invaded Russia. I told the members of my mission to be careful
about what they said back home. Everyone understood that a truly modern
war machine is not what we have now. It could take 10 years before ready
for a fight with the United States or Great Britain.”
“But Yamashita-san you yourself said that the Japanese army is the
best in Asia.’
“In Asia, yes. The five months in Europe showed me that we need to
rebuild from the ground up. You’ve been in China. Would you say that
fighting the Chinese is to encounter a first-class fighting force? They’re
little more than an armed rabble. On the other hand, look at what
happened at Nomonhan in Manchuria, the Russian heavy tank forces made
mince meat of one entire Japanese division. Then the High Command
covered it up. What kind of leadership is so dishonest that it can’t admit
our mistakes? Our order of battle is completely antiquated. Our officers
lead the troops with a sword into battle against tanks. It’s ridiculous!”
“That’s true, but . . .”
“I can tell you that one modern Wehrmacht German Division can
defeat five of our Divisions. The close tactical air support alone is a major
difference. Our whole command structure is not up to modern warfare. We
need at least medium tanks. We need a parachute force, new field radio

communications systems--the list goes on and on.”
Yamashita pointed to his head. “I will worry, but it is something that
I won’t be doing any thing about. I am being posted to Manchuria to build a
new Kwantung Army defense headquarters. I suppose I am to prepare for
war against the Russians.”
I’m sorry Yamashita-san. It sounds like your study trip has been
wasted. When you leave?
“Right away. How about you?
“I’m making a plan to invade the Philippines in case we make a
major move to the south. It all started with a request that I evaluate the
intelligence coming in from the south. I looked over the input. The
Philippines was the worst. I was put in touch with Colonel Kimura the
military attache in Hong Kong. I went down there to see him and he
suggested a trip to the Philippines to see conditions on the ground. When I
got to Manila I found the new man on the job in the Embassy. Every other
Japanese there was some kind of a spy. Naval intelligence had their people.
The Army had another set of agents. The foreign office had two Naval
officers,.and three Army lieutenants working an information collection. It
was the official information transfer point. The fellow running things in the
embassy was competent but so new on the job he was scrambling to
organize all the information that had been collected. He took me on two
trips out to see what I could of the American defenses. We went as far as
Lingayen gulf on the north coast of Luzon it has good beaches for a landing.

We drove past the main American army base. It’s a place called Fort
Stotsenberg. There is an airfield there called Clark Field. From what we
could see there were no real defenses to speak of. Apparently there is talk
of bringing in reinforcements from the United States but no evidence
anything is happening. The Air Force has a few antiquated airplanes. No
bombers, a few older P. 40 fighter aircraft but that was all. When we drove
past Clark Field the entire complement of airplanes was parked in a few
rows on the runway. Apparently new fighter aircraft were just being
delivered in crates to be assembled at an airfield called Nichols Field. When
I came back I wrote a report of my findings with some suggestions for an
offensive plan. . . you understand it was work for a captain.” Homma said.
“What happened?”
“I couldn’t believe it. They decided to take me up on my sketch of a
war plan . They instructed me to make a plan to take the Philippines in
only 50 days. I just made preliminary notes this morning and then I am off
with the the staff planners in the morning. Obviously since we can’t walk
on water, the Navy will have to supply the transport and invasion support.
It can take a long time to get a commitment from them.
“What good is the Philippines,’ Yamashita asked, “There isn’t
anything of significant value there.”
“The American fleet could use it to stage operations against our
operations, especially shipping, in the South China Sea, That’s not a
strategic consideration but from a tactical point it’s enough.”

“Japan will eat bitter fruit,” Yamashita said, “I pray to the god of war
every day that we can be spared a war with the Western powers.”
“Unfortunately General Tojo and his cronies don’t agree with us,”
Homma said, “They are moving any of us who have experience in Britain or
the United States overseas. They just want to get us out of the way. I expect
I will be sent to Formosa soon. I’m just keeping my head down -- trying to
keep quiet as long as I can.”
“The Colonels in personnel are combing the lists right now. You can
expect a knock at your door anytime.”
They laughed, but it was not funny.
“This might be the last time we meet before war breaks out
Yamashita-san, let’s have sake and go for a massage. I know a good place
where we can relax for a few hours.”
General Yamashita stayed in a three hundred year old Ryokan, a
small Japanese style inn, off the main street that ran in front of Keio
University. He stayed there many years before when he first came up to
Tokyo to compete in university entrance examinations. Students still
stayed there and he liked the casual atmosphere. The morning after his
night out with General Honma he slept longer than usual, and now at 7:30
AM he asked for a cup of tea. The room attendant brought the tea and then
told him that someone was waiting on a telephone for him. He put on his
robe and went out to the front where the telephone cubicles were lined up
in a narrow hallway

“Mushi mush, Hello. General Yamashita here.”
“This is Captain Nakamura, General Yamashita. Sorry to bother you
but General General Sugiyama’s office called. The palace requested you be
there for a 2 PM meeting with the Imperial presence.”
“Did they say what they wanted?”
“No sir no indication. I asked, but they said you’d find out when you
got there. I’m imagining it maybe in connection with your German trip.”
“Yes Captain Nakamura. Please send the car for me at 10 o’clock.”
Entering the staff car sent to pick a him up, Yamashita gave orders
to be taken to the office of the army general staff. Not long after his arrival
he was sitting in General Sugiyama’s office. At the after the usual
pleasantries he launched the real conversation.
“What does the Palace want?”
“Two things,” Sugiyama said, “Colonel Tsuji has just sent his
intelligence summary from Taiwan. It’s task force 82’s report. You should
read before we go to the palace this afternoon. It makes interesting
reading.”
“The second thing in your trip to Germany. Tenno wants to talk to
you directly. . . ask questions. You know how he is. You know of course that
your written report is being used by certain elements to discredit our
side’s Strike South Plans. Anything you care to offer to put an end to his
Majesty’s hesitation will be appreciated.”
“What’s the gist of what Tsuji says?”

“It’s pretty encouraging. American defenses in the Philippines are
minimal and not well deployed. Hong Kong can be taken in 3-4 days, and
Singapore is poorly defended from the mainland peninsula side. Anyone
coming down from the north could break the back of the British colonial
army there in 30 days. The Dutch in the East Indies are confused and
lightly defended. If they’re well lead, our forces can prevail easily.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll impress upon his Majesty the need to act
before the ABCD forces can build up their defenses.”
“I knew you could be counted on to do the right thing. The main thing
is not to prejudice the throne against us.”
Later, seated at a table in the Imperial Library, General Yamashita
presented Hirohito with a new viewpoint regarding the meaning of the
facts he had gathered on visit to Germany. “Strictly speaking our army is
not presently up to the standards in the West. In my written report I stress
the need for a two-year break in our plans because I believe our intensions
would be to carry the war to the Soviet Union. If we preclude that, I see no
reason we couldn’t strike south in a number of places and be successful.”
Hirohito spoke very slowly. “I am happy to hear you say that. As you
know we have good reason to alleviate the pressure we are under from the
United States. Japan must have petroleum and we must live up to our
destiny to be the liberators of Asia--break off the yoke put upon our Asian
cousins by the British and the other Western powers. This is the noblest of
our tasks.”

General Sugiyama spoke up. “General Yamashita has accepted the
appointment in Manchuria. He will report next week and be in command of
the Kwangtung Army general maneuvers next month.”
Hirohito thanked them and signaled that the audience was over.
On the way back to the Army staff building Sugiyama said, “I
recommend you don’t get too comfortable in Manchuria. The way things
look you could be anywhere south by the end of the year.”
General Yamashita returned to the Inn to pack his bags. The next
day he left for Darien by steamship.

Chapter 23
Japan’s Inland Sea
Japan’s great inland sea shimmering like a jewel in the middle of
hundreds of green islands, provided a perfect anchorage for the formidable
fleet of aircraft carriers assembled to practice for what only thirty officers
aboard the ships knew was a mission of supreme difficulty and importance.
On the Akagi, while the aircraft handlers sweated below decks to fuel and
arm the airplanes in their care, the pilots assembled in the briefing room.
The listened intently as Lt. Commander Fuchida, flight commander,
presented the outline for what he said were to be days of around the clock
training. “Our destination is Kagoshima,” he said, “Sakurajima, the island
off the coast, will b our target. We will practice low level attack on the
targets indicated on your charts. Torpedoes should be set at the lowest
possible settings for shallow water. Squadron leaders assigned to the first
wave will drop indicator flares as target markers. You are to assume that
the targets are ships at anchor, and shore installations.”
A map room model of Sakurajima, with its volcanic peak sticking up
from a coastal plain, was brought in and Fuchida’s aide pointed to its
features with a classroom pointer. Some wag at the back of the room said,
“Where’s the smoke,” in a reference to the volcano’s perpetual vent of
steam and volcanic ash.
“You will have more than smoke up your ass if you don’t take this
seriously,” Fuchida said, “We will be observing radio silence during

training. For obvious, reasons maintaining your position in each flight is a
primary requirement.”
The Akagi weighed anchor on its way to Kagoshima to coordinate
training. As the ship cleared the anchorage and moved into the channel, it
turned into the wind and sped up. It was the first to launch its planes.
From then on the pace picked up. Near combat conditions were simulated
day after day. The pilots complained incessantly about the exercises. “It’s
child’s play,” one said, “fly in, drop down, launch bombs, fly away.” Two
days later when night practice began nobody complained about how easy it
was. Finding a ship at night, even if stationary in the water, was no easy
task. Then, when found, as the pilots flew to the attack, the bright
searchlights from the targeted ships blinded the pilots. Commander
Fuchida sent his aide to a department store in Kagoshima to buy every
kind of dark glasses he could find in an attempt to improve his own night
vision. He finally settled on a brand named “Koga,” and put in an order for
every pilot aboard the Akagi. The precision of their attack, poor at the
start, gradually improved until at the end of the month a break was called.
The heat coupled with the incessant flying left everyone exhausted. Three
days shore leave was granted and the pilots headed for Kagoshima City
from the Akagi. After one night of drinking, the inns and resorts were
strangely quiet over the next two days and nights. Every one was sleeping.
One man was not satisfied. Admiral Yamamoto, usually affable, was
gruff and taciturn. Omi, his orderly, asked what was wrong. “Everything,”

Yamamoto said, “The attacks are too far away from the targets. We should
be closer in.” Kuroshima was also aware that the boss was not happy. He
asked Omi what was wrong. After hearing Omi’s reply he went to see
Yamamoto. “I hear you are not happy with the results of the training,”
Kuroshima said, “If you like we can repeat, and get it right.”
“Yes, we should do it,” Yamamoto said, “The Americans have
expanded their fleet in Hawaii and they will soon be shaking their fist at us.
This is the only chance we might get.”
The frequent takeoffs and landings put a great strain on the
airplanes. Mechanical failures climbed at an alarming rate. The crew
chief’s reports piled up on Kuroshima’s desk. Finally he went to see
Yamamoto. “There is a real problem,” he said, “Our airplanes are wearing
out. What will we do if we can’t get full flights into the air?”
“I’ll see about it,” Yamamoto said, “I agree it’s an intolerable
situation. I’ll talk to the manufacturers about it.” The next morning
Yamamoto called for appointments to see the engineers at Mitsubishi
Aircraft Company. The results of his meetings were not very encouraging.
Upon his return he told Kuroshima, “It is one more nail that we cannot find
for our horse.”
Administrative work was piling in. Captain Matsumoto was working
practically around the clock. One morning at 1 AM, as he sat as his desk,
Yamamoto entered his office and sat down. “Have you got anything sweet,”
he asked, “I’m out of anything any good.”

“Only these chocolates,” Matsumoto said, reaching in desk drawer.
“This stuff is terrible,” Yamamoto said, grinning while he opened a
second piece.”
“What’s the news,” Matsumoto asked.
“The map maneuvers are over,” Yamamoto said, “Kuroshima gave
me this summary. Our side was the blue.”
“This says Red lost 4 battleships, two carriers sunk and one
damaged.
Six cruisers sunk or damaged and 180 aircraft shot down.”
It’s not so good for the Blue,” Yamamoto said, “Two carriers and a lot
of planes lost.”
So, is the General Staff still opposing your plan,” Matsumoto asked.
“They are like pheasants trying to cross a busy road to get to a rice
field on the other side.” Yamamoto said, “The prize is great but the cars are
many. They cannot stop pecking on the wrong side of the road. If they don’t
want my plan and continue their objections I will give it up just retire.”
Admiral Yamamoto ordered the fleet to begin night steaming
exercises. His demand that they practice the close operation of ships in
complete darkness, considered by many, to be the most demanding of all
operations in the Navy, came as a surprise to most of the commanders. The
“no lights” rule placed an extreme burden on the captains of the watch
since collision at sea could have such dire consequences. The ship’s crews
were scoured to find men with good night vision, and red celluloid was

taped over the instrument panels to improve night vision, in the steering
compartments. After nearly a month of practice the Admiral was satisfied
with the fleet’s performance. He was finally free to consider the final plan.
Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto stared down at a directory of personnel
in the Japanese Imperial Navy. The book was opened to a page that
contained a photograph of Commander Genda Minoru, and his naval
biography. As he reviewed the outline of Genda’s career he reflected that
he was looking at the most famous naval aviator and theorist of naval air
power in the world. Everyone in the Navy knew Genda and respected him
as a man and a pilot. It’s in his bloodline, Yamamoto thought. Some men
are born with an ancient family lineage and turn out to be fools. Others like
Genda were born with the genius to be great in their chosen professions.
Yamamoto had been present when Genda argued for whole new way of
using aircraft carriers grouped in a square formation to project air power
forward in a powerful strike force against a fleet of conventional ships. The
brilliance of the idea hit everyone instantly, and from that moment on,
Yamamoto had marked Genda as a key person in the organization of
Japan’s 1st Carrier Division. More important, Yamamoto thought, Genda
had experience of flying in combat conditions over China. Fresh back from
an assignment in London as Naval attaché during failure of Hitler’s assault
on Great Britain, Genda had written a report explaining why the failure to
follow up the evacuation of Dunkirk with an invasion had cost the Germans
victory. Yamamoto agreed with this view even though there were those

who disparaged the report. Genda’s ideas are ten years ahead of everyone
else, Yamamoto thought. He remembered having defended Genda himself
when Genda argued for an offensive role for fighter aircraft at a time when
everyone thought the proper role of fighters was to defend carriers. “Mr.
Genda is right,” he said, “Naturally they should be used in offense.”
The Final Plan was the problem. Much rested on the details.
Yamamoto knew that he was not going to command the attack force. The
Navy bureaucrats would not let him step down from his Command of the
Combined fleet. The problem was that the commander of the 1st Air Fleet,
Admiral Nagumo, was in Yamamoto’s opinion, not up to the job. The attack
plan would be drawn well with Genda and his friends in charge. Maybe, if
the plan were specific enough it wouldn’t matter that Nagumo was not his
choice for command.
The following morning Vice Admiral Kusaka, 1st Air Fleets Chief of
Staff, gathered his staff officers in his cabin on the Akagi. When the last
man had filed in, he said in a calm voice, “In case of War with the United
States, Admiral Yamamoto plans to attack the U.S. Fleet in Pearl Harbor.”
A great silence descended over the cabin.
“The 1st Air Fleet’s mission is to carry out this attack.” The impact of
the statement was riveting. Almost everyone in the room knew of
Yamamoto’s idea. Because it had been a secret no one had spoken openly
about it with anyone else. And there, abruptly, it was like a pristine bowl of
untouched rice, right in the middle of the table. Kusaka reviewed the

outline of the plan, and then quickly assigned them to work as a team. He
stressed the need to work in strict secrecy.
“You will need to combine your resources, and begin serious study of
all the factors air training, communications, intelligence, logistics,
communications, navigation, weather at sea, refueling, route to the target,
everything we will need to plan.”
Then he looked at Genda. “You will lead the team. I want you
personally to concern yourself with, air training, attack methods, and the
route to Hawaii. You will coordinate the work of everyone on the team and
report directly to me.” The mood in the cabin changed instantly when
Genda was charged. The group had a leader that every one respected.
Kusaka looked around the group and said, “You face a big task, one that
will require your very best efforts. Good Luck.”
Kusaka excused himself and walked out of the cabin. Everyone
started talking a once until Genda moved behind the desk and raised his
hand; “It’s time to concentrate. Senior Staff Officer Oishi you can assist me
in addition to dealing with Admiral Nagumo and Vice Admiral Kusaka.
Nothing of our plans goes to them directly. It goes through me. Ono you
tackle communications ship to ship signals enroute, radio silence,
reception of messages from fleet headquarters. Sasabe handles navigation
and weather forecasting. We’re going to need distances to be covered,
schedule of cruise, sea conditions, task force organization. Fuel supply is a
big issue, Sagakami you’ve got your work cut out for you. We’re going to

need fuel capacity of all the ships including the tankers that will be going
with us. The rate of consumption problem is probably the toughest. How
fast can the fleet go? Refueling procedures don’t forget we’ve never done
some of the things we need to do before. We need a practice plan. Everyone
we must work quickly. There is no time to spare. Let’s have a draft plan
done in three days. Then we can quickly fill in any blanks in the plan after
we see the complete story.”
No one objected. The group was comprised of the best the navy had
to offer. Working behind the scenes, Yamamoto had assembled the world’s
most experienced air staff.
Genda considered the route. In fact, the problem lay at the back of his mind
since he first considered Yamamoto’s idea. True to his calling he
considered the problem from several points of view. The first was the
distance. The strike force could not make it all the way to Hawaii and back
without refueling. This argued for a southern approach because the
distance from a starting point in the Marshall Islands was shorter than
any other route and the southern seas could be expected to be calm in case
refueling was seriously considered. The sweep north from there to Hawaii
was problematic because the U.S. Navy practiced southeast of the Hawaiian
chain. He considered two other routes. They varied the angle of attack but
had the same essentially limiting problems the risk of discovery and the
distance. Simplicity argued for a northern route. If the strike force left
from the Inland Sea it would be formed up from the beginning. If total radio

silence were to be observed, it made sense to form up immediately upon
leaving Japan so a rendezvous at sea would not be necessary. But security
was an issue. American submarines patrolling off the coast of Honshu,
Japan’s Main Island, might pick up the ships and track their movements.
Commercial ship traffic leaving Japan’s ports to head for the U.S. and
Canada along the great circle route to North America was another
consideration for which Genda lacked a ready answer. As he sat staring at
a chart of the Hawaiian chain he fingered a sheaf of intelligence reports
from Tokyo. Then he started to read them. An agent in Honolulu reported
that the American patrols seemed weakest to the north of Pearl Harbor.
Genda reached for a protractor and drew a line on the chart to the north
stopping at 42 degrees north latitude. From that point Hawaii was a
thousand miles to the South. A line drawn west put him on the coast of
Hokkaido, Japan’s northern island. Working independently, Sasabe,
Admiral Nagumo’s navigation officer also examined the northern route.
Captain Watanabe on Yamamoto’s staff did the same. The weather proved
to be an important factor. The north pacific high lowered during the late
autumn and winter months. Gray skies and inclement weather were closer
to Hawaii than at any other time. Sea states could be expected to be rough.
After consultations Genda drafted the alternative routes and presented
them to Admiral Kusaka. He listened and then grinned, “I myself think the
northern route is the best. The weather will reduce the chance we will be
discovered. I don’t think you will approach close to Hawaii without being

found out but then you have to press the attack It has to be sudden. Now,
how do you sell this idea to Admiral Nagumo? He’s sure to oppose it.”

Chapter 24
Manila: Caleb Bingham
Caleb Bingham slept nude. It was an old habit from his childhood in
New England when his over anxious mother put so many comforters on his
bed that he nearly suffocated under the pile. He quickly learned to strip
under the covers and then create a tunnel out to the air in the room with
his feet and legs. In the Philippines he luxuriated on silk sheets surrounded
by mosquito netting while a ceiling fan supplied a stream of air to
evaporate the sweat of sleep or his sexual exertions with a variety of
female companions. When the alarm went off he sat up with a start,
reached through an opening in the net to the nightstand, and looked at his
watch. Noting the time he got up and donned his pajama bottoms and put
on a silk robe. Harry Kang will be here tout suite, he thought. I’d better get
some Coffee before he gets here.
Consuelo, a young Filipina, brought in a breakfast tray with a plate of
cut fruit and a silver coffee urn. As she poured coffee Caleb patted her
bottom and said, “These may be my favorite buns in the whole world girl. If
that turns out to be true I think you are in for a promotion.”
“My mother, God rest her soul in peace, would say that you are a
very bad man,” Consuelo said looking up at him with a smile, “Captain
Kang is waiting for you downstairs.”
“Good! Send him up.”
“Hello, you old sea dog you,” Caleb called from the bathroom when

Harry Kang entered the room, “Sit down and pour yourself some coffee.”
“So this is where the chief fornicator of the US government does his
dirty work,” Harry said, “God, it smells like a Shanghai whorehouse in
here.”
“It’s that damned mosquito coil,” Caleb said, “it doesn’t mix with
perfume too well. I’m just getting a quick shave. Have a look at the cable on
sofa there. It came in last night.”
“It’s marked your eyes only. Are you sure I should be reading it?”
“Your eyes are my eyes, old boy. Have a read.”
“Who’s TR?”
“Tony Randall, a pal of mine from school days. He works for
Secretary Hull at the State Department. He’s behind getting me sent out
here.”
“Some pal!” Kang said, “Why don’t you just summarize this thing to
me. I haven’t a clue what it’s talking about.”
“You lazy bastard,” Caleb said, emerging from the bathroom patting
his face to dry the after shave lotion that still glistened on his jaw. “The
whole world is getting ready to blow up in our face, that’s what it’s about.”
“So explain, big man.”
“Negotiations with the Japanese have all but broken down,” Caleb
said, “Ambassador Grew in Tokyo, sent me a cable yesterday saying that
it’s his opinion that nobody in Washington is really taking the Japanese
threat seriously. He thinks that is a big mistake.”

“What happens to all our intelligence reporting? It isn’t like if you
sat at the center reading everything that came in, you couldn’t figure out
that these bastards mean business.”
“All eyes are on Hitler,” Caleb said, “President Roosevelt is obsessed
with keeping Great Britain afloat and with good reason I’d say. If the Brits
collapse we’ve got a very big problem on our hands.”
“So what’s this cable about?”
“Radio intercepts of Japanese diplomatic messages,” Caleb said,
“Washington can read almost everything Tokyo sends to its Embassy.”
“I figured they must be able to do that. What’s going on?”
“The Japanese Embassy has been instructed to stand by for an
important message. Apparently Secretary Hull sent them a proposal for an
accommodation, just a draft really, concerning their withdrawal from Indo-
China and a pull out from China. They haven’t answered yet and this could
be it, or something else Something much bigger.”
“It’s easy to see what the Japanese objective is. If somebody cut off
your oil, what would you do? You’d go looking for it some place. The Dutch
are out of business now that Hitler’s gobbled them up. Their Colony out
here, the Dutch East Indies, is sitting there with oil, and a totally confused
administration.”
“Yes, and its not just oil. It’s rubber, and tin, and gold and God knows
what else attracts the Japs. Who is in the way? The British in Singapore
and little old US of A, sitting here on the flanks of the route to every thing

they covet.” Caleb said, “I’d bet my bottom dollar we’re going to be in a war
before we know it.”
“From what I can see, it doesn’t look like anybody down here
understands that,” Harry said, “I talked to Admiral Hart and he gets the
picture, but his forces are so antiquated I can’t see how he’d be able to hurt
the Japanese much.”
“Well the Army’s no better off. General Douglas MacArthur, that ego
maniac, keeps telling me that the Japanese won’t attack until April early
next year,” Caleb said, “General Marshall is sending in some airplanes but
I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be too little too late.” Mac’s been back in the
American Army for four months now. But he’s still some kind of Napoleon
in a Philippine Field Marshal’s uniform in his mind. It’s pathetic. He looks
like a headwaiter at the Army and Navy club when he puts on that damned
Field Marshals hat he had made.
“You don’t like him very much, do you,” Harry said, “But who else is
there?”
“Nobody, he’s it.” Caleb said folding the sheaf of cables back in his
hand, “Here, take a look at this.”
Harry Kang read, and then reread the page. “This is instructions to
the embassies to burn their code books,” Harry said, “The broadcast is to
be carried in the clear Higashi No Kaze Ame, East Wind Rain. That means a
break off of relations with the United States. West Wind Clear means the US
is okay, I guess. Russia must be the subject of Kita No Kaze Kumori North

Wind Clouds. And is Great Britain the subject of Nishi No Kaze Hare?”
“That’s why I think something big is up,” Caleb said, “They must be
going to send a message that they are breaking off relations with the
United States, Great Britain, and Russia. This message is some nervous
security reflex by some foreign office official to make sure the Embassies
destroy their current codes in the event war breaks out.”
The two men sat staring at each, other pondering the enormity of
what might be coming. Caleb spoke first, “The navy’s combat intelligence
boys at Cavite say the Japanese message traffic is way up. Signals are
coming in from ships and shore stations all over the place. Truk Lagoon in
the Mariannas is hot. Formosa is a hornets nest and Japanese merchant
ship radio traffic is blowing our operators out.”
“Paul Li is thinking of sending us back to Shanghai,” Harry said, “I
can swing in close to Formosa on my way and take a look.”
“Why don’t we give you a special code set up,” Caleb said, “a one time
pad so you can send a message depending on what you see. How quickly
can you get underway?”
“Pretty quick. We’ve got to take on some fuel and provisions but
that’s about it.”
*.*.*
Checking the counter intelligence police records, Jack Clymer found
Velodia in the suspect file. Reading aloud, “Velodia Nasrudin, AKA Raisa
Oudspencki.” Her record was brief and to the point ’Suspect is probably a

Japanese agent. No prior record in intelligence files in Asia.” She’s a prime
candidate for a bait and switch, Clymer thought, I’ll bet we can turn her
with practically no investment. By noon of the following day he had Velodia
in custody. The mail interrogator was fluent in Russian but was unable to
get anything from Velodia who kept protesting her innocence. Jack Clymer
called Lizzie Clark, “Captain Clark, I’ve got a female subject, a Russian
woman who’s been hooking here in town. We have good reason to suspect
that she’s working for the Japanese. I’d like you to come over and have a
talk with her. I think a sympathetic woman might be able to open her up.”
When Capt. Clark arrived at corps of Intelligence Police
headquarters she was given the file and instructed to question Velodia by
whatever means she chose. As she read Clymer’s notes she quickly
understood and sympathized with Velodia’s plight. The early going was
hard. Velodia was clearly terrified and Lizzie decided to have drinks
brought in. It was a long afternoon, but gradually Lizzie made contact with
the frighten woman. As dinnertime approached she realized that Velodia
probably hadn’t eaten all day. Lizzie wrote a note requesting that pirozhki
be bought at the Russian Delicatessen in Manila, and brought in. As they
sat silently eating, Lizzie could sense that Velodia was relaxing. Within
minutes Velodia was confirming the story Lizzie had read in Jack Clymer’s
notes. When Velodia finished her story Lizzie called a break, telling Velodia
that she had to call home. Outside the interrogation room Jack Clymer and
Lizzie conferred. “I don’t know what you think Liz, but if you have the time

I think it might be best if we set you up as her control. She’s been through a
lot and I suspect she’ll work better for a woman. What do you say?”
“I don’t mind, Jack,” Lizzie said, “What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s put the set up in place. Then figure out what misinformation
we want to have her put back on her Japanese control.”
“Good idea she hates the Japanese so much I think the opportunity
to get back at them in some way, however small, will make her pretty
cooperative. Do you have any intention to involve Sakamoto in this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Sakamoto turned her up didn’t he.” Lizzie said.
“Did she say that?”
“No, I just guessed.”
Clymer grinned, “You’re a pretty sharp person, Lizzie. I’ll have to
remember not to underrate you in the future.”
“Just female intuition, Jack,” said Lizzie, “Just female intuition.”
Velodia was sitting quietly in a corner of the room when Lizzie
returned. “Your real name is Raisa, isn’t it,” Lizzie said, “The police have
known about you for sometime. You were arrested by the police at the club
where you work, weren’t you?”
“How do you know,” Velodia said, “It wasn’t serious. They didn’t put
me in jail.”
“Oh, come on Velodia, you were picked up for prostitution selling
yourself to men for sex.”

“I know but they didn’t put me in jail,” Velodia said, “The sergeant
said if I made love to him he would let me go.”
“So, that’s how it was,” Lizzie said, “You know that spying is a much
more serious thing. You could be given a death sentence you know.”
Velodia sat twisting her hands in her lap. “I didn’t tell them
anything. Already they beat me for not doing the job they want.”
“I believe you,” Lizzie said, “The thing is, I believe you but my boss
may not. You’ve got to do something to prove that you are an honest
person.”
As Lizzie told Jack Clymer later, “Velodia took the bait like a
steelhead rising to a red hot fly.” Within days of the time Velodia agreed to
work for Lizzie Clark she was providing her with the names of other girls
that were working for the Japanese. Jack Clymer and Lizzie decided to
keep Richard Sakamoto out of the loop. Clymer told Richard that he was to
do nothing but continue to be Velodia’s friend.
Lizzie Clark was deeply disturbed by Velodia’s story. Her abduction
and brutal treatment at the hands of the Japanese was a frightful thing.
The disturbing thing was, that as a woman, she could imagine being abused
in such a way, with the effect that Lizzie was depressed for days afterward.
Jack Clymer detailed one of his men to have a talk with Lt. James.
He was shocked by the news and agreed to stop seeing Velodia. He longed
to spend more time with her but he was afraid of the consequences and
wanted to avoid a court martial at all costs. Velodia was left behind but not

forgotten.
Velodia immediately told Richard Sakamoto what happened. She had
no idea that he was the source of the information that Jack Clymer acted
upon and she was buoyant over being released with an anti-Japanese
mission to perform.
“I’d say you are in greater danger now than you were before,”
Richard cautioned, “You’ve got to be sure you don’t tell anyone else what
you are doing. If it ever gets back to the Japanese that you are an agent for
the American government they will have you killed.”
“Oh God, Richard,” Velodia said, “I am so scared. You’re right. What
am I going to do?”
“Stay calm and what ever you do,” Richard said, “Don’t talk about it
with anyone.”
At her first meeting with Velodia following her release, Lizzie Clark
gave Velodia the fictitious names of two American air force officers. She
described their physical characteristics and when she had finished Velodia
laughed and said, “A woman like me only thinks of how big they are, down
here,” pointing to her crotch. They both giggled over Velodia’s remarks,
and then Lizzie said, “Both men talked about the new shipment of
airplanes they are getting, 250 fighters and 150 bombers. Can you
remember that? When you tell the story maybe you should say only one of
them told you the number.”
“I can remember. One hundrey feef-tay bomb, two-hundrey feef-tay

fight. That’s good, no?”
“Very good,” Lizzie said, smiling.

Chapter 25
Tokyo: The Imperial Place
Black limousines began arriving at the Imperial Palace west gate at
8:30 a.m. The Palace parking lot was filled by 10 A.M. when the meeting
was scheduled start in the Imperial audience room. The Cabinet officers
were seated in the two front rows of seats, and the Army’s representatives
filled seats on the left, with the Navy’s people sitting on the right. Lower
ranking aides filled in at the rear of the room. A court chamberlain
announced the Emperor, and the frail looking man who ruled Japan
entered the room dressed in formal morning attire with tails. He sat behind
a small table on a raised platform in front of a gold screen and looked
expectantly at the assembly. Then he picked up a pile of documents from
the table and sorted through them. The participants emulated Hirohito and
when he put his pile back on the table and patted it to signify that it was all
in order, they put their documents down.
This was the signal for the set speeches carefully crafted to put the
decisions already made, and approved, into the public record. As the
cabinet ministers rose one by one to deliver their remarks the Emperor sat
motionless at the end of the room. The leaders of Japan were putting the
final stamp of approval on the decision of Japan to go to war over the
issues which divided it from the United States, Britain, and the other
countries bordering on the Pacific. Lip service was paid to the diplomacy
that if it worked would give Japan all she wanted without going to war.

Admiral Yamamoto, seated with his naval colleagues, noticed that no one
pointed out the deceitful nature of his country’s stance vis-‡-vis the United
States. War he decided was a forgone conclusion.
After all the speeches were finished. Hirohito arose and stepped
forward to the table with a small piece of paper instead of leaving as he
usually did, and read a poem written by his grandfather on the eve of the
Russo-Japanese war.
“In as much as all
the seas in all directions
seem twins of one birth,
how often must the winds and
the waves clash in noisiness?”
As everyone else stood in awe, considering the great depths of the
Emperor’s insight, Admiral Yamamoto knew that his leader had just
committed Japan to War with the United States.
The next day a special envoy, Kurusu Saburo, recently returned
ambassador to Germany when the Tripartite Treaty between Japan,
Germany and Italy was signed, was appointed to go Washington as a special
envoy. Kurusu was charged with the delicate task of convincing President
Roosevelt that Japan was serious and would go to war over her demands in
the Pacific if need be. He was also supposed to stiffen the backbone of
Admiral Nomura who might decide he’d lost face at an inopportune
moment, and break off diplomacy before the intended time, just before the

attack on Pearl Harbor. Kurusu had a final audience with Hirohito, then
packed his bags, and flew to Hong Kong where he boarded the Pan
American Clipper that had delayed its departure 48 hrs to accommodate
Ambassador Kurusu at the request of the US State Department.
As soon as Kurusu was on his way, Emperor Hirohito began an
intense month of investigation into the plans of the Army and Navy for the
attack on Pearl Harbor and the strike south into Malaya, Thailand, The
Philippines and the Dutch East Indies. A careful screen was laid over his
activities by the simple expedient of announcing a vacation trip to his
summer palace at Hayama, near Kamakura. From there, he was taken to a
nearby naval airfield and flown to south to the army base at Nummazu
where he attended a 3-day review of the army preparations for the planned
invasions. He astounded the presenters with his detailed knowledge of the
operational plans. At one point in the proceedings he stopped General
Sugiyama in mid-sentence to ask, “What about the rubber plantations in
Malaya, will our troops destroy them in the battle?”
“I don’t know,” Sugiyama said, “There may be some damage, but we
plan to move through the various areas in small units of a single regiment
with one or two tanks. That way we may be able to minimize the damage.”
Then Sugiyama went on assure Hirohito that every care would be taken to
assure that all the assets that Japan coveted would be protected during the
various invasions.
After the Army’s third day of presentations, Hirohito pronounced

himself satisfied, and then departed on a short trip to the deck of the
aircraft carrier Akagi where he dined as Admiral Yamamoto’s guest. The
next day, as Yamamoto had expected, Hirohito asked detailed questions
about the route the task force would take on the way to Hawaii, what the
weather might be like, how the possibility of discovery might affect
subsequent operations, and dozens of minute questions about navy
operations aboard ships. At dinner that evening he presented Admiral
Yamamoto with a pine bough and a poem from the Maneyoshu on a scroll
in his own handwriting. Then they talked about their tastes in poetry
during the remainder of the dinner. Yamamoto retired to his cabin that
night with a feeling that his sovereign understood his reluctance about
going to war.

Chapter 26
Golden Dragon: Preparations to Sail Under False Pretenses
Admiral Thomas C. Hart had been at work in his office at the
Marston building for several hours when a cable marked ‘top secret’
arrived. It had been received only 45 minutes before, was decoded quickly,
and placed in on his desk. The cable had originated from the Chief of Naval
Operations, Admiral Stark, and Admiral Hart read it very carefully before
calling in Captain White his chief of intelligence.
“What do you make of this,” Hart said, “The President is directing us
to send three small chartered private vessels, with a couple of American
officers and a Filipino crew and sail out to sit in front of the Japanese navy
and fly the American flag. They are supposed to look in on the Japanese
and invite them to shoot their boat out of the water. What a Cock-a-Mamie
idea! Sound’s like an attempt to get the Japanese to fire the first shot. What
do you think of that?”
“Sounds like the President is wanting to start a fight so we can get
into it with the Japanese. I don’t think our people are letting the President
know just how vulnerable we are out here. I know he’s always been
impressed with the Navy but this is very strange.”
“Problem is, it’s a direct order,” Hart said, “How fast can we get this
done?”
“I’ll get on it with operations and let you know. The first thing to do
is to find some vessels.”

“Got to do this outside the box,” Hart said, “They don’t want us to
use normal sources of funds. Nobody but a couple of us is to know anything
about this. I guess I’ll have to see Caleb Bingham and wring some money
out of him. Let me know how much you need.”
Captain White immediately thought of Harry Kang and Golden
Dragon. He knew that Harry was in Manila and he sent one of his Ensigns
to try and locate him. Then he got Harry’s hotel on the line and left a
message for him to get in touch. An hour later Harry Kang was on the line,
“What’s up Captain White?” Harry asked.
“Can’t tell you over the phone, can you come to the Marston
Building?”
“Sure. How urgent is it. I’ve got some things to do.”
“It’s priority Harry. I’m sorry. Hot foot it, okay.”
The streets were choked with traffic. It was already nearly six PM
and Harry decided to walk instead of sit in a taxi. By the time he made it to
the Marston building Harry’s shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Damn Captain, it’s hot out there.” Harry said, “I got here as fast as I
could.”
“Well, you didn’t have to run,” White laughed, “You could have taken
an air conditioned taxi.”
“It’s rush hour. I’d be lucky to get here at midnight.”
White looked at his watch, “Yeah, it got late fast today. I didn’t even
notice.”

Harry Kang sat dumbfounded as Captain White explained the
mission. When White finished talking, Harry said, “This is the craziest
thing I’ve ever heard. What hell are we supposed to do if the Japanese just
board us and take over the ship.”
“You’ve got to get a message out as it happens,” White said, “You’ll
use a special code, prearranged signals to communicate.”
“And, if they fire on us what are we supposed to do?”
“Return fire. Just be sure you don’t fire first.”
“I’ll have to talk to the owner,” Harry said, “He’ll likely want a big
bonus payment over what you are paying him on a monthly basis now.”
“We’ll want an official lease signed for this one, Harry,” White said,
“find out how much money you’ll need and give me a budget. I’ve got to
fund this from a secret source of money. The Boss wants complete
deniability. If something screws up, you don’t exist.”
“Understood. I’ll need fuel and supplies,” Harry said
“I’ll arrange for you to get that from Cavite,” White said, “Anything
else.”
“I want some 2 inch galvanized pipe and some dud shells that will fit
inside the pipe and some gun powder,” Harry said, “I’ll send Skip Moran
over to engineering to pick up what he needs.”
“What are they for,” White asked.
“The biggest ordinance we’ve got on board are two fifty caliber
machine guns,” Harry said, “I’m going to fix up some anti-ship rockets.”

“Chinese rocket science,” White said, “How do you shoot the damned
things?”
“Just like fireworks,” Harry said, “If you don’t blow yourself up you
just might be able to blast the hell out of a ship twice your own size.”
“How do you see doing this, Harry,” White asked.
“Motor over to Saigon, then hoist sail and head for the coast off
Haiphong,” Harry said, “When I get close enough to see the whites of their
eyes, excuse the phrase, I’ll raise Old Glory. That should shake ‘em up.
Other than wave my bare ass out in the wind I don’t know any better way.
Do you?”
“Sounds like a plan,” White said, “Is there anything we’ve forgotten.”
“Yes, before I forget, there is one thing,” Harry said, “I just talked to
Caleb Bingham, the political officer in the administration. He wants me to
go up to Taiwan and have a look around. Which is priority? This thing
first?”
“This is first, absolutely. I’ll have Admiral Hart talk to him,” White
said, “Bingham’s probably going to pay for this new adventure of yours, but
he doesn’t know it yet. How soon do you think you can get back to me?”
“I’ll call you first thing in the morning,” Harry said, “Who is going to
do the operations thing with me?”
“I’ll do it. Harry; let’s try to get this show on the road in two days.
We don’t want news of this thing leaking out.”
Harry Kang headed for the Paul Li’s new hotel. He found Paul on the

ground floor sitting in the newly remodeled but not yet open coffee shop,
with engineering drawings and architectural renderings spread over
several tables. “Harry Kang! Good to see you,” Paul said, “How do you like
our new shop?”
“Nice,” Harry said, “You look like the Emperor of drafting Paul.”
“I haven’t had so much fun since we built the Hong Kong hotel,
Harry. Have a seat, Lucio Tan the builder will be along soon, I’d like you to
meet him.”
“Paul, there are a couple of things we should talk about,” Harry said,
“The Navy wants to charter the ship for a special mission. It’s a chance to
make money on top of what they are already paying us on a monthly
basis.”
“Where do they want you to go,” Paul asked.
“I can’t tell you that,” Harry said, “but it’s very risky. I’d say we
could risk loosing the ship so that’s worth a lot of money.”
“How long?”
“Not over a month or two. I’d say three at the outside. The important
thing of course is that, I might not get back.”
“It must be important,” Paul said, “If you’re willing to put your head on the line
I’ll risk Golden Dragon.”
“How much?”
“Ninety-five-thousand a month, with a prorate for extra days three
months payment in advance. Will they go for that?”

“It’s a lot of money Paul, but I think they will. They want to get this
underway in a hurry.”
“Good, then let’s make it one-hundred-ten-thousand per month.
Same deal.”
“It’s OK with me,” Harry said, “What about the boy?.I think Li Song
would just as soon go with me.”
“Either way is okay, just as long as he understand the dangers. He’s
old enough to make up his own mind. Ah, here’s Lucio.”
After being introduced to Lucio Tan, and commenting on how nice
the renderings of the hotel renovations were, Harry Kang went directly to
Golden Dragon by water taxi. Skip Moran and Li Song were inspecting the
engine when he ducked into the engine room door. “Skip, I’ve got to see you
in my cabin,” Harry said, “Something important has come up.” Find Li Song
and have him come to my cabin in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be right there Captain,” Skip said, “I’ll just get out of these
greasy duds.”
When Skip got to Harry’s cabin he found him standing over his desk
looking at charts of the South China Sea and Indo-China, a calipers in his
hand. “Paul Li’s chartering the ship to the Navy for a special assignment.
It’s top secret and we’ve got to leave as soon as we get fuel and supplies. No
telling how long this trip will be so I think we should take on some fuel in
drums on deck just to make sure we have enough for a long trip.”
“Where are we going and why,” Skip asked.

“Saigon and then north towards Haiphong and Hanoi. We are going
to fly the American flag off the coast and hope the Japanese take a pot shot
at us. Then tell the world we’ve been attacked.”
“I won’t ask you the obvious question,” Skip said, “But what are we
supposed to do after we get our asses shot off.”
“Return fire, if it looks like the sensible thing to do,” Harry said, “On
the other hand we might just have to surrender.”
“Skip laughed, “That’s not in the orders is it?”
Harry Kang tossed a small sketch at Skip; “I’d like us to have as
many of these things mounted on deck as we can make before leaving
Manila. I figure we can get the parts and powder over at the Engineering
Shop at Cavite. The Navy’s going to supply us with food and fuel. They
might as well give us some more ordinance.
“Ah, the old rocket trick,” Skip said, “It’s been a long time since we
used one of these. When shall we get underway?”
“I’ve got to go over to the Marston building to see Captain White,”
Harry said, “Why don’t you wait for two hours, then head over there and
tie up at the fuel dock. I’ll have White call over there so you can get fueling
underway. Do you want to keep Li Song around?”
“Sure, good idea. The boy’s got some natural mechanical aptitude
and he seems interested enough to hang around and ask a million
questions.”
“Good, I’ll ask him to stay,” Harry said, “By the way while you are

rounding things up at Cavite, have the canvas shop sew you up the biggest
Japanese flag you can get them to make. We might need it.”
Skip was scribbling a list of things to get done. When he’d added the
last item he threw the pencil back on the desk, “I’ve got it. Do you want us
to come back on this mooring as soon as we’re done.”
“No, let’s stay at Cavite. I don’t know how fast I can clear operations.
Captain White is going to do the thing with me directly. Is there anything
else we need? Oh, I’ve just thought of something. Why don’t you pick up
some charts for the Dutch East Indies and all the way down to Australia
while you’re over there. No telling what might happen.”
“How about ammunition for the fifties,” Skip said, “We can use some
light machine guns to put on our shore boats.”
“Good idea,” Harry said, “Get anything you see over there that you
think we can use. Better to be on the safe side.”
Harry Kang rolled up the charts, called on the radio for a shore boat,
and talked with Li Song before leaving Golden Dragon. He was not
surprised when he volunteered to go with the ship. Harry praised him by
saying that he’d never seen any person take to sea as well as he had. Then
he asked him to stick with Skip Moran and do what ever he asked him to
do. Just before leaving the ship he went to the wheelhouse and found Otani-
san-san listening to the radio and writing down the odd message from
Japanese ships in the area. “Most of them are in code, Captain,” Otani-san-
san said, “But a few are in Japanese Morse Commercial code. There’s a lot

of traffic from Taiwan.”
“Keep listening, Otani-san,” Harry said, “You are our ears on this
thing. Things are obviously heating up. Can you listen to Tokyo on short
wave and see what’s happening up there.”
“As soon as the sun goes down Tokyo will probably be available. The
atmospherics are pretty bad right now. I guess the ionosphere must be in a
blocking phase.”
“Ok! We’ll be shoving off soon for Cavite to take on fuel and supplies.
I’m going ashore and I’ll meet you over there.”
Captain White’s office was a madhouse. Adjutants and junior officers
kept running in and out with urgent requests and paperwork. White was
clearly a much harried man and he shut the door and gave instructions
that he was not to be interrupted while he talked to Captain Kang. “What
gives, Harry,” White said, “Did your owner come up with a number?”
“He want one-hundred-ten thousand a month, with a prorate for
extra days,” Harry said, “He came close to turning us down but when I said
I was putting my own ass on the line he couldn’t resist saying he’d put the
ship up right under my rear end. I guess you know we Chinese are great
gamblers.”
“Hell Harry, that old scoundrel’s paid for that ship a hundred times
over,” White said, “I wish I had all his money. And I’m glad I’m not paying
for this out of my budget. Caleb Bingham’s got religion; he must have gotten
orders from Washington to cooperate with us on this thing. Admiral Hart

says you can swing north when you are done with this operation and have
a look at traffic on a line down from the Taiwan ports. Now let’s get down to
the details.”
“Sir, before we do that, can you call Cavite and tell them Golden Dragon is
coming in for fuel, supplies, and some ordinance. Skip Moran is my guy on
this. Be sure and let them know it’s an emergency.”
“Will do.”

Chapter 27
Golden Dragon’s Secret Mission
In the South China Sea Golden Dragon plodded along from Manila at
reduced speed over a calm oily looking sea under a leaden sky. The main
engines had been throttle back to conserve fuel and now as she approached
the Indo-Chinese coast, Captain Kang had posted his best lookouts to watch
for any shipping. Checking the calendar, Harry noted in the ships log that
noon of December 6th had passed by without being able to get a position fix
with a sextant because the edge of the sun and the horizon were obscured
by the hazy sky. Suddenly there was a cry from the mast top. “Ships on the
Horizon.” Ships on the Horizon.”
Harry grabbed his binoculars and stepped forward to the window of
the Bridge. As he focused he could see black shapes in the distance. “Holy
smoke,” Harry said as he found the focus and began counting. By the time
he had finished he’d counted 30 ships moving in a southerly direction. He
called Skip to come on deck. “Take a look out there, I counted thirty
vessels.”
“Damn! That’s a big convoy. I count twenty-nine but I could have
missed one. They haven’t been at sea very long. Most of them are putting
out very black smoke that means their engines aren’t warmed up yet.
Where do you think they’re headed.”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’d better radio Admiral Hart in
Manila. He’ll want to know about this. Keep an eye out. See if you can

confirm that they are Japanese ships.”
Harry sat down and wrote: THIRTY SHIP CONVOY SIGHTED OFF
INDO-CHINA. APROXIMATE LOCATION TWO NAUTICAL MILES OFF
CANRANH BAY ON A SOUTHERLY COURSE.
“Harry they’re Japanese all right, I just saw a rising sun painted on
the side of a freighter. Harry added: CONFIRMED JAPANESE SHIPS to his
message and headed for the ships radio. On his way out the door he said,
“Follow that convoy but not very closely. They may have a screen of
destroyers, or more likely submarines protecting the fleet. Take down the
Stars and Stripes. And have the boys break out that big Japanese flag.
Don’t fly it but let’s have it ready in case we get challenged. Then have the
crew get ready to fight. Load the weapons and be ready for action,
Remember we can’t shoot first. Give the order not to shoot until one of us
gives the order. Wake Otani-san up. He’s had enough sleep by now.”.
Harry sent the message two times to make sure it got through. Then
he returned to the bridge. “Hi! Otani-san my boy. While you were sleeping
we had a surprise.”
“Yes, Skip told me all about it. Those ships must be carrying troop
and mechanized weapons most likely tanks and field artillery. They
speeded up a little but they aren’t going very fast.”
“Why don’t you go down and bring a radio up here on the bridge. If
you listen you might be able to hear the Captain’s talking in the clear get a
chance to hear where they’re going.”

After listening with earphone for a while Otani-san said,” They’re
talking all right. One guy said it’s too bad they weren’t able to stop in
Saigon so they could all go to a whorehouse.
“Anything about where they’re going?”
Otani-san held up one hand to silence Harry, then held the
earphones tightly to his head. “Some one else said, Don’t worry, when they
get to Thailand they can go to a whore house there.”
“That’s it! That’s where they’re headed. No need to follow them much
longer. I think we should drop back and stay out of trouble. We don’t need
to get shot at. We already know the Japanese are going on the warpath.
Paul will be relieved. We’re being paid a lot of money and so far we haven’t
lost the ship.”
Harry had another more pressing agenda. He desperately wanted to
see Veronique and make sure she was okay.
“Let’s make for the Mekong and tie up in Saigon. We can check on the
Moitessiers and find out what’s happened to the rubber business.”
They entered the Mekong Delta in the early morning hours. The
navigation lights were still working in the channel and they had no trouble
on the way to Saigon. They turned the boat in wide place and tied the
Golden Dragon with it’s bow pointing down stream towards the sea next to
the same riverside drinking spot where they’d been tied up before. Harry
walked to the bar and called Veronique. The phone rang for a long time
before the maid answered. Harry asked for Veronique and waited on the

line. “Hello! Veronique, It’s Harry. No. I’m at the Golden Dragon we’re tied
up along the river in Saigon. It’s in the same place we were tied up last
time. Are you okay?”.Veronique was sobbing.
“It’s going to be alright sweetheart. Can you come to pick me up?”
“Oh Harry I’ve been so scared. Everything has gone terribly wrong.
Papa’s in the army and we haven’t hear anything from him for a month.
Francou had a fight with his company directors and is driving here tonight.
He should be here in a few hours. I’ll be right over to pick you up.” The line
went dead. Harry put the phone back on the hook and went back to the
ship. He straightened his cabin and had a crewman sweep it out and wipe
down the floor. The three friends had a talk waiting for Veronique to arrive.
Harry said, “There’s no sign of the Japanese but that doesn’t mean
they aren’t here. Let’s cover the name boards and take down all of our
flags. If the Japanese show up Otani-san you act like the Captain. Think up
a story to tell them. Tell them that we’re here to pick up a load of rubber for
Admiral Yamamoto. You can show the copy of the last manifest and let
them see the Japanese navy’s chop on the order. If you have any real
trouble, and there are not too many of them have the crew ready to
shanghai them. Make them disappear.”
“Like permanently Harry,” Skip asked. We can put them down below
and then dump them out to sea, and let the Sharks take care of them.”
Otani-san punched Skip on the arm. “You must have been watching
too many Fu Manchu movies Skip. We’ll think of some more humane

treatment.”
Skip grabbed Otani-san from behind and pinned his arms to his
sides. “See Harry you let some Japanese grow up in Hawaii and from then
on he’s a member of the “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Humans.”
Harry laughed but his mind was on Veronique. “Let it go guys. We’re
into some serious shit here.”
Veronique came running to the gangplank, on to the deck, and burst
into the Bridge. She fell into Harry’s arms and said, “Oh Harry I thought I’d
never see you again. It’s been awful not knowing if you’re okay. And my
Papa, is he still alive? And, now Francou is in trouble. What am I going to
do?”
“Don’t worry sweetheart. It’s not what you are going to do. It’s what
we are going to do from now on. I am not going to leave you behind ever
again.”
“Oh, Harry you love you so much. You are so big, brave and strong.”
“Never mind. What’s the situation? Are the Japanese here in
Saigon?”
“Yes, but not many of them. There’s an officer. I don’t know what’s
his rank. He’s got 30 or 40 soldiers with him. The soldier’s look thin and
how do you say in english Scrany? They took over a house next to the
police station they cook white rice and eat fish morning and night. They
drink a lot and go to the house of loose women. They don’t pay for anything
they just take it. The Officer talks to Inspector Vigo every day and they go

on short trips out in the country. Inspector Vigo recommended I stay home
during day and go to Papa’s office late at night. There is nothing to do
there. We sold out all our goods a month ago. Everyone wants oil to cook
with but we can’t get any to sell. The suppliers in Malaya don’t ship palm
oil here any more. Olive oil sold out last year.
“I don’t want to leave the ship. Can you stay here tonight?”
“No, Harry. I want to stay but what if Francou comes home and
doesn’t find me. He will go crazy with worry.”
“OK, give me a moment. I’ll get my things and come with you.” Harry
went to his cabin, put a loaded Colt 45 automatic in his bag with his tooth
brush and a change of clothes. He told Skip and Otani-san where he was
going and went home with Veronique.
The house was dark. Veronique had closed all the shutters and put
black silk cloth over the windows on the inside to make the house look
abandoned. Her driver drove around to the back of the house where he
parked the car. They went in through the back door. Once inside the maid
had several small oil lamps burning to welcome them home. She put her
hands together in a Buddhist greeting and bowed to Harry. “Is the Master
hungry?”
Harry asked Veronique if she had eaten dinner.
“No, but I am too excited to eat. Let’s have some fruit and we can eat
breakfast with Francou when he gets here.”
“Good idea. I’d like to lie down for a while. It’s been a long day and

night. Later I’ll tell you what we saw on the way down here from the coast
off Hanoi.”
They lay facing each other on Veronique’s bed. She stroked his face
and said, “I missed you so much Harry. I saw your face in my dreams every
night.”
“It’s been the same with me sweetheart. You are much thinner and I
worry that you haven’t had enough food to eat.”
I am all right. When I worry I am not hungry. I will be better now
that you are here. You’ll see. I will be so fat and ugly maybe you won’t love
me anymore. Now tell me about what you saw.”
Harry told her about finding and following the Japanese invasion
fleet. He explained that he was convinced that Japan was preparing to
invade Thailand or Malaya, probably the latter. “I think they intend to go in
the back door at Singapore by driving down the road from Malaya some
place and defeat the British. This means war Veronique. The Japanese
need oil from the Dutch East Indies and only Britain and the United States
can stop them.”
“That’s terrible Harry. What will you do. I remember you telling me
that you would have to go into the American Navy and fight for your
country if there was a war.”
“It’s too early to tell darling. They might not want me. I am older now
and haven’t been around Navy fighting ships for a long time. There is one
other thing I am going to tell you. It is a secret and you must never tell

anyone else. You must promise me.”
“Of course Harry. I will always be loyal to you. I will not talk even I
am tortured or threaten with my death. I am like my mother was in that.”
Harry told her his life story over several hours. They finally fell
asleep in each other’s arms and slept in the cocoon of their love for each
other.
Francou came home late and went to bed exhausted. When they
woke up in the morning, the maid brought tea and warm rolls for
breakfast. “Your brother, Francou is still sleeping Madame. Should I wake
him up?”
“No, Madelaine. Let’s have him sleep. I’ll look in on him in a little
while.”
“After the maid left. Harry asked, “Is that her real name?
“No, her family name’s Ha. Thanh Ha. But when she came here she
asked me to give her a French name. I gave her a list of possible names I
liked and she chose Madelaine. I don’t think it suits her very well I like her
real name better. But it really doesn’t matter.”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Veronique went
to the door and opened it. “Francou. Why did you knock? You never do
that.
Than Ha said you had a man in your room. I didn’t want to interrupt
anything. I guessed it might be Captain Kang but wasn’t sure?”
Harry said, “Well you guessed right. How are you Francou?”

“Francou bounded across the room and kissed Harry on both cheeks.
“Mon Dieu, am I glad to see you Harry. Have you any word of
Francis?”
“No sorry. I guess you heard from Inspector Vigot that I took him to
Hong Kong. He was supposed to work for me and my partner until he
became established, and found his way around. But he left without saying
goodbye and I haven’t heard from him since.
“Merde! I was sure when he left I would never hear from him again. I
am determined to forget him one day, and the next day I know I cannot.
Now I am decided to leave this godforsaken country forever. But I don’t
have anywhere to go. Besides I cannot leave my sister behind. And there is
my Papa in the Army. Nobody knows whether he is dead or alive.
“How about General Martin. It seems like he will know. Maybe I can
help you to find out.”
“How will you do it? You don’t even speak French.”
“The three of us can sail up to Haiphong and go to Hanoi. The train
must still be running. We can call the army and find out where General
Martin is. Your father is probably with him. Then when we find out we can
decide what to do. There is no reason to stay here. The business is dying or
already dead. I am not ever leaving Veronique again and we have plenty of
room on board, and work for both you and your father.”
Shortly before noon Veronique and Francou had made arrangements
to close the office and leave the house. She gave the house to Thanh Ha

with enough money to last for a couple of years. The driver accepted the
car as a gift and drove them to the Golden Dragon. It was a very emotional
departure but finally they boarded the Ship and set off down the Mekong
for what looked like the last time. By the time Harry had gotten Francou
and Veronique settled Otani-san had finished decoding a message from
Admiral Hart.
TO: H K MV Gee Dog One: Manila, O200 hrs
Good work. I assume that you are still
Up and running. All available information here
Is that Japan will attack the US and GB simultaneously.
It could come any time anywhere from Hawaii to
The Philippines. It is clear to me that Singapore is doomed
Churchill is sending a fleet. He promises Aircraft Carriers
And Battleships. The Carrier Ark Royal is not capable
of making Singapore in present condition.
Tom Philips who I know well, is in command of a fleet of two
Battleships on way to Singapore around the Cape of Good Hope.
If the Japanese bomb them from the air they will not stay afloat.
I see a need for you here to continue your work for the
Asiatic fleet. We are badly out gunned here. With
Proper intelligence we may give the Japanese a real fight.
Thanks for all you have done. Keep me informed.
TCH

Harry sat pondering the situation. He clearly was between a rock
and a hard place. He had promised to take Veronique and Francou to Hanoi
to find their father Jean Moitessier, but now here was Admiral Hart all but
ordering him back to Manila at flank speed to defend his country that was
about to be embroiled in all out war. He decided to consult Otani-san and
Skip before deciding what to do. He stood up to go and look for them when
Skip came through the door. “Hi Harry, I saw you come back with
Veronique and a man that I assumed was her brother. What’s up? Oh, and
before I forget, just before I went across the road to buy some newspapers
Otani-san told me to tell you he figured that we would be running all night
so he went to get some shut eye.”
“ Here Skip read this.”
“Holy mother of suffering Jesus this is terrible. What are we going to
do?
I don’t know. My problem is I promised to take Veronique and
Fancou to Hanoi to find out what’s happened to their father they haven’t
had any word from him since he was called back in the Army by General
Martin.”
“There’s something in the paper I bought about him. I can’t read
French but look here’s his name.”
Harry read the headline. “Martin Mort! He’s dead Skip. I hope to hell
Jean Moitessier wasn’t involved in some scrape with him.

I’ve got to get Francou to read this for us. He’s in having breakfast in
the ward room.”
Francou read the newspaper and sat looking like he’d been hit in the
head with a brick. “Papa was with General Martin. A Japanese Officer came
to General Martin’s office. There was an argument and he shot General
Martin and Papa. They are both dead.”
Harry and Skip were speechless. Finally Francou said, “How can I
tell Veronique. She will be hysterical when she gets this news.”
Harry responded. “Don’t say anything to her! I’ll take her the
newspaper and let her read the news herself. She’s a very brave woman.
She will handle this in her own way. I will be there to help. We are leaving
Saigon in a few minutes. Skip will take command until I am free, or until
Otani-san wakes up. War is expected to break out any time between Japan
and America. We have orders to go to Manila as soon as possible. You can
help us. We have only three officers and we need your help. We will teach
you everything you need to know.” As Harry left he heard Skip asking
Francou if he had any experience with diesel engines.

Chapter 28
The Imperial Order For War
Admiral Yamamoto walked briskly between the two long lines of
marines standing at attention to the bow of the great battleship Mutsu. The
ships giant 16-inch guns towered over his head. He turned to watch as the
gun crews greased the elevating mechanism and adjusted the controls. The
new guns intrigued the Admiral. They had been part of his plan for this
new class of battleships when he was in Washington as naval attach. Now,
he thought, it was one of those moments so precious in one’s career where
you can see the results of a plan long in the making finally executed. It was
a delicious moment. It had its own special blend of satisfactions. Mutsu was
Japan’s most modern battleship and a worthy opponent for any other ship
in the world except an aircraft carrier. Only the day before he had moved
his flag temporarily aboard the ship from Mutsu and was still getting used
to the changes which had been made to improve the accommodations in
this newer ship.
As he stood surveying the scene, his steward approached. Ichiki
saluted and handed him a dispatch, “Message from Commander Kusaka,
sir.”
“Thank you. Look back at the ship, Ichiki-san. You won’t see such a
sight very often in your career. It’s the best battle ship ever made. Of
course soon we’ll have Yamato and Mushsashi with 18” guns, but until then
this is the best,” he said proudly. Then the two men gazed at the barrel

ends of the guns capable of throwing a 16-inch projectile out of sight over
the horizon. Then Admiral Yamamoto turned his attention to the message.
“So, Kusaka and Onishi want to visit me together. It’s not hard to imagine
what they want. Signal them to come as quickly as they can.”
Kusaka Ryunosuke and Onishi Takajiro, chiefs of staff of the First
and Eleventh Air Fleets respectively, were exceptional men. Each man had
a mind of his own. They were toadies to no one and although they were
respectful towards Admiral Yamamoto they had unbending principles.
Kusaka was particularly stiff about maintaining distance from his
superiors and fierce in defending his ideas. The two men did not approve of
the plan to attack America at Pearl Harbor. In the early morning hours
they had completed a written objection to the plan and had requested an
audience with the Admiral to present it. Onishi had done most of the work
with Kusaka acting as the devil’s advocate. “The Commander in Chief won’t
like this,” Kusaka warned, “We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t throw us out on our
ears even before he reads it.”
“We won’t wait for him to read it,” Onishi said, “I’m just going to forge
ahead and put it to him that we don’t have any faith in the plan. I want you
to back me up quickly with all the good solid reasons for our objection just
the way we’ve written them down.”
“I agree that’s the way it should go. You state the case. I’ll back it
up.”
When the two men arrived on Mutsu, Admiral Yamamoto was in his

cabin. He invited the two men in and offered them beer. They politely
refused his offer. “Ah, I can see you have come on serious business,” he
said, “What’s this all about?”
As planned, Onishi handed Yamamoto their memorial and then
started talking. Kusaka was quick to back up each of the points Onishi
made. Finally, Yamamoto laughed and said, “Stop! Stop! It’s enough. I get
your point. Each of the things you say, taken by itself is enough to sink the
plan.”
“You’ll reconsider then,” Onishi said.
“If you can answer one question satisfactorily, yes. When we strike
south to take over the territories we intend to attack, including the Dutch
East Indies, are you willing to have Tokyo and Osaka bombed by a US Fleet
from Hawaii?”
The two men sat in stunned silence considering the question and the
obvious debacle that Yamamoto had described. Their silence hung in the
air like a dark cloud.
“Picture it,” Yamamoto continued, “We have the oil we need and we
look back and see Tokyo, Yokohama, and Osaka burned to the ground. If
this is acceptable to you, then I say yes, scrap the plan.”
Onishi and Kusaka looked at each other with a sign of resignation.
Then Yamamoto said, “Still, the fact is that as long as I am Commander in
Chief we will go ahead with this raid on Hawaii. I am sure that there are
many problems and difficult things, but I am asking you to proceed on the

assumption that there will be an attack. Please don’t think of it as a
gamble. This is not a card game.
When the two men went to the gangplank on their way off the ship
Yamamoto went with them. He put his hands on both of their shoulders
and asked for their allegiance, “This has become an article of faith with me.
I promise to provide anything which you may need if you promise to carry
on without fail.”
Kusaka, stunned by the old man’s personal request, could feel tears
well up in his eyes. Looking away he said, “I’ll do everything I can to bring
it off.”
As their launch pulled away from the Mutsu, Kusaka said, “We put
forth our best arguments but he swept it all away with one stroke. The old
man had us there. That’s the mark of a great commander.”
Onishi could not talk he was so moved by the experience. It was the
most emotional thing that had happened in an already remarkable career.
Until the day he died, he thought, I will always treasure this day.
The two fleets under Yamamoto’s command, their training for war
completed, were assembled in the Inland Sea. The purpose of the get
together was to acquaint all the commanding officers with the plan for the
attack, and to have map maneuvers aboard Nagato. For five days opposing
teams maneuvered against each other in mock warfare. The atmosphere
was tense in the wardroom where sweating officers issued orders to the
men moving the ships and planes about on a large map of the Hawaiian

chain. Assuming that the attack was a surprise the defending team playing
the role of the American fleet was hard pressed to stay afloat. Without the
element of surprise, the outcome was basically a draw that could go either
way. One worrisome problem was the long trip back to Japan, during which
it was assumed the US Fleet would be pursuing. The retreating attack force
could easily be wiped out. Successive replays were better. Yamamoto
watched the proceedings without comment. On the last day he pronounced
himself satisfied. Then, he went back to his quarters to drink and play
cards.
Within a few days a message went out to Admiral Yamamoto from
the Imperial Military Headquarters on the grounds of the Imperial Palace.
After the message had been received and decoded by the fleet message
center it was delivered to Yamamoto to read and acknowledge. It contained
a summons for him to report to the palace to hear Hirohito’s formal
Imperial Command.
After some consideration he asked Captain Watanabe to accompany
him on the long train journey north and they readied themselves to go to
Tokyo. Dressed in civilian clothes they caught the train in the early
evening, had dinner in the dining car, and then retired to a sleeping
compartment in the first class section. They played several hands of flower
cards before turning in. Sleep did not come easily to either man. The order
they were about to get weighed heavily on both their minds. The following
morning when the train pulled into Tokyo station a staff car was waiting to

take them to the navy building where Yamamoto changed into a dress
uniform.
Upon his return to the Navy Ministry, Yamamoto found the staff
busy examining, and then signing off on a myriad of last minute changes to
the agreements with the Army. These concerned the many joint activities
for the invasion of Malaya, The Philippines, and the strike southward into
the Dutch East Indies. The complexities were mind boggling. The section
chiefs assigned to the various areas of combat were carrying most of the
responsibility. Still, maintaining a balanced view of all that was being
contemplated was difficult. Admiral Yamamoto was naturally focused on
the strike against American forces in Hawaii. Being called on to consider
anything else was a major annoyance. Somehow, with Captain Watanabe’s
help, he got through the rest of the day.
The next morning Captain Watanabe and staff saw off Yamamoto to
the palace from the Navy Minister’s office. As his car approached the
Imperial palace grounds from the south west Yamamoto looked across the
moat at the massive gray stone blocks rising out of the water in a perfect
curve that was a tribute to the stone masons who built the wall in the 16th
century. The edges of the granite block had been so carefully ground that
no mortar was needed between them. A white heron stood on the bridge
looking down into the water. As the car passed, the heron took flight along
the wall and lifted over it out of sight. The symbol did not escape
Yamamoto’s notice. It would be easier to fly away like the heron Yamamoto

thought, at least no one would notice if I could just disappear as easily.
Two white guard posts that were perched on the upper edges of the
stone ramparts marked the route in through the western gate. The eves of
their tile and green copper roofs turned skyward at their corners. The gate
guards saluted as car passed through to the inner sanctum. The low lying
weathered wood buildings where the imperial family lived lay to the left in
front of the Fukiage Gardens. On the right, the business offices had a
somber quality. Inside a bevy of industrious clerks working for the Imperial
Household Ministry accounted for the hundred million-dollar fortune of the
richest man in Japan.
The car stopped in front of the office of the Imperial aides-de-camp.
Yamamoto stepped out of the car and saluted a naval aide and followed him
along a path that led back through a maze of paths to a more open park.
They walked past the sprawling banquet hall and the Privy Council
chambers to the entrance of the formal building where great occasions of
state were formalized. They entered a quiet entrance hall whose walls were
covered with muted gold screens with a coffered ceiling. Admiral
Yamamoto walked down a long straight corridor to where the Emperor’s
chief aide-de-camp was waiting. He saluted and then untied his formal
samurai sword and then, as was the custom, passed it to the aide. No man
could be armed in the presence of the Imperial being.
Admiral Yamamoto was no stranger to the magnificent imperial
audience chamber, the Phoenix hall. His own investiture as Chief of the

Combined Fleet had taken place here, and he had been in the imperial
presence many times before on important state occasions. It would, he
thought, be better to have been in a less formal place because he wanted to
impress the Emperor with the seriousness of what was being undertaken.
Then his thoughts returned to the present, focusing on the impending
order he was about to receive. Never mind, he thought the die has been
cast. It is too late for cautionary statements.
Admiral Yamamoto approached the small table and bowed. He stood
at attention waiting with his head down and suddenly Hirohito’s small
reedy voice reached out to him and asked him to come forward and be
comfortable. The small middle aged ruler of Japan stood there dressed in a
simple uniform of rumpled brown cotton. As Yamamoto approached the
table he asked about his health and his family before shifting to a series of
questions about the morale and readiness of the combined fleet. The
questions were meant to be conversational but to the Admiral the seemed
stiff and totally programmed.
Then, one of the Imperial aides reminded the monarch of his next
appointment. Hirohito nodded. Then, in a much lower voice he said, “In
commanding our forces into action we entrust you to the command of the
Combined Fleet. The task facing the Combined Fleet is of utmost
importance, and the whole fate of the nation will depend on the outcome of
your endeavor. I command you to do your best in the battle to come.”
Then he looked down at the table and began to read out loud from a

document, the Imperial Order charging Yamamoto with command of the
fleet and responsibility for the attack on Pearl Harbor. Then as suddenly as
he had begun reading, his voice stopped. Yamamoto read the reply that had
been drafted for him by the Navy Chief of Staff Ugaki the day before. His
final words were, “I reverently accept the imperial commission and assure
his imperial majesty that the officers and men of the Combined Fleet will do
their duty.” When Yamamoto finished the Emperor nodded, got up, and
then left the room.
The ritual nature of the exchange annoyed Yamamoto, but there was
more to it than that. As he stepped back and turned to leave the building he
suddenly realized that Hirohito was himself personally committed to war,
and probably had been so for a long time. This makes the peace
negotiations going on in Washington a sham. They do not want them to
come to a peaceful conclusion. As the realization came over him Yamamoto
felt a great weight descend on him. He squared his shoulders and his face
set in a hard stare. The grim set of his jaw did not escape the attention of
Vice Admiral Samejima, Hirohito’s naval aide, who accompanied him back
to his waiting car.
A locked black dispatch case was already in the car when Yamamoto
entered the vehicle and sat down. An aide passed him his sword and a
small cloth purse containing the key to the dispatch case. As the car pulled
away from the palace Yamamoto unlocked the case to find the official
version of the order which his officers had written on board the Nagato and

sent forward to Tokyo. He hurriedly examined the document looking for
changes and concluded that only minor revisions in the wording had been
made. At least they had the guts to leave the main thrust of our mission
alone, Yamamoto thought as he closed and locked the dispatch case.
That evening Yamamoto made a sudden appearance at his home in
Tokyo. He spoke individually with each of his four children and then sat
down to dinner with them and his estranged wife Reiko. He had not visited
home for many months and he was surprised by the changes in his
children. They were growing up and he was not in any way a party to the
process. Following dinner he talked with Reiko in a very serious
conversation.
“You and I have been through a lot together. Now that we are living
apart I feel compelled by events to speak of things we have never talked
about. Our country will soon be at war. The situation is very serious and I
doubt that you will ever see me again. In the event that I do not return I
have made provision for you and the family. The navy will contact you with
information. I have asked Horie-san to look out for you. Please follow Horie-
san’s advice.”
“The situation must be serious for you to talk like this,” Reiko said, “I
pray to the Gods everyday for your safety. I will redouble my efforts.”
“Yes, it is very serious. I would like to stay here tonight if you don’t
mind.”
“Your futon is laid every night in the hope that you will return,”

Reiko said, “Tonight I will see to it myself.”
“No need for that,” Yamamoto said, “Let the maid do it. Let’s have a
drink.”
“I’d like that, Reiko said getting up to call a servant, “What would
you like?
“Nihon-Shu from home.”
“Sake, yes. We just received several bottles from Hori-san. You must
be tired. Why don’t you have a bath and then we can have a drink.”
Relaxing in a hot bath, Yamamoto recalled his earliest days with
Reiko and considered his marriage from the beginning. Reiko’s
temperament was always a question. She was much too remote and calm
for Yamamoto’s taste. She had been the choice of his parents when they
married, and at the time Yamamoto considered that it wasn’t really
important how much he liked her since his career would keep him away
from home for extended periods of time. As things turned out it was not a
bad marriage just an unfortunate choice a couple whose basic natures were
totally unsuited for each other.
Later as they sat sipping the pungent unfiltered Sake served at room
temperature Reiko was the first to speak, “I know that I have not been the
kind of wife you would have preferred” she said.
“It’s not important now.”
“But I want you to know that I appreciate how much you have tried
to be a good husband.”

“You have been a good mother and that is the most important thing,”
Yamamoto said, “The children are in the best of hands. What more can a
father want.”
Reiko’s eyes filled with tears. “We shall all miss you.”
“Never mind, I am content in my mind. I can accept whatever the
future will bring.”
The next morning he left the house before dawn and checked in at
the Navy Ministry before the changing of the guard. He changed into
uniform and prepared for the day by reading through a stack of documents
that Captain Watanabe had left for him. After several hours he managed to
read through the stack as the office of the Ministry began to be populated
with the arrival of the staff. At 7 AM Watanabe knocked and entered the
office. “Good Morning Admiral. How did your night go.”
“Good,” Yamamoto responded gruffly, “What does our day look like?”
“Your good-bye party starts at nine this morning at the Navy
Minister’s official residence. His inner circle and the Emperor’s people will
attend. Our guests include your active duty navy friends, and Mr. Horie has
been approved to attend.”
“That’s good. Horie I mean.”
“Yes, it must have caused quite a stir when we requested he be
allowed to attend, but in the end they had to give in.”
“Those Baka and their Stupid rules!”
After the party you were scheduled to leave by plane, but as you

requested, I changed to a 3 o’clock limited express train. Horie-San will
meet the train at Yokohama to say goodbye personally. I am sorry it’s such
a short stop, a minute or two at best.”
Shortly before 9 AM they walked to a waiting staff car and drove to
the party. Entering by a secret back gate normally reserved for the Navy
Minister; the car drove through the surrounding trees along a gravel road
to the back of the house. The yard was crowded with salon cars and
plainclothes security officers. They went in a side door and up a small flight
of stairs to an anteroom where both men donned their swords and
straightened their clothes before going out to the main hall. The usual
protocol, customary at such parties, had been laid aside at Yamamoto’s
request. Everyone knew each other and it seemed pointless to stand in a
formal reception line.
The Minister leaned close to Yamamoto and said, “The wine is a gift
of the Emperor. He must be impressed by your plan.”
“I doubt it. He’s probably just guilty that he’s sending the fleet such a
long way through cold waters to engage the enemy,” Yamamoto said.
After the wine was poured and the glasses were raised, the Minister
made a toast. “To the success of Commander in Chief Yamamoto’s mission!
Good Luck!”
After Yamamoto’s brief remarks, the Emperor’s aide Vice Admiral
Samejima approached him and said, “I noticed that you were not looking
happy after the meeting yesterday. What was bothering you.”

“Formal meetings like that are not my style.” Yamamoto said, “There
was much I wanted to say and no chance to say it.”
Samejima nodded. “Yes, I understand. Things are headed towards a
sorry pass I am afraid. But, there is nothing to be done.”
“I realized yesterday that the Emperor is resolved to go to war.
Otherwise he would have talked to me more directly. The pressures of
having all the proponents of war around the throne must have been too
powerful to resist.”
“Here comes Prince Takamatsu. He’s the biggest hawk around. He’s
constantly whispering in Tenno’s ear, Samejima said.
Yamamoto bowed as Prince Takamatsu’s addressed him, “Ah,
Admiral Yamamoto, you have been given a great honor. You’ll be the one
leading Japan into a glorious war that will once and for all time remove the
western influence from Asia. Congratulations.”
“Let’s hope the US Navy agrees with you,” Yamamoto said.
“Surely you are more confident than that, Takamatsu responded.
“The Americans will not be the easy pushovers many people expect,”
Yamamoto said, “Their resources are limitless and once they are aroused
they will be a formidable foe. With any luck we may buy some valuable
time.”
“Yes, once we have secured the Dutch East Indies our life will be
easier on the supply front,” Takamatsu said, “I myself have confidence that
you will destroy America’s Pacific Fleet.”

“The Combined Fleet will try to meet your expectations.”
“I am sure that you will, Takamatsu said, “I am going to go in for
lunch now, but before I do I want to speak to your Minister.”
The two men bowed and Prince Takamatsu walked away, Yamamoto
went over to talk to his retired friend Admiral Horie. “Thank you for
inviting me Yamamoto-san,” Horie said, “I know that the rest of the navy
does not welcome me here, but it does me great honor to be at your
departure party.”
“These Baka,” Yamamoto said in a low voice, “There is not one among
them that could fill your shoes. In the old days we might have shown them
a thing or two.”
“Too late for that,” Horie said, “But tell me, how are you feeling.”
“It’s a numbing experience to be with people who do not have enough
sense to be afraid for what they are contemplating. That fool Takamatsu
thinks we’re setting off on a holy crusade instead of a fool’s mission.”
“This war fever has been building for a long time. I had hoped cooler
heads would prevail, but when I was cashiered out of the Navy in “33 I
thought then that we probably never had a chance,” Horie said.
“That’s true. Yesterday when I came back from the Palace, I realized
that the Emperor is now part of the war party. May even have been for a
long time. They pretend they are negotiating with the United States but
nothing will come of it now. It’s too late.”
As the two men walked toward the dining room, Horie said, “You’d

better go and take your place at the head of the table. We can talk at
Yokohama.”
When lunch was over the whole party debarked in a caravan of cars
to Tokyo station. Once there, Horie excused himself and took an early train
to Yokohama so as to be on the platform when the Limited Express pulled
in. Admiral Yamamoto spoke individually with everyone, thanking them
for coming, and then said a few words to the waiting press corps before
boarding the viewing platform on the last car of the train.
Upon his arrival in Yokohama, Horie purchased a platform ticket and
went to track number 1 to await the arrival of the Limited Express. He
knew that if the train was on time there would only be a minute or two to
see and talk with his friend. By the time his train arrived at Yokohama
Station Yamamoto was in a deepening depression. As the two men faced
each other across the platform railing he said gruffly, “Horie I have the
feeling that this is the last time we will be seeing each other. Take care of
yourself and please give advice to Reiko.” Horie was so moved he could
only nod his assent and look away. Then for a few moments they reached
across the space between them and touched hands. Then they bowed in a
final formal gesture and Yamamoto was gone. Horie had never felt so
miserable in his entire life.
As Yamamoto settled into his seat he realized that he had a terrible
headache. He blinked his eyes, took a deep breath and pondered the future.
It was then that that he realized that he had barely been breathing the

whole day. As he leaned back he accepted that he would never come home
alive. Part of him was already dead. His spirit had been broken.

Colonel Angier Trout’s office was a small cubicle that had once been a
storage closet in the White House. This space had been pressed into service
when General George C. Marshall had seconded Colonel Trout to help the
President. He remembered General Marshall telling him that he was to do
anything the President asked him and to let General Marshall know what
he’d been up to on a regular basis.
For weeks following his arrival at the White House he had nothing to
do, just wait, “cooling his heels,” and then suddenly, he was ushered into
the President’s office for a talk with the most powerful man in Washington.
It was now weeks later and his memory of the meeting was hardly clear. He
remembered the important parts of what he’d been told he was expected to
do but the President’s far ranging conversation about things that hadn’t
had much to do with what he was supposed to do on the job, was a complete
jumble. A day later when he went to see General Marshall he had
formulated a report that he was sure Marshall would find acceptable but in
his own mind there was considerable confusion. “There are things I need to
get done without going through official Army channels,” the President had
said, “And you are going to be my right hand to see that we get results I
need to have happen.” When he finally got in to see Marshall, He said, “I
reported to the President ...”
“He talked your leg off,” Marshall interjected, “ When he got around
to the point what did he want?”
“I am supposed to be his right arm in communicating with you and

the rest of the Army about intelligence matters,” Trout responded. I
haven’t the slightest idea what this means but I suppose I’ll find out as I go
along.”
“I don’t have to tell you that the most important thing is to keep
confidences chest tight,” Marshall said, I expect you’ll do just fine on the
job. Let me know if there is anything I need to do to help. In the meantime
go over and have a talk with Colonel Bratton. He’ll fill you in on the stuff
G-2 has been working on. “
The days and nights that followed were intense. After a brief interval
of several days he was given a top-secret clearance. From that point on he
was enveloped by a tide of information about the code breaking activities of
the army and the navy. A continuous round of briefings and informal
meetings with the managers and personnel of the signals intelligence
community led him to the realization of how much money and enormous
effort was going into finding out what the potential enemy’s plans and
intentions were.
The real shock was yet to come. One of the White House Secretaries
knocked on his door with a message; “Colonel Bratton is expected any time
now. He wants to meet with you unless you are busy.”
When Colonel Rufus Bratton arrived he was carrying a leather
briefcase with a chain around the handle. The other end of the chain led to
a handcuff around his left wrist. “I’m delivering a top secret document to
the President,” Bratton said. “I’d like to have you come along.”

“Sure, but why me?” Trout said, as he finished running a brush over
his shoes and pressed down his hair, “What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you while we wait,” Bratton said, “We’ll probably have time
before we see the man. He’s seldom available when I get here.”
They arrived at the President’s outer office and went from there into
a visitor’s room to wait. As they settled into their chairs Bratton sat the
brief case on his knees and unlocked the clasp and the detached the chain.
He looked at Col. Trout and grinned, “Don’t like this damned thing much
but at least with this chain there’s not much chance I’ll leave it in the men’s
room.”
“Must be important stuff,” Trout said.
“Keys to the kingdom. Contains decoded intercepts from messages
sent from Tokyo to the Jap Ambassador here in Washington. These came in
late last night.”
“I should have guessed as much from all the security,” Trout said,
“What’s going on?”
“It’s all hush-hush. We’re in top level negotiations with Japan right
now. A special envoy from Tokyo name’s Kurusu has just arrived here to
help the Japanese Ambassador Admiral Nomura carry on the talks.
Important instructions from Tokyo have been coming in by radio over the
last two days in the Jap’s diplomatic code. We call the decoded intercepts
“MAGIC” to distinguish it from less important traffic.
“What’s your role in this,” Trout asked.

“I’m on the army side of managing traffic. There’s so much to decode
and handle that the Navy and the Army divide the work. Today’s the
Army’s day. That’s why I’m here to deliver the latest decrypts to the old
man.”
Bratton extracted a sealed envelope from the brief case and made a
note on the covering routing slip. “Got to note everything that happens to
this information,” he said, “Security has to be perfect on this stuff since we
don’t want the Japs to get wind of what we’re able to do. They don’t have
any idea we’ve built a machine that can crack their code.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Trout said, “I heard it wasn’t possible.”
“Yeah, well our counter intelligence guys put out a story to that
effect and spread it around to make the Japanese think we’d given up. Our
biggest problem now is that we haven’t got people who understand enough
Japanese to do the translating as fast as we need.”
“What are the Japanese going to do?”
“It looks like war. The problem is that we don’t know where they will
attack first. They appear to be most interested in expanding to the south.
The Dutch East Indies oil fields could be crucial to their ability to sustain
their army and navy. The point is that they could open up on the Dutch any
time. Britain would come into the war at that point and I’m sure we would
join the battle.”
The President’s secretary came to the door and said, “The President
will see you now, gentlemen.”

The President was talking on the phone as they approached his desk.
He motioned them to sit down and continued his conversation.
“I know that Frank, you say Marshall has sent a message to
everyone in the Far East telling them we expect the Japanese to make a
move. I know that. The problem is we don’t know where. Everyone seems
to think it will be south Singapore and the Philippines. They’d be fools to do
that. Let me get back to you Col. Bratton is here with another one of his
packages. I’ll call you back when I’ve seen what it’s about.”
Turning to Trout and Bratton he said, “Gentlemen, what have you
got for me?
“Another intercept, Mr. President,” Bratton said, “It came in during
the night and we just finished translating the Japanese.”
He passed the envelope across the desk and leaned back.
The President read through the stack of pages and then leaned back
and mounted a cigarette in his long holder. Col. Bratton was quickly on his
feet with a lighter.
“Thank you Colonel. It sounds to me like the Japanese are planning
to go to War. What do you make of this latest message?”
“I’d say the same thing, sir. The minute hostilities breakout their
consulates and embassy buildings will be taken over by their adversaries
and their codes will be compromised. By destroying them in advance they
keep their codes safe for at least a little while.”
“Ok, I’ll have to see what should be done about this. Colonel Bratton

your people should be sure to stay on top of this message thing. Colonel
Trout I’d like you to stay here for a while. I have something for you to do in
a hurry.”
Bratton departed after placing the secret materials back in his
dispatch case and attaching the chain to his wrist. The President placed a
call to Secretary of State, Cordell Hull.
“Cordell, I just looked at the latest Japanese message to their
embassy. It consists of instructions to destroy all the code machines and
secret materials. I don’t know what you think but to me this means they
are getting ready to open hostilities.”
Angier Trout sat impassively in his chair waiting for the President to
complete his conversation. When the President completed his call he
looked up at him and said, “I want General Marshall to be informed and
then get back to me. We’ve got to be ready in case war breaks out. Find
General Marshall and make sure he gets the message.”
Back in his cubical Angier Trout called General Marshall’s office and
discovered that the General was on a trip to North Carolina where he was
observing an important series of army field maneuvers along the Peedee
River. He asked the General’s aide to try and get in touch with Marshall by
telephone, then ask him to call Trout at the White House. The prospect of
traveling to find General Marshall in the field did not appeal to him but he
called his own apartment in Georgetown and asked that his small travel
bag be packed in case he had to suddenly leave town. Then, he settled down

to wait and consider the situation.
Deciding to make himself a summary of the situation he pulled a
yellow legal pad out of his drawer so as to be able to list the things he
considered important. Before writing he examined a map of Asia and
compared the important places and tried to remember a trip to Asia he’d
taken years before. As a young officer he’d accompanied his father,
Jefferson Trout, senior Senator from Virginia, on a trip around Asia. Japan
was still in the process of recovering from the great Earthquake of 1923
when they arrived in Yokohama on the steamship “Pearl of the Orient.”
Japan was a paradox. It had all the trappings of being a growing industrial
power but it’s people lived in cramped and crowded villages all over the
country. Even the cities were more like collections of small places pushed
together to make an urban landscape. The major avenues of downtown
Tokyo were impressive but on the whole the country Japan seemed like a
comic opera from Gilbert and Sullivan to the young officer. He knew that
Japan was a much more modern country now, nearly two decades later.
China left a much stronger impression on him. Shanghai’s Bund was
an impressive testimony to the power of western businesses that
dominated the skyline. The place was an industrial powerhouse in Asia and
the center of much of China’s trade.
During the day, Lt. Trout and his father spent mornings in briefings
by political officers and economic experts from the American Consulate in
Shanghai. At that time China was being ruled by a succession of regional

warlords who incessantly fought for power in the countryside. The British
patrolled the Yangtse River, and managed the Chinese Customs office.
Nights in Shanghai had been the entertainment highlight of the
whole Journey. A young American military attaché and British friends
from the European settlement had led his forays into the sin pots of
Shanghai. He was made aware of the immense fortunes being amassed by
the Taipan’s of foreign trading firms in Shanghai. Best of all he benefited
from the largess laid on him every night when they visited high-class
whorehouses in the British Settlement. In fact, Angier Trout’s sexual
preferences were established in the arms of a Chinese beauty whose
charms were astonishing to the young officer.
British ruled Hong Kong was the next stop on their Asian itinerary.
He and his father were entertained almost everyday at the Hong Kong
Jockey Club. His father was a racing enthusiast and after a leisurely
colonial lunch he played the ponies until it was time to retire to their hotel
and rest up for the formal dinners which followed every night. By the time
their stay was over both Trout senior and Angier were glad to be getting
back on a ship bound for Manila in the Philippines.
After a night in the Manila Hotel’s celebrity suite Angier and Trout
Sr. spent the next day in transit to the highlands of Baguio where most of
the American’s in the Philippines Administration spent long weekends
during the heat of summer. They relaxed at poolside most mornings, and
after a lengthy lunch with various members of the local American

community, napped until dinnertime. By the end of the week Senator Trout
felt himself well acquainted with the problems in the Philippines and ready
to press on to Singapore before heading on the long trek back across the
Pacific. Returning to Manila they attended a party at the Presidential
Palace that was put on especially in their honor. It was the first time they
had any contact with upper class Filipinos and the Senator was not
impressed. To Angier’s amusement he kept referring to them as “little
brown people,”. The women were all dressed in the formal attire of the
culture; long silk dresses with crisply starched white jackets with butterfly
sleeves. Angier enjoyed the dancing which followed dinner and made the
rounds of all the unattached young women. In truth he was fascinated with
the silvery laughter and the flash of their teeth when he managed some
amusing remark or another. He imagined that he could find a suitable
companion in the colony and considered trying to find a posting to the
islands when he got back to Washington.
Singapore, a bastion of British power in Asia, was their last stop
before heading home. They stayed in the Raffles Hotel. He remembered the
Long Bar where a powerful tropical drink, the Singapore Sling was served.
Other than that he had no memories of any significance regarding their
short time in that place. Angier concluded that Singapore was basically a
blank as far as he was concerned.
Bratton had mentioned petroleum. From his recent reading of War
Department documents on the situation in Asia he did understand Japan’s

dilemma over securing a source of petroleum. The US embargo on aviation
gasoline was bad enough, but now that all shipments of petroleum had been
stopped by presidential order, Japan was in a very difficult position.
Movement of troops and naval vessels in the direction of Indo China
seemed to presage a strike towards the oil fields in the Dutch East Indies
but the existence of the U.S. Asiatic Fleet in the Philippines looked to be a
deterrent against an all out attack. The big unknown was how deep the
Japanese military was in terms of troops and material. Numbers of ships?
Planes? The intelligence reports Angier Trout had seen were not very
revealing of any answers to these basic questions. He guessed that maybe
the Navy had better information of the Japanese fleet but he had so far
seen nothing to confirm this.
The experience of ten years of staff assignments in the War
Department did not make him confident in the outcome of any war the
country might get in. The American Army was in pitiful shape. Years of
starvation budgets had so weakened the service that even Mexico’s sad
little army looked like a formidable force from the banks of the Potomac.
He understood General Marshall’s desire to increase the size of the Army
and the all out procurement drive to get the equipment, arms and
ammunition a large army would need. A reluctant Congress had finally
loosened the purse strings slightly but how long would it take for America
to be ready for war?
He decided to Call Colonel Bratton and ask him to tell General

Marshall that he should call him in the White House should Bratton hear
from Marshall or his Aide. Bratton sounded tense on the phone when he
finally got through to him. “Jesus, things are heating up around here.
There is a long message coming in now from Bainbridge. It contains the
text of a long message to Admiral Nomura and his sidekick Kurusu. The
translators are working on it now. I’ve got a call in for Marshall. I guess
between the two of us we should be able to get a hold of him.”
“I assume the President will want to see General Marshall as soon as
he returns to Washington. See if you can find out when he expects to
return.”
“Right’o.”
Bratton quickly called back on a secure line and told him that
General Marshall had been in contact with the President. “There’s one
thing you can help me with tonight,” he added, The Office of Naval
Intelligence is planning a break-in tonight to try and steal the Jap’s Fleet
Codes. They’ve been planning it for weeks, I am supposed to go along as the
Army representative but I’m tied up here with these decrypts. Can you
take my place with the break-in team? You won’t have to do much except
observe.”
“I don’t mind helping out, but I don’t know a thing about this kind of
thing. Who do I contact?”
The guy’s name over at ONI is a Captain Bradbury. He works for the
Deputy Commander and will be leading the break-in team. Wait 5 minutes

and then call him. In the meantime I’ll let him know you’ll be standing in
for me.”
In the late afternoon Col. Angier Trout reported to the garage under
the Naval Building and was shown to a room where the break-in team had
assembled. Captain Bradbury was briefing the team. “The site is the
Japanese Embassy’s sub office in the Alban Building on the corner of
Massachusetts and Wisconsin Avenues, fifth floor. They occupy two
adjoining apartments here on this blueprint, he said, pointing to two front
corner apartments. The Japanese Naval Attache and military spy chief is a
Captain Yamaguchi. He lives in the apartment and works out of the same
place. Tonight our boss is throwing a dinner party for Yamaguchi and his
staff. There should only be a duty clerk or two still in Yamaguchi’s
apartment. Our plan calls for an electrical breakdown caused by us. The
lights will flicker in the whole building and then go out completely in the
two apartments. Two of our people dressed in electrician’s clothes with
toolboxes will try to obtain entry to check and repair the lights. We’re
looking for radio transmitters and any code gear that might be kept in the
office. We suspect that Yamaguchi may have the stuff locked up in his
office.”
“What do the rest of us do while the break-in is going on?”
“If anyone in the office refuses us entry, we call for reinforcements.
Two of us in police uniforms will flash badges and force entry if need be. If
there’s armed resistance we’ll handcuff the bastards and then let them go

after we’ve fixed the lights. Colonel Trout and I will be outside parked in
front of the building. If anyone from the party leaves to come back to the
offices we’ll delay them outside the building. Obviously the whole point is to
get in and out in as short a time as possible. We’ve arranged to have our
own man on the front desk phone tonight. We expect the occupants of the
apartment to call down and ask for help. Then Bud, you and Hank go up,
and gain entrance. You’ll have to conduct your search by flashlight since
the whole floor will be electrically dead.”
“Will the phones still work if the power’s off?”
“Yes, we’ve put the phone on a backup battery system. That
shouldn’t be a problem.”
At seven that night Capt. Bradbury and Col. Trout sat outside the
building when a group of Japanese men came out of the apartment and
climbed into a car. “That’s them heading to Captain Zacharias’s dinner,”
said Bradbury.
“Yeah! There is still a light on in the front on the fifth floor.”
“Must be the duty clerks. Let’s wait a few minutes and go in.”
As they walked in the lights in the lobby flickered for a moment and
then went out. Fifteen seconds later they went to the front desk and
identified themselves.
“It’s pretty quiet around here most nights,” the man on the desk
said.
“I just hope the guy on duty up there calls you instead of someone in

the Embassy.”
‘The outgoing call will go through the switchboard here. I’ll just call
the party and ask for Captain Zacharias if that happens. He will put
someone on from this office, and suggest they call, and ask me for help.
That way I can send our guys up.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Trout said.
Latter, at the debriefing they were a relaxed and relieved group.
Their plan had worked ridiculously easily and the investigating team
managed to penetrate all of the rooms in the place. The disappointing thing
was that they did not find what they were looking for. There were no radio
transmitters to be found and the safes in the inner office were not large
enough to contain code machines. It was clear the Japanese Embassy had
to be the site of all transmissions to Japan.
Colonel Angier Trout’s night was not over. As he was leaving the
navy building a call came in asking him to report to the White House
immediately. Just past midnight he reported in. The President’s personal
steward appeared. “The President will see you now Colonel Trout.
Apparently it’s a matter of some urgency. He wants you to go up to his
bedroom. I’ll show you the way.”
Colonel Trout found President Roosevelt sitting up in bed with piles
of paper scattered all around. “Good to see you, Trout. I’ve got a job for you.
By the way I’ve cleared this with General Marshal so I don’t want you to
worry about the chain of command. I want you to go out to Manila and see

what’s going on there. Get there the fastest way you know how. This
situation with the Japanese is going to blow up. I need to know what
General MacArthur and his boys are doing. You’re to be my eyes and ears
out there. So skeedaddle. Get on your horse and go. General Marshal says
there’s a B-17 leaving for Manila and he’s going to save you a seat”

Chapter 29
The Final Plan For The Attack On Pearl Harbor
Admiral Yamamoto sat on rice straw mats in his cabin. He was
wearing a loincloth because he had just woken up from a restless sleep
when he decided to review the attack plan. In spite of all of their careful
preparations he could not quite relax. The fleet would not sail from Tankan
Bay for Hawaii until November 26th. This was based on the staff
calculations of sailing direction and time. The fleet must arrive north of the
Hawaiian chain on the night of the 8th of December Japanese time in order
to launch planes early in the morning. It would be Sunday in Hawaii and
depending on their luck complete surprise looked possible. After a short
discussion it was decided to keep Japanese time on all ships clocks to avoid
confusion. The first elements to depart Japan would be I-Class Submarines.
Twenty-seven in all would depart on November 20th in order to take up
positions around Hawaii 3 weeks later. The big subs had nearly a 13,000-
mile range at 14 Knots but depending on sea conditions could be delayed.
Never mind. They are not crucial to the success of the mission. They will
probably be on station in plenty of time. He decided to review his plan.
His own notes on the mission were sewn by hand into a book with
black thread by his orderly. He casually inspected the pages until he came
to group of notes on security. Months ago he’d written a note to change
communication codes and the call letters of all the ships in the fleet. He had
forgotten to give the order that would have to go to the Navy’s high

command in Tokyo. Sitting on the floor at his low writing desk he took up a
brush and wrote a note to Admiral Nagano requesting the changes be made
as soon as possible. When his note was ready and he had completed a clean
copy he called the Duty Officer to his quarters and asked that it be encoded
and sent to the Navy Ministry.
In the week that followed the Navy Ministry acted quickly to put into
effect what in reality was a giant effort, the circulation of the thousands of
copies of the instructions for changing the codes along with the new books
of unit and vessel codes for all of the navy. A top secret date and time was
established for the simultaneous adoption of the new codes and
designations of senders and recipients. This monumental task could not be
carried out completely with many isolated units not kept up to date.
Finally, Yamamoto received notification of the change of call letters that
went into effect at midnight on 1 December. Code changes were scheduled
to follow shortly. One more detail of the plan was in place.
*.*.*
On a cool clear night in Honolulu two gray Plymouth sedans were
parked one behind the other along the road from Waikiki Beach to Diamond
head. Two men sat under a palm tree on the grassy slip between the road
and the beach. They lit cigarettes and looked out at the calm sea off
Waikiki. Special Agent Shivers of the FBI spoke first. “You know I am
taking a terrible chance with this wiretap on the Japanese Consulate. Do
you think the risks are equal to the rewards?”

Captain Irving Mayfield of Naval Intelligence responded, “Yes, I do.
We know that there may be a very clever spy ring working out of the
Consulate. We’re having a lot of trouble identifying who it is. So far we’ve
intercepted seven suspicious calls from a single office. My guess is that
someone inside the Consulate is sending information on the disposition of
our ships in Pearl Harbor back to Tokyo. I am just guessing but I’d bet
anything the man is a naval officer in Japanese intelligence posing as a low-
level clerk.
I know you are right about this. It’s just that we don’t have enough
agents to be able to track everyone from the Consulate. The Jap military
attaché hasn’t been out of the building in weeks. Still, you know I am
breaking the law big-time, if we get caught it could mean a serious prison
sentence for all of us.”
“I know, since we put in our own taps, I’ve hardly thought about
anything else.”
The two men sat silently for a while and then Agent Shivers said,
“I’ve got a real problem. Someone in the Telephone Company discovered
one of my taps in our own office building and reported it to one of his
bosses. The District Intelligence Office got on my case about it this morning.
I went to the Telephone Company and read them the riot act about the
breach of security but I don’t know if I scared them enough. If this gets
back to Washington the ball game is over.”
Mayfield’s teeth were put suddenly on edge. “Damn, that’s bad news.

We can only sit here and wonder if this might get out of hand. With the
situation being the way it is the first place anyone is going to look is the
Japanese Consulate. If something happens and the information gets to the
press we are going to be fried. What do you think we should do?”
“I hate to lift the phone wiretaps but that may be the only way we
can protect ourselves.”
“Let’s wait a day or two before we decide. I’ll talk to our intelligence
analyst in the morning and see what he says.”
Mayfield arranged to talk to Shivers the following day, and then
drove directly to the building that housed Joe Rochefort and his staff. After
checking, in he sat down in front of Rochefort’s desk. Rochefort handed
him the daily intelligence summary without looking up from a report he
was reading. “Irv, we haven’t had much luck since the code changed. It
looks like the Japanese movements to the south are continuing but we
haven’t located a single carrier for weeks.”
“What could be going on?
“Your guess is as good as mine. What brings you in here at this time
of night?
“Trouble. Someone at the Telephone Company found one of the FBI’s
phone taps and Agent Shivers is running scared. I know he wants to end
the taps of the Japanese Consulate.”
“How much good stuff have we been getting from there?”
“It averages 50 to 60 calls a day has for the last year or so. Most of it

is routine, but recently there have been some strange calls to Tokyo. It may
be someone is operating an intelligence game out of the place. My problem
is we’re running more of the taps than the FBI does so their problems could
cause us big problems if the Phone Company tips off the Japanese. “ I don’t
know what the hell to do!”
“At the rate things are moving I’d say it won’t be long before the war
starts. When the shooting gets going nobody is going to care. On the other
hand I’d hate for you to get cashiered out of the navy if somebody tries to
get a legal case against you.”
On the way back to his office Mayfield decided to end the wiretaps
the next day. The following morning he talked to the technician in charge
and gave the order to take them out. The rest of his day was an
administrative nightmare. He finally called Agent Shiver’s office to tell him
he wouldn’t be able to meet him that night.
The Third Section of the Naval Ministry, charged with the gathering
and interpretation of intelligence for the Japanese Navy, one of the most
professional organizations in the world, it prided itself on being able to
deliver the goods to Japan’s naval commanders. For a long time it had
operated an intelligence gathering operation in the United States and over
the years had established a large network of full and part-time agents on
both coasts of the country, and in Hawaii. Now that the Pacific Fleet at
Pearl Harbor was an intended target the espionage activities of the Third
Section’s people in Hawaii became critical to success.

In September of the previous year the resident Counsel General
Kiichi Gunji boarded a ship for Japan, leaving Okada his vice consul in
charge. Okuda Otojiro was a suave confident operator who quickly moved
into position. Now with both hands on the levers of power he quickly
expanded the production of useful information to be forwarded to the
Foreign Ministry in Tokyo and then handed on to Naval Intelligence.
For months, in addition to his duties as Vice Consul, Okuda had been
sending reports based on Honolulu newspaper items. He summarized the
information and then handed it to the code clerk at the consulate.
Tsukikawa Sainon, an obsessive who spent hours every day wrapped up in
decoding and encoding messages, then attached special routing
information and sent the information to Tokyo by wire. Then, quite
suddenly, at the end of the year fewer and fewer items on the fleet
appeared in the newspapers. Okuda quickly compared the volume in the
previous month and guessed that the American’s were controlling the
release of information. Clearly another method of collecting information
needed to be put in place.
Okuda pressed into service Seki Kohichi who had been acting as the
consulate’s treasurer. Seki, a thin frail looking man was thirty-nine years
old but looked close to death. He was a graduate of the Naval College at Eta
Jima but had been honorably discharged for reasons of health. Through
family connection Seki had landed a job with the Foreign Ministry and was
posted to Hawaii. Okuda gave him a copy of Jane’s Fighting Ships. After a

few weeks of study he was ready to go into the field and begin collecting
information. Before sending him out Okuda showed him how to glean the
pages of the Honolulu newspapers for the small bits of information on the
U.S. Fleet that still appeared there.
Okuda quickly put Seki on the road. In little over an hour Seki could
travel from the consulate to Pearl Harbor that lay only seven miles away,
collect information, and make his way back again. It was ridiculously easy.
He hired a taxi that then drove him to the public parking lot at the harbor.
Without getting out of the taxi he could locate and count the ships lying at
anchor or watch as ships left harbor for the ocean. After a month of using a
taxi Okuda decided to enlist a young Japanese American employee of the
consulate as a driver. Richard Kotoshirodo began driving Seki to Pearl City
and Aiea. At various points they could see the breadth and width of the
harbor and could count ships to their hearts content.
A pattern emerged. Ships usually left the harbor following a weekend
and returned after a week at sea. While one group was away for a week, the
second remained in harbor carrying out routine peacetime harbor duties
and training. On Saturday night the crews left the ships for liberty in the
downtown bars and clubs. Sunday was a day off. There appeared to be little
sense of urgency to the movement of ships and personnel.
When the Japanese passenger ship Tatuta Maru landed in Honolulu
in early March of 1941 it had carried a fresh change of command for the
Consulate in the person of one Kita Nagao. He was a veteran diplomat

having served many years in posts in Asia. It was obvious to Okuda that
Kita San was perfect cover for the espionage activities he was engaged in.
Kita was the “friendly face of Japan.” Overtly social, outgoing and an avid
golfer Kita was the perfect foil for what would increasingly become the real
work of the consulate.
In Japan, Yoshikowa Takeo, a naval officer was recalled from a
medical disability to active service in intelligence. His spy handlers had
him primed for deep cover from the day in 1937 they selected him. His
background made him a nearly perfect fit for a spy. He longed to be of
service to his beloved navy. He was industrious and a particularly good
linguist. When told he would never be promoted he responded by avowing
his loyalty to the Emperor. Reporting to the Intelligence Division of the
Naval General Staff Yoshikawa was given simple instructions. He was to
improve his command of English. He plunged eagerly into study and after
four years he passed the Foreign Ministry’s English Language test at the
highest level. The second part of his studies was more to the point. He
would become an expert on the ships of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, and the U.S.
Bases at Guam, Manila and especially Hawaii. His controllers were pleased
with their student. He knew and genuinely appreciated his subject.
A few weeks after his language exam Yoshikawa’s name disappeared
from the navy lists. That same day a new junior diplomat turned up in the
foreign ministry. His commander Capt. Nishida Masao spoke to him the day
he left the Navy. “You will change your identity. You are now Morimura

Tadashi.”
He said the name, “Morimura,” and repeated it several times, trying
to feel the new person he was becoming.
“You are being assigned to the Japanese Consulate in Honolulu. Your
detailed orders will be transmitted in code to the consulate. But, I can say
that you will concentrate on the status of the ships and fleet in Pearl
Harbor. The consulate’s officers will be instructed to make your job possible
with their support.”.
Morimura Tadashi departed Yokohama on the Japanese passenger
ship Nitta Maru and arrived in Honolulu on March 27, 1941. His
instructions were to stay on ship until someone joined him from the
consulate. Before long the new Counsel General, Kita Nagao appeared in his
cabin with Okuda and a lower ranking clerk. They decked him out with a
flower lei and then led him off the ship just like any other tourist. Japan’s
top secret agent had slipped into Hawaii completely undetected by U.S.
counter-intelligence.
Okuda showed Morimura a small cottage on the consulate grounds
where he would be staying, and they deposited his luggage. Then Okuda
showed him into Kita’s office. Morimura presented Kita with a letter that
contained six one hundred-Dollar bills. Kita read the letter and laughed,
“Captain Yamaguchi Bunjiro, must think we wouldn’t agree to keep you
unless he paid. Never mind, you are welcome money or not.” They all
laughed and the tension they had been feeling dispersed. That afternoon,

they drove around Honolulu in Kita’s Lincoln Salon car. They showed
Morimura Waikiki Beach and the drinking spots in downtown Honolulu,
and then they drove out to Pearl City and looked at the harbor. As they sat
in the car Kita told Morimura about what they had done so far and
cautioned him to be careful. “First of all we must remember that we
represent the government of Japan in the United States. Although they
may become our enemy, at this time we are on friendly terms officially. If
there is trouble we could cause great embarrassment to our government.
We must avoid this if we can.”
Morimura nodded his assent to everything Kita said and then said;
“I am expecting instructions from Tokyo. Until they arrive I will do my best
to fit in and support what you are already doing.”
Morimura was obviously not what he purported to be just a junior
diplomat on first assignment. After a few days of attention to routine office
correspondence Kita promoted him to Chancellor of the Consulate. It was
not quite clear what functions the title encompassed but the consulate staff
was not disposed to ask many questions. Morimura set up his office in his
garden cottage and from then on was seldom to be seen inside the
consulate except for brief moments when he went to the code room with
documents to be cabled to Tokyo.
He made a couple of trips with Seki-san to the parking lot at Pearl
Harbor and then struck off on his own. His reports were much more
professional than the previous materials that had been sent to Tokyo. He

picked out names of the capital ships and knew the weekly schedule from
his own observations. Finally Tokyo wired him a request for a grid map of
the harbor and information about the way the ships were tied up around
Ford Island. This request elicited a careful survey of conditions and the
location of the aging U.S. Battleships and Cruisers that made up the U.S.
Pacific Fleet. Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto’s Combined Fleet was getting the
data it depended on to make possible a successful attack.

Chapter 30
Pearl Harbor December 6th 1941
Saturday, 6 December at Pearl Harbor was a glorious day.
Commander Edwin Layton, the Pacific Fleet’s Intelligence Officer seated in
a captain’s gig, headed across the sparkling blue waters of the harbor to
California, the flagship of the Fleet. The massive battleship was anchored in
majestic isolation off Ford Island at the head of Battleship Row. Ed Layton
was carrying the latest intelligence estimates, and a message from Admiral
Hart, Commander of the Asiatic Fleet. Admiral Pye, the battle force
commander, was waiting for him on the California’s quarterdeck. The
boss’s instructions were still ringing in Ed Layton’s ears, “Let him read it
and make up his own mind about what all this stuff means. Then get back
here. Let me know what he thinks.” Admiral Husband E. Kimmel could be
abrasive at time but Ed Layton understood the tremendous responsibility
that lay on his shoulders nothing less than the protection of all the US
possessions and lives of US citizens in the Pacific.
Knowing that he would be asked for his interpretation of the
information, Ed Layton thought about the message from Hart. It confirmed
that a 30 ship convoy with escorting cruisers and destroyers was moving
west off the southernmost tip of Indochina. Not far behind was another
convoy of 10 ships with two cruisers and 10 destroyers. There was another
report that 30 ships and a cruiser were spotted with steam up, departing
Camrahn Bay. Admiral Hart estimated that all the ships would probably

make for Kohtron, the narrows at the Isthmus of Kra on the frontier of
Siam and British Malaya. That the Japanese were moving in such force
meant an invasion to anyone with an ounce of sense. Early that morning he
had calculated that if the convoys maintained their course and speed they
would arrive at the beaches early the next day. Japan would then be at war
with Siam and Britain. Would the Japs risk leaving their flank exposed to
the US in the Philippines. Ed Layton didn’t think so. How soon would war
come to the US forces in the islands? It was anybody’s guess at this point.
Admiral Pye and his chief of staff read Hart’s report, and Ed
Layton’s morning intelligence summary. “I can’t imagine they will pick a
fight with the British,” Pye said, “Not with Tom Philips, and Prince of Wales
and the Repulse out there. There’s no doubt that they’ll try to carve out a
beach head in Siam and then use it as a base to close the Burma Road.
They’d be crazy to take on the Brits and us at the same time. What’s your
read, Commander Layton.”
“Sir, I think their move is indicative of a much broader plan. The
trickle of supplies reaching the Chinese over the Burma Road is not enough
for the Japs to risk a war over. They need petroleum. I believe that their
real objective is the oil fields in the Dutch East Indies. They might not leave
our forces unengaged on their flank. I think they will try to take us out in
the Philippines on the way down, and we will be at war.”
“ Oh no! They would never do that.” Pye responded, “We’re too strong
and powerful.” His Chief of Staff nodded in agreement.

Ed Layton returned to his office in the Submarine base and filed the
reports. Then he went to talk to Admiral Kimmel. “Sir, Admiral Pye and his
Chief of Staff don’t think we need to worry about the Philippines. They say
we’re too strong and powerful for the Japanese to attack.”
“Would you repeat that,” Kimmel said, leaning back in his chair.
That’s it Sir. Basically they rejected my intelligence summary and
both of them agreed that we’re too strong and powerful for the Japanese to
attack us in the Philippines or anywhere else.”
Kimmel looked straight through Layton, and then snorted,
disappointed by Pye’s response. “Look Layton, while you were gone I
looked into advisability of sending the ships here in Pearl to sea. I talked to
“Poc” Smith, Walt Delany, and “Soc” McMorris. They all think that without
our carriers, and without air cover, the battleships would be too vulnerable
at sea. Another thing we’re worried about is alarming the locals. And it just
doesn’t make sense to use all that fuel steaming around in circles out there.
If we use up all our reserves we won’t be able to keep an eye on the Jap
bases in the Marshals.”
“All good reasons, Admiral,” Layton said, “As you pointed out the
other day it would be best to have the fleet ready for offensive sorties when
hostilities do break out.”
“You’re a good man, Ed Layton. Talk to Joe Rochefort and remind
him that we need to know where those Jap carriers are. Christ! You’d
think we’d get some kind of a break getting a line on where they are.”

“I’ll talk to him this afternoon, Admiral.”
Ed Layton returned to his office later than usual because of his
hectic morning schedule. During lunch in the wardroom mess, the fleet
gunnery officer ribbed him for being, a “Saturday crisis” monger. Ed had
been predicting trouble each weekend for at least a month. And now, he
was even more worried about this specific weekend. Shortly after Joe
Rochefort called from his basement office. “Ed, this is Joe. Look I hate to
bother you but I think you should know that the shit could hit the fan
anytime now. The Japanese consulate here has destroyed all their codes
but one, and they are burning their official papers. This can’t mean
anything but war. I think the Japanese will attack somewhere tonight, or
tomorrow morning.”
“I think the same thing. But how do you know this stuff about the
consulate Joe,” Ed Layton said, “Also, Admiral Kimmel asked me to remind
you that we don’t have any idea where the Jap carriers are.”
“Mayfield called me. He got the information from his usual sources.”
“You mean the wire taps? What do you think we should do?”
“I’ve already sent a cable to Opnav ‘Believe local consul has
destroyed all but one system.’ If that doesn’t make ‘em sit up and think,
nothing will.”
“What about the carriers?”
“Damn it! You know we haven’t had anything for weeks. I saw that
message from Admiral Hart, but it doesn’t say anything about any

sightings of carriers. It may mean they are in the Marshall Islands or God
forbid, just around that corner that Kimmel keeps reminding us about. The
worst thing is that we’re totally overwhelmed with this change of call sign
and code problem. It could be weeks until we’ve sorted things out. We just
don’t have enough resources.”
“Well, Kimmel’s on my ass big-time over this thing. He exploded all
over me today. He said they could be just around the corner, and we’re here
like sitting ducks.”
“I know. He’s right about that. What does Admiral Pye think?”
“Pye! He’s in the “Head-in-the-Sand” group,” Layton said, “He still
thinks we are so big and strong the Japs would never risk a war with us.”
“That’s dumb. I haven’t seen your Saturday Intel summary yet, what
did you tell them in that?”
“I think the Japanese will go for the Philippines. They won’t risk
having us on their flank when they go for the oil in the Dutch East Indies.”
“Exactly. Like Kimmel says, I just hope those Jap carriers aren’t just
around Kimmel’s God Damn corner,” Rochefort said, “I’ve got to get back to
work here. If any thing happens give me a ring.”

Chapter 32
A Day of Infamy
After three days of flying, Colonel Angier Trout arrived at Hamilton
Air Force Base in California. The airfield, just north of San Francisco Bay,
was the take off point for the flights of B-17 Bombers that were being
ferried to the Pacific. The plan was that he would hitch a ride to Hawaii
from here. The base Bachelor Officer’s Quarters were in a low-lying wood
frame building in sparsely furnished rooms. The orderly who carried his
bags in from the staff car was apologetic. “Sorry Sir, these quarters aren’t
very fancy but we’re redoing the regular BOQ. Should be ready the next
time you stop by here.”
“Never mind. I won’t be staying long enough for it to matter,” Trout
said, “Thanks for your help.”
“Your flight time should be posted this afternoon. Someone will call
you to let you know what time to be ready for pickup.”
“That’s good. I’m going to get a shower and make some phone calls. I
left home so quickly I didn’t get a chance to say good bye.”
“Yes sir, sounds good. If you need anything Colonel, just dial the
operator and ask for extension 46.”
After a shower Angier Trout lay down on the bed and tried to collect
his thoughts. He’d best phone Col. Rufus Bratton and see what had
developed in the three days since he had departed Washington. Reaching
for the phone he dialed the operator, gave her Bratton’s number and asked

her to connect him.
“Colonel Bratton, Colonel Trout here. I am in California and expect to
be flying out tonight for Honolulu. I thought I’d better check in and let you
know I’ll be on my way in a couple of hours. What’s happening?”
“Hello, Angier. Is this a secure line.”
“No. At least I don’t think it is.”
“Can’t say much then. It’s pretty tense here. The negotiations have
stalled and we are all watching to see what’s going to happen.
“Is Admiral Nomura still on the job?
“Yes, still there. The Japs have sent a third ambassador to
Washington from Peru. I can’t imagine what he’ll add to the mix but
Zacharias says they always have to have three people to decide anything
important.”
“Well it beats me. I don’t know much about how they operate. Zack
knows about as much as anybody about the Japanese. I’ll let you know
when I get to Hawaii.”
“Right, I’ll be expecting your cable. If you see General Short give him
my regards.”
Angier cradled the phone and headed for the shower. As he was
toweling off the phone rang. “Lt. Crow here. May I speak to Colonel Trout?”
“Yes, this is Colonel Trout. What’s up?”
“Sir, I am calling to let you know that take off time for your flight is
scheduled for 2100 hrs. The Flight Commander has asked if you could

report an hour early for familiarization. The planes are pretty heavily
loaded with fuel when they depart here, so extra safety precautions are in
order.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant. I’ll be ready. Will you have a car pick me up
at say, 19:45?”
“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”
The flight to Hawaii was 2,500 miles. This, Trout guessed, was just
about the limit of the B-17’s range even with extra fuel on board. The flight
would be a long one, and he was already tired from the flight west. He set
his small traveling alarm clock to Pacific Time and set the alarm for 8:15
before going to sleep.
Three hours later, when the driver knocked he was already headed
to the door with his two bags, and within minutes he was entering the
pilot’s ready room. His driver hustled his two bags through the door, and
then introduced him to Major Truman Landon, Commander of the 38th
Bomb Squadron. “Good evening Colonel Trout, I hope everything has been
to your liking. I know that you haven’t had very much time on the ground
since you arrived, but the cable we got said you were in a hurry, and this is
the earliest flight out to Hawaii.”
“Yes, thanks Major. No problem. How long does the flight take?”
“24 to 25 hours. A lot depends on the winds aloft. Either way we
don’t have a lot of fuel remaining when we hit the ground in Hawaii even
with extra tanks in the bomb bay. We usually go without our guns to save

weight but this time we’ve received a message from General Arnold that
war is imminent and we might run into a war on the way so we’re carrying
our armament bomb sights and machine guns. We’ll pick up ammunition in
the islands.
“Sounds long long but good.”
Landon laughed. “It better be good. Hawaii is just a tiny speck in a
pretty big ocean. Navigation can be a problem. Fortunately, the army pays
the radio stations in Hawaii to broadcast all night long when we have a
flight headed out there. That way we can home in on their signal with our
direction finders.”
“Capitol idea. Will I be flying with you?”
“No, You’ve been assigned a seat in Lt. Frank Bostrom’s plane, San
Antonio Rose. She’s the new E-type B-17. Bostrom’s a good pilot. You’ll like
him I think. Your plane is scheduled last on this flight since we weren’t sure
what time you’d get here. We don’t fly in formation on this trip. It’s such a
long flight it would put too much pressure on the crew to stay in tight
position.”
“So, we’re to be loosely grouped I gather.”
“That’s it exactly. Well, Colonel, I wish we had more time but most of
the guys are already at their planes. I’ll have Sgt. Burley show you to the
plane and introduce you to Lt. Bostrom. Have a good trip. When we meet up
in Hawaii I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You’re on.”

Sgt. Burley drove Angier Trout to the flight line in an olive drab
Chevrolet staff car that had seen better days. The stuffing was coming out
of the seats and the heavier of his two bags stuck on a loose spring when
they lifted it out. Sgt. Burley grinned and said, “First class transportation
don’t you agree.”
Angier laughed and said, “I just hope this airplane you are putting
me on is in slightly better condition.”
“Oh it is. It’s the best. Lt. Bostrom wouldn’t have it any other way.”
1st Lt. Frank Bostrom was a lanky Texan with an air of complete
self-confidence. “Welcome to the Hawaii Express, Colonel Trout. We’re
almost ready to go. I’ll have the crew chief show you around and explain
the safety precautions before we go.”
This was Angier’s first experience of a plane as big as the B-17.
“Pretty airplane, isn’t she.”
“Yup. It’s the best thing flying. For a bomber, that is. More payload,
range and fighting power than just about anything else in the sky. If you
treat a plane like this right she’ll take you there and get you back.”
Angier’s “seat” was a stack of two parachutes with a backrest made
of a third leaned against the bulkhead in the flight deck. His bags were
stuffed into a space in the bomb bay over the temporary fuel tanks. “One of
the crew our tail gunner is in the hospital with appendicitis. I guess that’s
why you got assigned to San Antonio Rose.

We were told you are on special assignment so you don’t appear on
our crew list,” Bostrom said as he inquired after Angier’s seating
arrangement.”
“I understand Lieutenant,” Angier said, “If something happens, I
don’t exist.”
“Something like that I guess,” Bostrom said, “Why don’t you come
forward where you can watch the first of the planes take off.”
Angier followed Frank Bostrom forward until he was even with the
back of the pilot and co-pilots position. They watched as the first plane
taxied into place, and began the roll out before finally lifting into the air.
One by one, the first flight of 6 planes lumbered down the runway and
disappeared into the dark. The second flight of six followed 5 minutes later.
San Antonio Rose’s four powerful Wright Cyclone R-1820-97 engines
warmed up as they waited for take-off. The plane vibrated against its own
brakes as the power of the engines increased. Their noise precluded
normal conversation in the cockpit. Frank Bostrom gave Angier a “thumbs
up” before pushing the throttles forward for their charge down the runway.
Slowly the big plane picked up speed and finally in one final leap left the
ground and began it’s climb to 25,000 feet, where it was capable of cruising
at nearly 200 mph. When Angier returned to his seat, the navigator
handed him a headset and plugged him into the intercom. He could hear
the rest of the crew checking in to report all systems normal, and the
radioman attempting to tune in Honolulu radio.

“Cap. There’s too much interference to hear them this far away,” the
radioman said, “I’ll try again when we are further offshore.”
There was more small talk that gradually died down, and silence
descended over the big ship as the engine’s drone overcame the natural
desire to talk. The navigator began the first of his frequent star sights and
sat at his desk doing the navigational calculations to keep a check on their
position. Angier Trout, wrapped in a warm flight suit, with an oxygen mask
over his nose, was soon asleep. Honolulu lay far ahead in the dark
On the 7th, during the night, Tokyo time, the wind freshened and the
ships of Admiral Yamamoto’s Attack Force rolled down increasingly steep
seas. On the six aircraft carriers, the aircraft handlers and the armorers
moved planes into position for a morning launch. Mechanics and crew
chiefs checked and rechecked the engines and mechanical systems. A
message arrived for all persons from Admiral Yamamoto. His final remarks
before the battle ended with an exhortation, “The fate of the Empire rests
on this enterprise. Every man must devote himself totally to the tasks at
hand.” The message was passed on to each ship and Admiral Nagumo
ordered the Z flag raised on the Akagi. It was the same flag that had been
run up on the Mikasa in the Tsushima Straits during the war with Russia
thirty years before. Later that night the fleet received one welcome bit of
news. Tokyo Radio #1 reported that the Utah had returned to port
increasing the total number of battleships on the row in Pearl Harbor to 9.
There was still no sign of any aircraft carriers.

At Hashirajima anchorage, Yamamoto was awake all night listening
to his subordinates talk as they tracked the incoming radio traffic. The
absence of the American aircraft carriers worried him. What Yamamoto
did not know was that Admiral Kimmel’s Pacific Fleet had only two of its
complement of carriers in Hawaiian waters. Were I in command, Admiral
Yamamoto thought, I’d send out scout plans to see if I could locate them. He
started to compose a message, then stopped to consider. His capacity is not
great, he thought, he would only be distracted. Then he crumpled his note
and threw it a way. There was nothing to do but to wait.
Well before dawn, the cruisers Chikuma and Tone turned stern to the
wind and catapulted their Zero-Sen seaplanes into the sky. Once aloft, the
pilots turned towards Oahu on a scouting mission to try and detect possible
danger to the Strike Force. Admiral Nagumo was not about to take a chance
and be surprised.
On the six strike force aircraft carriers most of the pilots were up
and organized at an early hour. They washed, shaved, and donned their
flying suits, leather helmets and parachutes. Those that could eat wolfed
down chestnuts, sea bream and rice. Then, they ended breakfast with hot
green tea before heading to the ready rooms for a short briefing.
On Akagi, Captain Fuchida Mitsuo awakened from a trouble sleep,
slipped on his clothes and headed for the bridge. The Attack Fleet’s
navigator, Commander Miura Gishio, looking haggard and exhausted from
days with little or no sleep, was directing a boatswain’s mate marking up a

large-scale chart with the fleet’s most recent position. Miura looked up at
Fuchida. “Its going as planned. In three hours we should be at the take off
point. From there it’s an hour and fifty minute flight to the target.”
“That’s good,” Fuchida said, “What’s the weather like over the
target?”
“It’s OK. The radio room has been listening to the Hawaiian radio
station all night. You should be able to fly right down their signal to the
harbor.”
The skipper of the Akagi, Captain Hasagawa Kiichi, approached
Fuchida and said, “Commander Genda was here a few minutes ago looking
for you. He said he’d be in the officers mess if you came in.”
“Thank you, Skipper,” Fuchida said, “I’ll go down and find him.”
Genda was sitting by himself in a corner of the mess when Fuchida
entered the room. “Good morning Commander.”
A broad smile crossed Genda’s face. “Ah, Fuchida, I’ve been looking
for you.”
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to see you personally before the operation begins.”
“I am feeling the same way. What do you think?”
“It seems everything is ready. We’ve come a long way undetected,
and with any luck from here on I think this attack will succeed.”
Fuchida grinned, “Yes, and I am the luckiest person to be leading the
attack. Still, the plan is not perfect.

I keep thinking we should be landing troops on Hawaii, and really
taking care of things there.”
“Most of us would agree with you. Unfortunately the Army and our
own high command don’t have enough confidence. If we want to go south
we should first be going east. But, what can you do. It is our job to do the
best according to the approved plan.”
“Of course,” Fuchida said getting up, “I’d better be going I still
haven’t had breakfast.”
“I’ll see you again before takeoff.”
“Oh, before I go any changes in the status of the American fleet?”
“Submarine I-72 reported from off Maui. The American fleet is not at
Lahaina,” Genda replied, “It looks like all the elements except the carriers
are at Pearl Harbor.”
“That’s too bad about the carriers,” Fuchida said, “Well, it can’t be
helped.”
Fuchida ate breakfast and then carefully dressed for combat. Then
he leafed through the attack plan mounted on his clipboard for the
hundredth time. As he climbed the stairs to the flight operations control
the lead planes were being prepared to take off.
The Akagi’s flight control officer, Commander Masuda Shogi
approached. “The pitch and roll is pretty severe what do you think about
taking off in the dark. It seems very dangerous.”

“If this were a training mission obviously we’d wait until daylight.
The pitch is worse than the roll. All we have to do is coordinate the takeoffs
with the pitch and there should be no problem,” Fuchida said. He saw
Admiral Nagumo looking out at the flight deck and went over to say
goodbye. “Admiral, I am ready for the mission.”
“Good morning Fuchida,” Nagumo said grasping Fuchida’s hand, “I
have confidence in you.” Then both men turned and headed for the pilot’s
briefing room where the skipper of the Akagi was standing in front of the
pilots. Fuchida called the men to order and saluted Captain Hasegawa. “We
are ready sir.”
“Good, take off as planned.” Hasegawa said and then saluted the
group.
On the way out of the dimly lit briefing room Fuchida saw Genda
waiting for him. Neither man spoke, but they shook hands and both broke
out in broad grins. Then Fuchida descended quickly to the flight deck and
went to his plane, distinguished by a red and yellow-stripped tail painted to
mark it as the flight commander’s plane.
A strong wind came across the flight deck as the ship pitched and
rolled. Fuchida leaned into the wind and hurried across to his crew chief
and the maintenance boatswain who waited with a white Hachimaki, a
headband that he put around his helmet. “It’s from the crew. We’d like you
take it to Pearl Harbor.”

“Thank them for me. Sayonara,” Fuchida said as he climbed into the
plane.
The carrier turned to port and headed into a north wind. The battle
flag was hoisted above the Z flag, and whole ship shook with the vibrations
caused by the aircraft engines warming up. Captain Hasegawa gave the
order to launch planes. A Zero-Sen. fighter was first in line to take off. The
green “take off” lamp was waved in a circle and the plane rolled forward
down the pitching deck, reaching the end just as the great ship started
back down on the receding wave. The Zero lifted off and started to climb as
the second plane roared down the deck. Loud cheers broke out on deck as
each of the planes that followed, lifted off.
The first attack wave of planes assembled behind Captain Fuchida’s
plane and the formation of 183 planes headed due south for Oahu. Fuchida
turned on the radio direction finder and tuned in Honolulu radio. It was
playing light morning music. The surface of the sea was so far below he
couldn’t tell if he was off course by visual means so he fine tuned the radio
and made a 5 degree course correction to follow the radio signal in. Then,
suddenly he heard a weather report. “Good morning. And it is a very fine
morning in Honolulu this Sunday morning. Averaging partly cloudy, with
clouds mostly over the mountains above 3,500 feet. Visibility good. Wind
north, 10 miles per hour.”
Fuchida’s face broke into a broad smile. He had worried incessantly
about the weather all the way across the Pacific. Now conditions couldn’t be

better. What good fortune! He glanced at the instrument panel and noted
that they were making 125 knots. A quick calculation put them over the
target in an hour because the favoring tailwind was pushing them along.
They flew over some thick black clouds that pushed up to 2,000 ft. The day
was breaking and a brilliant sun burst over the eastern sky. He pushed
back the canopy and looked back at the formations flying behind him, the
wings of the planes glittering in the sunlight. He could not imagine a more
beautiful sight.
Three hundred miles from Hawaii, San Antonio Rose’s radio
operator scanned the airwaves for the Hawaiian radio station. As he
cranked the tuning dial he heard music and listened for a station break
identifying the station. The tune ended and then he heard the magic words
KGMB Honolulu. “Got Honolulu’s KGMB on the radio Sir. I make it dead
ahead with the direction finder.”
“Good Going!” Lt. Bostrom responded, “Can you patch them into the
intercom?”
Angier Trout woke up, and stretching his legs, looked at his watch
and realized that he had no idea what time it was. “What’s the local time?”
Should be just coming up on 0700,” the navigator said, “It won’t be
long now and we’ll be on the ground. Just in time for breakfast,” he added.
Lt. Bostrom’s voice broke in over the intercom; “We’ve been making
good time. We should be one of the first planes in our flight. How’s Colonel
Trout doing back there?”

“I’m good, but I’m hungry as hell.”
“Me too, I could stand some of that Hawaiian coffee and two helpings
of ham and eggs right now.”
“Amen,” someone said.
Commander Fuchida studied the mass of clouds obscuring Oahu
through his binoculars. As his lead plane reached a point 25 miles from the
coastline the Akagi relayed a radio message from a floatplane launched
earlier from the cruiser Chikuma, “Enemy formation at anchor. Wind and
cloud conditions favorable.” No one on the ground had seen the plane as it
flew over the area. Another relayed a message from a float plane launched
from I-61, the submarine Tone;.’No Ships in the Lahaina Anchorage off
Maui.”
Suddenly, the clouds broke around them. Fuchida could see a long
line of coast as they flew over Kahaku Point, the very northern tip of the
island. It was time to deploy. Fuchida fired the signal flare that would signal
the attack. “Notify all planes to attack,” he shouted into the intercom,
“send the tosugeki signal CHARGE!” As the plane swung wide around
Barber Point the radio operator tapped out “TO, TO, TO, the prearranged
code signal. ATTACK!.Akagi and all the other ships in the attack force
picked up the electrifying message. Simultaneously, five thousand miles
away across the Pacific, Admiral Yamamoto heard the relayed message in
the Flagship of the combined fleet, swinging at anchor in the Inland Sea of
Japan.

Fuchida was certain that fighters high above had not seen the first
flare so he fired a second. Confused, Lt. Commander Takahashi, the wing
leader of the dive bomber group peeled away, climbed to 10,000 feet and
then leg his group to diversionary attacks on Ford Island, Hickam Field,
and Wheeler Field. The excited pilots cheered as they swept over the green
fields of pineapple and sugar cane and plunged on to the attack on the
airstrips where Hawaii’s first line of defense lay waiting to be destroyed on
the ground. The parked fighters were the first to be destroyed by the
strafing planes. On Ford Island the PBY flying boats struck by bombs
disintegrated and pieces of debris flew skyward.
Fuchida led his group of level bombers over the Barber point airfield.
They couldn’t see any planes on the ground. Over Pearl Harbor he watched
as the torpedo bombers began their attack. The first plane raced in low
over the Battleship Nevada and fired its cannon at the superstructure. It
shredded the battleship’s half-hoisted ensign as rows of crewmembers
waited for the raising of the flag. From his grandstand seat, high aloft over
the action, Fuchida could see tiny white flashes of smoke as the torpedoes
dropped making a ring of waves in the water. After a short run they
slammed into their targets. Arizona, Maryland, Oklahoma and West
Virginia, the pride of the Pacific fleet, were quickly enveloped in flames and
thick black smoke.
“Send the message,” Fuchida said over the intercom, “TO RA, TO RA,
TO RA, We made a surprise attack. Request you relay this message to

Tokyo”
Ten minutes later. “Sir, Akagi has received our message. The Tora,
Tora, Tora was heard on the Flagship in Japan.”
It was time to turn back to the attack. Fuchida ordered his pilot to
bank sharply; this was the attack signal for the planes following. All ten of
the following squadrons formed up in single file 200 meters apart. “Sir,
shall I climb and let Lt. Matsuzaki lead the bomb run?” his pilot asked.
“Hai, lets do as planned,” Fuchida responded. He looked down as the
lead plane passed under and he could see the bombardier looking up. He
was smiling and waving. As the squadrons pressed on to their targets anti-
aircraft fire suddenly started, arcing up from the ships below. Dark gray
bursts broke all around the onrushing planes and Fuchida could feel the
impact of the explosions as the shells went off. How quickly their gun crews
have responded, he thought as he peered down at the stricken ships. Our
own crews would not be as quick.
Suddenly, the plane bounced as if hit by a huge club. “The fuselage is
holed behind me,” the radioman said, there is a piece of control wire
whipping around out there.”
“Pilot, any problems with the controls,” Fuchida asked.
“Everything seems to be ok,” Matsuzaki replied.
The ground fire was increasing in intensity and the shock waves
from the explosions were buffeting the plane. Fuchida looked over at a
plane that was flying on their same level. The bomb release was hanging

down and the plane trailed a spume of gasoline. He scribbled a question on
a chalk slate, “What Happened.” Back came the reply ’Fuel Tank hit. Can
we follow you.”
The flight continued on past the bomb release point. The smoke was
roiling up from the target area in great columns of dense sooty cloud.
Fuchida ordered a turn to the right towards Honolulu, and a go-around for
another pass over the target area. Suddenly there was a tremendous
explosion. The flash up ahead was over a thousand feet high. The shock
wave passed over the planes and they were buffeted wildly. “What was
that,” Fuchida asked?”
“Must have been a powder magazine. Terrible! Terrible!”
“Yes,” Fuchida said looking down at his chart, “It was the Arizona.
We’ll have to select a new target. I can’t see the Nevada.”
Looking through his binoculars he spotted a battleship. It had not
been attacked. “Change of Target! Let’s go for the Maryland.”
They passed back into the zone of anti aircraft fire. Ack-Ack shells
seemed to be everywhere. Time to concentrate, Fuchida thought, and he
tightened his grip around the bomb release lever. He watched the pilot who
would give the release signal and then released the bomb. Through a hole
in the floor he could see the bombs fall away from the attacking planes and
arc down to the target. Then they passed out of sight and he could only see
the rings of the water waves where the misses plunged into the harbor and
small red flashes. He counted two hits and two misses out of the four bombs

from the closest planes.
“Let’s check the airfields,” Fuchida called out over the radio.”
He led the squadrons over Hickam and Wheeler Fields. Then flew
over Kaneohe Base for a quick look. Everything visible through the smoke
and fire was a shambles on the ground. Turning in a wide arc the flight flew
back over Pearl Harbor. Fuchida made quick notes on the pad on his lap:
Utah Capsized, West Virginia and Oklahoma Hull sides blown away, listing
badly. Arizona listing badly and burning furiously. Maryland on fire.
Tennessee on fire. Heavy oil was spreading everywhere and fires covered
large patches of the harbor.
When he was satisfied with his survey, Fuchida ordered his
Squadrons back to the Carriers, “Return to the carriers, refuel, and
rearm.”
Alone now, Fuchida and his crew contemplated the damage that was
apparent below. The torpedoes had been especially effective the modified
fins had worked in the shallow waters of the harbor. Without the torpedo
nets even the Battleships could not withstand the explosion of a large
torpedo against their hulls. All the long months of preparation in
Kagoshima bay had paid off. A quiet glow of satisfaction descended over
them in the aftermath of the attack.
Within minutes, the second wave of attacking planes, 171 in all
arrived over the target areas. By this time the Americans had organized a
blanketing barrage of Ack-Ack fire. The ships below were so obscured by

the smoke that it was difficult to find a target. Only by flying low over the
area through the thick blanket of defensive fire was it possible to bomb and
strafe the remaining undamaged vessels. The dive-bombers were in the
vanguard. Lt. Commander Egusa Takahise, who Fuchida knew from flight
school, led his squadron down into the inferno, concentrating on the least
damaged ships. The ground fire was intense and Fuchida could see stricken
Japanese planes spiraling up out of the smoke and flame then cart
wheeling into the bay.
It was just before 0300 hrs. Manila time, when the Teletype began
chattering in the Headquarters of the Asiatic Fleet. The sleepy radioman
on duty rolled across the floor on the casters of his desk chair and picked
off a plain text message. It was short eight words that jolted him awake:.
‘AIR RAID PEARL HARBOR THIS IS NO DRILL.’ Moments later the
operator confronted Marine Lieutenant Colonel Bill Clement in his office.
“Sir, you’ve got to see this.”
“What ya got?”
“Pearl’s being bombed by the Japs.”
“Good God! Can this be true.”
“I think so Sir, it came through in clear text wasn’t even encoded.
The operator sent it twice.
“Holy shit.” Clement said, “I’d better call the boss.”
Admiral Thomas C. Hart was deep in sleep in his room at the Manila
Hotel when Clement phoned him. “Sir, this is Colonel Clement. I’m coming

right over with a very important message.”
When Clement arrived at Admiral Hart’s room Rear Admiral William
Purnell his chief of staff was already in the room. Hart, still sitting on the
edge of his bed in his pajamas, read the message and handed it to Purnell.
“Are you sure this is genuine?” Hart asked.
Clement explained the nature of the transmission and vouched for
its authenticity. Hart stirred, reached for a piece of paper on the
nightstand and wrote, ‘Japan has started hostilities. Govern yourself
accordingly.’ “Have communications send this to every ship and naval
station within the command.” Looking at Pernell, he said, “You go with him
and get this thing underway. I’ll be over as soon as I get some clothes on.”
In the interim, a second message had been picked up. It was from
Admiral Husband E. Kimmel, Commander Pacific Fleet. It confirmed the
first message, and was in it’s own way just as shocking: ‘TO PACIFIC
FLEET: HOSTILITIES WITH JAPAN COMMENCED WITH AIR RAID ON
PEARL.’
At the controls of San Antonio Rose for nearly 25 hours, Frank
Bostrom was a worried pilot. He checked the fuel gauges and throttled back
slightly as if to save a few precious drops of the stuff.”
“Clouds up ahead. I think they might be masking Oahu, skipper.”
“That’s got to be it. Fuel’s pretty damned low. Let’s put Rosie on the
ground in a hurry,” Bostrom said.

Soon they could see the island below them. Bostrom called Hickam
field on the radio and the tower gave him permission to land. He put the big
plane into rapid ascent and he saw a ship burning in the water below.
“What the hell”
“Lots of smoke coming up from down there.”
There was a loud explosion just off the left wing followed by a puff of
smoke. “Goddamn! Somebody’s shooting at us,” Bostrom yelled, grabbing
the microphone. “Tower, what the hell is going on down there?”
“Pearl Harbor and Hickam field are being attacked by enemy planes.
You are being fired on by enemy planes.”
“Bullshit! That was Ak-Ak fire from the ground. Tower why didn’t
you tell us this was going on?
The altimeter read 700 ft and the anti-aircraft fire was increasing.
“Son-of-bitch! Let’s get the hell out of here.” He yanked the yoke back and
applied full power. San Antonio Rose ascended sharply, and Bostrom
ducked into a cloud. Coming out on the other side the B-17 was quickly set
upon by a fighter plane with fiery red suns painted on its wings. Bostrom
ducked into another cloud but when they emerged on the other side two
more fighters slashed up from behind and riddled the defenseless bomber
with machine gun fire.
By applying full power the B-17 was able to run away from the
fighters. “Using up fuel fast,” Bostrom yelled. Let’s get this thing on the
ground.”

“There’s a golf course down there, Skipper.”
“Ok! Keep your heads down guys, we’re going in.”
As the big plane hit the fairway there was a loud WOOMP. The tires
had blown out from the force of the impact. It staggered for a moment, and
then rolled out nearly 500 yards before it came to rest. It was sometime
before a shaken crew, with one nameless passenger, emerged from the
airplane. They were miraculously safe on the ground. The plane appeared
to be badly damaged. The San Antonio Rose’s tail and the rear of the
fuselage were riddled with bullet holes, and a small fuel leak was spilling
gasoline on the ground. “Good thing we were out of gas or we’d all be
roasted by now.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“No thanks to the Tower,” Bostrom said, “Whoever was in that place
should be court-marshaled. Why didn’t they tell us about the attack? We
came close to all being killed! Son-of-bitch! And to top it all off, we had
guns, but no ammunition.”
Then Bostrom asked after Colonel Trout, “You Ok?”
“I dunno,” Angier answered, “I guess so. I’ve got a helluva headache.
I bumped my head on the overhead when we landed.” He rubbed the top of
his head, grinned and said, “I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m still
hungry as hell.”.
His remark broke the tension and everyone laughed. “Where the hell
are we, Bostrom said, “We’ve got to get the Colonel something to eat.”.

“We’re East of Hickam, Sir,” the Navigator said, “If we walk to the
clubhouse we can probably get someone to give us a ride to the base.”
“Let’s hope there’s still some base left.”
Almost as suddenly as it had begun the attack was over. The
attacking planes had run out of ammunition and bombs. It was time to
return to the carriers. The squadrons disappeared to the north as quickly
as they had arrived. Fuchida lingered over Pearl Harbor, high above the
anti-aircraft fire, taking photographs and assessing the damage. Then
suddenly a Zero Fighter approached waggling its wings. Without the
instruments necessary to get back to the Carriers the Zero pilots depended
on the larger planes to lead the way. Fuchida ordered a fly over of the
rendezvous point and located another lost Zero. The grateful pilots
followed them home to Akagi.
As his pilot leveled out on his approach to a landing on the carrier,
Fuchida checked his watch. It was a few minutes before noon. The whole
attack had taken less than six hours and there was plenty of daylight to
mount another strike if they hurried. As soon as the plane stopped rolling
Fuchida climbed out of the cockpit and headed for the bridge. The room
was full of tension when Fuchida entered. He realized instantly that the
officers of Nagumo’s staff had been arguing over a second strike while they
waited for his report.
“Four battleships definitely sunk, one sank instantly, another
capsized, and two others may have settled to the bottom of the bay and

may have capsized. A variety of other vessels are sunk or crippled.”
Fuchida said.
“Then we have achieved our objectives,” Nagumo said, “What about
the airbases?”
“Extensive damage everywhere. Our pilots caught many planes on
the ground. In spite of this some American pilots managed to get into the
air. They fought bravely but they were surprised and overwhelmed,”
Fuchida said, “All things considered we achieved a great amount of
destruction, but it would be unwise to assume that we have damaged
everything. Many targets remain to be hit. For these reasons I recommend
that another attack be launched. We should”
“The objective of the Pearl Harbor operation is complete,” Vice
Admiral Kusaka Ryunosuke said, “Now it’s time for us to retire and
prepare for all the operations that are to come.”
“But Sir, we haven’t finished the job. We need to make sure the repair
shops and the fuel depots are destroyed,” Genda said, “Surely we can’t go
away without finishing the task. We have the enemy on his back. Now we
can finish him off.”
“But we don’t know where the American carriers are. We lost many
more planes in the second wave’s attack this morning. And the enemy will
be expecting us this time,” said Admiral Nagumo, I don’t think we should
risk the possibility of being attacked by the American carriers just to
destroy a few more targets on the ground and lose many planes doing it.”

Genda started to renew his argument but Kusaka signaled him to
stop.
“Thank you for your report Commander Fuchida. Gentlemen, You
have won a tremendous victory,” said Admiral Nagumo, “Let’s go home.
Signal the rest of the fleet.”
As the ships of the attack force turned for Japan, Genda and Fuchida
stared in disbelief. “How could we train for so long, come all this way, and
then not finish the job,” Genda whispered, “Nagumo is a fool. So stupid and
no guts!”
When the crew of San Antonio Rose arrived at Hickam Field in a pair
of taxies, the place was a shambles. Fires were still burning in several
places and the blasted hulks of planes smoldered on the pock marked
runways. A makeshift assembly room had been pieced together in what
was left of a bombed out hanger. A somber group of pilots and
administrative staff milled about trying to get information. Lt. Bostrom
and Col. Trout spent some time piecing together bits and pieces of the story
of the attack from people they talked to. In the confusion it seemed
impossible to find out what had happened to the rest of the B-17’s from
their flight. Then word came that several of the planes had landed at other
bases on the island. “Lieutenant. I suggest you organize an information
center here somewhere and start compiling information as it comes in,
Colonel Trout said, “That way you won’t lose pieces of information and you
can get a better overall picture of the way things stand.”

“Yes, sir. That’s a good idea,” Bostrom said, “And, I’ve got to write a
report on our flight, and file it with whoever’s in charge here.”
“Yeah, It’s going to be tough for a day or so, but I’m sure you’ll get it
all sorted out pretty quickly when everyone gets over the shock. I’ve got to
get to a typewriter myself and file a report to Washington by cable.”
“Probably best to get a hotel room in the city,” Bostrom said, “From
the looks of things around here it’s going to be hard to find quarters here at
Hickam.”
“You’re right. I think I’ll skeedaddle into Honolulu and find a place.
I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”
“Yes Sir. How about we plan to meet around 9 in the morning.”
“Right-O.”
Although it took several more hours, Col. Trout managed to get to
downtown Honolulu where he finally checked in at the small Waikikian
Hotel on Waikiki Beach. He ordered a typewriter be brought to his room.
When it was delivered, he sat down and began to write. Two hours later he
had a concise summary of his trip and a description of all that had
happened from his own experience that day in the skies over Honolulu.
When he was satisfied with his draft he quickly retyped a clean copy and
headed to the front desk of the Hotel. He sent it off by messenger to the
RCA Communications business office with instructions that it is to be sent
by radio cable to Colonel Rufus Bratton, in care of the White House. He
knew a copy would be made and routed to the President automatically. The

last line of the cable read: ‘We got here, but with too little, too late.’
It must be hell in Washington right now, he thought as he headed to
the hotel bar for a drink. On his way he picked up copies of the Honolulu
Advertiser and Honolulu Star newspaper’s EXTRA editions. Both papers
were filled with photographs of the disaster at Pearl Harbor, and the
airfields, which had been hit by the Japanese attack.
He stayed late in the bar that night ordering dinner there, and
listening to the radio where a crowd sat around listening to the news
reports coming in. By the time he turned in he felt drained and exhausted.
He tossed and turned for several hours, finally getting to sleep just before
dawn.
When the knock on the door came he was in a deep dreamless sleep.
He sat bolt up and rubbed the ooze from his encrusted eyes, peering into
the gloom. “What’s up.”
“Wake up call, Sir. And your breakfast and the morning papers.”
He stumbled to the door and opened it. A young bellhop stood
balancing a tray on one hand while trying to read beyond the head lines in
the newspapers he held in the other. “Looks pretty bad, Sir,” he said, “The
Japs are attacking all over the place.”
Trout nodded and then grunted assent. He picked up some change
from the pile on the bed table and gave the boy a tip. “Don’t worry son,
we’re going to whip the hell out of those bastards.”
“I sure hope you’re right Sir,” the boy said as he backed out the door.

‘JAPS ATTACK PEARL HARBOR!’ the Headlines screamed almost
off the page. A sub headline further down, carried the most worrying news
Japanese attack over a wide front in the Pacific. ñ ‘US Takes heavy blow.
Air assault in the Philippines destroys planes on the ground.’ Angier Trout
ate slowly as he scanned the pages. The news was far worse than he
expected when he had gone to sleep. Most of it was fragmented, and
incomplete, but one thing was clear the world was at war.
The hanger was filled with cots and sleeping aircrews when he got
back to Hickam. As he walked up to the officers standing in front of a
makeshift chalkboard, Lt. Bostrom noticed his arrival and broke away
from the group to greet him. “Good morning Colonel, How was your night?
“Probably a lot better than yours, Lieutenant. What’s the score.”
“Not so good if you mean our flight. Quite a few of our planes were
destroyed trying to land, and those that managed it are pretty well shot up.
We’re trying to regroup here but many of the planes can’t be flown and the
runways are in bad shape everywhere.”
“That’s too bad. My problem is that I’ve got to get out to the
Philippines. Have any idea when you might be able to leave?”
“Frankly Colonel, I think you might have a better chance with the
Navy. We could be weeks sorting out this mess and getting planes airborne
again. I heard yesterday that the Navy still has PBY’s flying out to points
west.”
By the time he reached Fleet Headquarters at Pearl Harbor’s

Submarine Base it was almost noon. The scene was a shock. Widespread
destruction was the journalistic description that leaped to his mind. It
really was beyond description. Small fires still burned here and there, and
the acrid smell was overpowering. He showed his orders to the guard on
duty, and got directions to the Fleet Intelligence office. Reaching his
destination, he confronted a boatswain’s mate on duty. “Colonel Angier
Trout to see Lt. Commander Edwin T. Layton, Pacific Fleet Intelligence
Officer.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Colonel,” Layton said, “As you can
imagine we’ve been pretty busy around here trying to locate the enemy’s
fleet. It’s tough because all of our longer range aircraft are either destroyed
or severely damaged.”
“What the hell happened,” Angier asked, “How did we get caught
with our pants down? Where are the Japs?’
“The Japanese fleet was north of here. By now it’s on its way back to
Japan. As to the other part of your question, I have my own ideas, but of
course I am not at liberty to discuss them with you. Off the record, it looks
like we didn’t get the war warning from Washington in time.”.
“So there was a warning.”
“Oh yes, there was a warning alright, It was delivered hours after the
attack started.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Exactly.”

Angier Trout could not imagine what had gone wrong in Washington.
Something or someone must have screwed up royally. “I haven’t any idea
what could have happened. Generally things seemed to be under control, at
least on the surface, when I left the White House. Obviously it’s no good
speculating on what might have happened.”
“That’s probably right. What we’re doing now is to assess the
damages. It’s been pretty horrendous.”
“Yes, it looks pretty bad out there. Excuse me, Commander Layton,
but I’ve an even more pressing official problem. I have orders to get to
Manila quickly by whatever means. Can the Navy help me?”
“Yes, Colonel Bratton’s cable said you are on a intelligence trip for
the White House. Now that we’re in it, do you think your orders will
change?”
“I suppose it’s even more urgent now.”
“In anticipation of your call, I checked on available flights out of here.
I am afraid that all of our flying boats are either out of commission or are
needed here. Pan American’s Clipper is still in the Far East. The only thing
I could come up with is a ride on one of our subs that’s going on patrol with
a scheduled stop at Manila.”
“I guess I won’t be able to fly. The Army’s B-17’s are not going to be
available anytime soon. When does the sub leave?
“We’ll have a firm departure time in a day or so. In the meantime
you’re welcome to hang out here. Where are you staying?”

“Thanks, I’ll try to make myself useful. At the moment I’ve got a
room on the beach The Waikikian Hotel.”
“That sounds better than anything we can offer.”
With what he took to be Layton’s promise of a ride on a submarine to
Manila, Angier Trout settled down to wait, and write reports to the White
House on the situation at Pearl Harbor. He also planned to stay in touch
with his Army Air Force B-17 companions in the remote chance that they
would be able to regroup and start the long flight to the Philippines.
*.*.*
The USS Trout (SS-202), a Tambor Class Fleet Submarine, was built
and commissioned at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, in Kittery, Maine.
The sub was named after Senator Trout and the name fit because it was
also the name of a fish. After it’s sea trials and preliminary shakedown
cruises it left New York on July 2nd 1940 The Trout in the company of the
USS Triton (SS-201) headed for the Panama Canal, After transiting the
canal the two ships refueled at the Navy base in San Diego before heading
to Pearl Harbor, the home base of the Pacific Fleet. Both submarines
arrived at Pearl Harbor on the 4th of August
Trout’s skipper, was Lieutenant Commander Frank N. Fenno, a
native of Westminster, Massachusetts. He was a 35 year old Annapolis
graduate and had volunteered to be in the Navy’s submarine service
because it looked like the fastest route to promotion. Fenno knew the
Trout’s systems from the inside out because he had studied the Naval

Architect’s plans after getting a set from the Bureau of Ships.
The Trout’s temporary Executive Officer, Kit Maxon was a Naval
Academy classmate of her skipper and had been assigned in Kittery along
with the rest of her crew. Although they were classmates they didn’t know
each other very well. On the way San Diego they became better acquainted
in the Trout’s confined spaces. Most of the rest of the crew were old timers
in the Submarine service with 15 or more years aboard older boats. When
they reached San Diego Maxon departed the Trout and boarded the his
new boat the Triton.
Captain Ed Cole was driven to the pier where the Triton and Trout
were tied up. He requested permission to board Trout and was standing on
the deck asking to see the skipper when a sinewy officer in casual uniform
walked up. and saluted Ed. “Lieutenant Commander Fenno Sir. I am the
commander of this ship. What can I do for you?”
“I just came back from Manila on leave and I’m trying to get back
there as soon as I can. I figure if I can get as far as Pearl I’ll be able to get
the rest of the way.”
“That sounds good. Any experience with subs?”
“That’s what I do for a living. I’m captain of the USS S38. Have been
since she joined the Asiatic Fleet. She’s old,and she leaks, but I like the old
lady in spite of all her shortcomings.”
“Fenno grinned. “Have I got a deal for you. I just lost my Executive
Officer and we’re leaving for Hawaii today. If you’re willing I’d like to sign

you on.”
“I’d give my bottom teeth to find out all I can about your vessel. She
looks brand new. Of course I’ll sign on.”
Lt. Commander Fenno was personable but every one in the ship
knew that the Trout’s mission was uppermost in his mind. With all the
experienced hands aboard everyone settled in and quickly got organized in
small groups to study the boat’s new systems.
They made good time to Pearl Harbor traveling at 12 knots. The new
diesel engines were marvels of technology compared to their older cousins.
With a top speed of 20 knots on the surface Trout was designed to keep up
with the fast new carriers and battleships. Even though the crew quarters
were cramped, the living spaces were far better than in the previous
vessels largely because the Trout was air conditioned. Bunks in the
forward torpedo room were hung over the torpedo tubes. Food was
excellent by submariner standards with deep freezers accessible from the
galley. The whole point of this luxury had it’s practical reasons for being.
The idea was to make the new fleet class subs relatively comfortable so
long missions would leave the crew less stressed and tired.
In Pearl Harbor Trout conducted training exercise with SubDiv62
until the 29th of November 1941 when she left on a simulated war patrol
off northern Midway Island. Fenno had orders to run submerged from
0500 to 1800 each day. On the morning of December 7th they received
word of the Japanese attack on Hawaii. That night they observed two

destroyers shelling Midway. Trout was about ten miles away and Fenno
ordered them to go at the enemy ships at full speed. Everyone was
disappointed because the two ships retired at flank speed and disappeared.
They continued their patrol and returned to Pearl Harbor arriving on the
20th of December five days before Christmas.
Angier Trout was frustrated. Every day he read the reports in
Newspapers that were filled with what was clearly misinformation. He
continued his daily trips to Pearl Harbor and wrote lengthy reports on the
salvage operations that he sent to the President by wire. At the end of a
long and tiring day he returned to his hotel and was given a message to call
Commander Layton.
“Colonel Trout you’d better pack your seabag in a hurry because the
navy is going to take the army for a ride.”
“How soon are we leaving?”
“Can’t tell you over the phone. It’s not secure. Pack tonight and
check out from your hotel early. Get here by 0500. We can get some
breakfast and I’ll introduce you to your ride.”
“Thanks, I’ve been chomping on the bit to get away. I am tired of
reporting the same information to the White House everyday. I doubt if
anyone is even reading it anymore. See you in the AM.”
Layton, Fenno and Ed Cole were looking over some charts of the
Pacific when Angier arrived.
“You ever ridden in a Submarine Colonel?” Fenno asked.”

“No. But I am looking forward to the experience.”
Commander Layton tells me you work in the White House.”
Angier laughed. Well it would be more accurate to say that I work in
a converted clothes closet in the White House.”
“Good. Then you’re used to being in small spaces.”
“Here, Colonel Trout take a look at how far you are going,” Ed Cole
said.
“Angier looked at the chart and smiled, “All I can say is I’m glad I
didn’t fly there. If you run low on aviation fuel out there and have to ditch
the plane how in the world would anybody be able to find you? When are we
leaving?”
“As soon as our orders are cut by NAVCO and we load our cargo of 3
inch anti-aircraft shells for the boys on Corregidor. We will be stuffing
3,500 shells into the boat so we’ll carry only one torpedo in each tube. It
shouldn’t be long before we get underway. In the meantime let’s get you
settled in and introduce you to the crew.”
Angier Trout, carrying a small sea bag, was welcomed aboard by the
respectful crew who had been told in advance that he was the son of a U.S.
senator. One of the crew had been stricken by appendicitis on the patrol to
Midway and he was taken to the hospital. A shift in quarters occurred and
Angier was given a bunk just off the officer’s ward room.
It took longer than any one expected for naval operations to cut and
issue her orders. They called for them to get as far north as they could and

stop at Midway to refuel. After topping off her tanks and making some
minor repairs at the island they departed on January 16th. As they
approached the Japanese held Bonin Islands Commander Fenno gave the
order to submerge, and traveling under water they slid by the islands
undetected on the 21st.
The Trout was lying submerged off Corregidor on the 3rd of
February. She stayed submerged until night fall. At 7:45 they
rendezvoused with a PT boat and ten minutes later were following the PT
boat’s wake through the mine fields surrounding Corregidor. Standing in
the conning tower Fenno said, “Damn this is really hard. It’s pitch black
tonight We can’t keep up to that boat and still make all these turns if we are
going this fast. This ship is not 77 feet long.”
By 8:34 PM the Trout was moored to the dock on her Starboard side.
Six minutes later the crew began passing the shells up the hatches one by
one and unloaded them on the dock.
Meanwhile Angier Trout interviewed senior staff about the situation
in the Philippines in a meeting chaired by MacArthur’s aide Sid Huff. Five
minutes into the conversation Angier quickly decided that the situation
was terrible. When the interview was over he was told by Sid Huff, that the
General wanted Angier to pass on a few words for President Roosevelt.
“The truth, as you may have guessed is not good. General Homma
has three Divisions in the field. Our intelligence people believe that that
Homma’s troops are battle hardened troops who’ve fought and gained

experience in the China campaigns. Frankly we are trying to fight a war
with Filipino conscripts who are inexperienced and badly equipped.
General Wainright is a good commander and he has a corps of men who are
Filipinos called the Scouts. These are disciplined, well trained and tough
men. The problem is General Wainwright doesn’t have enough of them.
“So what do you need? The President and General Marshall will need
a list of priorities so the right things get done.”
Huff pulled a list from his pocket. “Medicine and surgical supplies.
We are out of Quinine and Malaria has shown up in over half our men.
Every one is on 1/2 rations. The troops are so undernourished many of
them have developed Beriberi. We only have food for a month and we’re
going to have to cut the rations again soon. And of course ammunition is
also a priority. We need heavier artillery. The Jap planes have destroyed so
much of what we had that we are dire straits on that score.”
“Obviously there is only so much we can bring in by submarine,”
Angier said, “As you know Manila is roughly 8,500 miles from the west
coast. The need to follow a zig-zag course to avoid Japanese subs could
triple the miles to get here. There is already a shortage of shipping and we
need naval escort to make sure our transports get here. How long does the
General think you can hold on for a relief convoy to arrive?
“I’m not really sure. General MacArthur talks as though the
situation can be handled. That’s for public consumption. But he looks more
worried and desperate with each passing day. Things have gotten so bad

that he hates to visit the front because can read the desperation in
everyone’s eyes.
“Okay. If you can loan me a typewriter I can write a report and send
it by radio to the President. It will need to be coded of course. But it is a
confidential message for Mr. Roosevelt’s eyes only.”
“Colonel Trout I can have a typewriter in here 5 minutes. All I have
to do is give the order and it will be delivered. Our radio men all have top
secret clearances so coding won’t be a problem.”
Sid Huff returned with a Filipino steward carrying a typewriter.
“Here’s my own personal machine. I had Sargeant Acosta here put a new
ribbon in it. It’s my last one.”
“Thanks. Oh. I have a question. Is there anyway to get in and out of
here besides in a submarine?”
“It’s possible to get away by seaplane but it’s very risky. I personally
wouldn’t chance it if I had a choice.”
“I was here in Manila years ago with my father. I’d like to go into the
city. I have fond memories of the place.
“I wouldn’t chance it. The criminal element is out stealing things and
beating citizens and raping any woman they find on the street.”
“That’s too bad. Manila is a beautiful place.”
When Trout was unloaded she floated high on her hull lines and
Commander Fenno asked if there was any rock or sand to take on as
ballast. While they waited for an answer they loaded Trout with torpedoes.

Word about the ballast came down. The defender’s of Corregidor needed all
the sand and rock available to make repairs to their fortress.
Lieutenant Commander T. C. Parker, the naval aide to Commissioner
Sayer, came down to talk with Commander Fenno. “How much ballast do
you need?”
“The ammunition we brought weighed close to 25 tons. We’ve
rearmed with torpedoes but we need at least that much weight to put down
in the boat.”
“I have an idea. Give me some time and I’ll make a call to try and
solve your problem.
Parker called the High Commission office and asked the night
operator for the number of Sergio Osmena, Vice-President of the
Philippines.
“Sir, I am sorry to be calling you so late but we have a serious
problem here on Corregidor. A submarine came in tonight to unload
ammunition for our defense. Now that it’s empty of cargo the submarine
needs ballast to leave. I remember we talked about what to do with
government’s gold. We may be able to ship it out as ballast and the
submarine can carry it to the U.S. for storage.”
“Okay I’ll make some calls. How soon do we need to decide?”
“As soon as possible. The Sub needs to be away well before dawn. If
the Japanese spot it in the morning it will be destroyed at the dock.”
Fifteen minutes later Osmena called back. “We are all in agreement

with your plan. Commissioner Sayre and I will come over as soon as we can
get there. Go ahead and start moving the gold. Just make sure someone
responsible keeps an accurate count.”
The gold bars were passed one by one down into the lighted interior
of the Trout and placed in the bottom. Three hundred and nineteen gold
bars were taken aboard. They weighed approximately seven tons. The rest
of the ballast was made up of nearly 700 bags of silver pesos. By 3 AM on
the 4th the treasure had been loaded. Fifteen minutes later Trout got
underway and was guided out through the minefields. Three miles out she
submerged in a predetermined spot and lay on the bottom in 150 feet of
water. Waiting for night fall the crew got a well deserved day of rest after
working two days and nights without sleep.
Angier Trout lay in his bunk thinking about the situation on
Corregidor. He couldn’t see how the military services could realistically do
anything about relief for the defenders on Corregidor. It’s a terrible shame
said to himself. Shortly after he drifted off to sleep.
Just after dark a small patrol boat carrying a case of securities and
some additional diplomatic mail pulled along side. “Are there any
additional passengers who need to get away?”
“No. We need everybody to help in the defense. Lt. Commander
Parker threw Fenno a small bag of gold nuggets. These are for you. Thanks
for everything you’ve done.”
An hour after surfacing the Trout was on its way to the South China

Sea with gold and silver worth ten billion dollars. Commander Fenno
followed his orders to continue on his war patrol. Two days later Trout
made contact with two enemy war ships but was unable to get in position to
fire torpedoes. Then a Japanese freighter sailed into range. Trout fired a
two torpedo spread and the explosions that followed resulted in flames fore
and aft. Ten minutes later the ship sank.
It was time to head for Pearl Harbor. No more contacts with the
enemy occurred on the way home. Two days out of Pearl Harbor Fenno
received a radio message from the USS Litchfield, a destroyer that had
been sent out to escort the Trout to Pearl Harbor. The two ships met at sea
and the Litchfield accompanied the Trout home. On March 3rd, Trout
moored port side to the USS Detroit at the fleet base in Pearl Harbor. The
crew of the Detroit watched in amazement as the Trout’s crew handed over
the gold bars. The Detroit carried the bars to Alameda Air Station in San
Francisco Bay where armored trucks picked up the cargo and transferred
it to the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco.
Ed Cole received orders to rejoin the remnants of the Asiatic Fleet in
Australia. He obtained a ride on a new fleet submarine with a range of
10,000 miles. When he reach Darwin he found S-38 lying in the mud near
the entrance to the harbor.
Angier Trout went to Moffat field and caught a C47 back to
Washington. He was exhausted and his uniform hung on his frame. He’d
lost 30 lbs on the trip. He slept three days and then reported back to work.

The buzz around him at the office felt strange.
He was called into see the President and when he saluted the
President said. “At ease Colonel. You’ve done a terrific job. General
Marshall will be here in a few minutes. Sit down and tell me about your
trip.”
“Sir, I don’t know where to start. So much went wrong, and then
went right it’s hard to know where to start.”
“Well, the U.S Treasury is happy. We’ve got ten billion dollars that we
didn’t have before you went out there.”
“I can’t take credit for that Mr. President. Commander Fenno of the
USS Trout pulled off a miracle.”
“You said in your message that things were pretty bad on
Corregidor.”
“Yes. I told General MacArthur’s people not to expect us to get any
relief there in time.”
General Marshall came into the oval office. Angier get up to salute
but before he could Marshall took his hand and said. “Welcome home
Colonel. Please stand at ease I have something for you.”
Marshall pulled a box out of his pocket. And opened it before handing
it to Angier. Inside were the stars of a Lieutenant General.
Roosevelt said, “As Commander in Chief of the armed forces of the
United States I have the very great pleasure of promoting you. General
Trout you are a credit to the army and the country. Congratulations.”

Chapter 33
No Good News
In the Spring of 1942 there was rejoicing on the streets of Tokyo.
After weeks of suspense and the extreme jingoism expressed in the
country’s newspapers, the news of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the
success of the strikes south, were greeted with jubilation in Japan. Except
for a few sober thinkers, the people of Japan bounced back from the self-
pitying psychology that their government had done so much to engender.
They were all tigers now, thirsting for the blood of their enemies.
* * *
Under heavy clouds and rain the Japanese submarine I-56 cruised
the Gulf of Siam looking for an enemy target. Captain Kondo had been
looking through the periscope for 20 minutes when he left the eye piece
and checked his chronometer. It was 1:43 PM, December 9th the day after
the attack on Pearl Harbor. So far it had been an uneventful day.
Kondo looked again and through the mist he could see the clear
outline of a battleship steaming at top speed, far faster than the I-56 could
go underwater. Then an accompanying destroyer hove into sight.
“Dame da, big trouble. Radio the presence of enemy ships in the area
steaming north at speed.”
The radioman on the I-56 sent the message repeatedly without
raising any response.
“Captain, the weather is so bad we cannot get through to anyone.”

“Keep sending. We must get through.”
In Saigon, across the Gulf of Siam, Rear Admiral Matsunaga Sadaichi
believed that the British warships were at their base in Singapore.
Intelligence sources were sure that two battleships and four destroyers
were still in port. Two reconnaissance planes had just returned from
Singapore with rain streaked pictures of what appeared to be a big ship.
The I-56, on the surface now, was still transmitting. Finally the
report was received in Saigon. While Klaxon’s sounded, the flight line
erupted with activity. Torpedoes were loaded on the bombers and armed.
Engines warmed up they were ready for take off. Rumors were flying and a
group of Army officer came to the ready room to watch the briefing. At
dawn, as each plane took off people on the ground shouted “Banzai.”
Thirty minutes after the planes left Saigon the Japanese radio
operators heard a radio signal from a ship in the Gulf. It was Vice Admiral
Tom Phillips aboard the Prince of Wales, a new British battleship. Japanese
naval intelligence had heard the report from “Force Z of the coast of India
when the aircraft carrier accompanying the battleships and a destroyer
screen of four ships.
‘WE HAVE MADE A WIDE CIRCUIT TO AVOID AIR
RECONNAISSANCE AND HOPE TO SURPRISE THE ENEMY SHORTLY
AFTER SUNRISE TOMORROW, WEDNESDAY. WE MAY HAVE SOME LUCK
TO TRY OUR METAL AGAINST SOME JAPANESE CRUISERS OR
DESTROYERS IN THE GULF OF SIAM. WE ARE SURE TO GET SOME

USEFUL PRACTICE WITH HIGH-ANGLE ARMAMENT, BUT WHAT EVER
WE MEET I WANT TO FINISH QUICKLY AND GET WELL CLEAR TO THE
EASTWARD BEFORE THE JAPANESE CAN MASS TOO FORMIDABLE A
SCALE OF AIR ATTACK AGAINST US. SO, SHOOT TO SINK.’
Force Z was following a zig zag course to avoid contact with
Japanese submarines. The weather did not improve much over the next
few hours. At 8:56 PM it was announced that three enemy planes had
discovered the Force Z and they would be returning to Singapore.
“Wot the ‘ell. First time we get a chance to shoot down some Japs
our skipper turns tail.” The grousing below decks was going on all over
Force Z.
The three planes the lookouts on Force Z had spotted were allied
planes. Due to the terrible weather they hadn’t seen Force Z. Admiral
Phillips was reading a message from Singapore that the Japanese were
reported as landing at Kuantan. Checking the chart, the Prince of Wales
navigator reported. “Admiral, Kuantan is approximately half way between
Kota Baru and Singapore.”
At 12:20 AM Force Z changed course and headed for Kuantan. When
they reached their objective the sea was empty of ships. On a zigzag course
they continued to look for Japanese transport ships. At 2:10 AM December
10th a Japanese submarine I-58 spotted the British force and maneuvered
around and fired six torpedoes at the twenty five year old Repulse and
retired. All six missed their target and no one aboard Force Z ships knew

they had been spotted. I-58 radioed it’s position repeatedly getting no
response.
At dawn, a look out saw a suspicious looking tug trailing four barges.
“Look out to bridge. There is a tug boat and 4 barges off the port bow.”
Escorted by three destroyers now that the destroyer Tenedos, low on
fuel had headed back to Singapore, Prince of Wales and Repulse headed
towards the tug at 9 AM.
Three groups of Japanese planes totaling 96 high level and torpedo
bombers and ten search planes flying since early morning looking for the
British ships had given up hope of finding them and turned towards Saigon.
Then at 10:15 AM one of the search planes saw three destroyers and two
battleships through the clouds. Fifteen minutes later the search plane
made radio contact with the commander of the Kanoya Air Group. It’s
three squadrons changed course.
Lieutenant Iki Haruki leader of the nine plane squadron number 3
“Champions of the Navy” sat up in his seat and signaled his flyers to follow
him. Flying at 10,000 feet he saw a bi-plane that could only be British duck
behind a cloud. Lieutenant Iki pushed the stick forward and started down
with his squadron behind him.
Genzan Air Group got the same message, Lieutenant Takai Sadao
leader of the 2nd Squadron banked north-northwest followed by the 1st
Squadron. A strange feeling came over Takai. Then he remembered that
before take off his commander had said, “Calm down. Put your strength in

anata no naka, your stomach.”
The Repulse was zig zagging a half mile behind the Prince of Wales.
At 11:05 the loudspeaker announced, “Enemy Aircraft approaching.
Enemy Aircraft approaching. Action stations!”
A file of nine planes approached from the south. Suddenly a cloud of
bombs filled the air. There was a dull thump followed by a ship wide
shudder. “Fire on the boat deck. Fire down below.” Men were running in
every direction. For many long minutes complete chaos reigned. Then a
bugle sounded. “Stand by for anti-aircraft firing.”
From high in the air the Prince of Wales looked like the Japanese
battleship Kongo. The two squadrons of Genzan Air Group swept down
toward the big ship. Lieutenant Takai looking through his binoculars felt a
shudder of fear run through his body. “It looks like the Kongo.” His
observer answered over the voice tube. “Can it be the Kongo?”
Takai leveled out at 1,500 feet. It was not the Kongo. He turned
sharply aside and ducked behind a cloud. After banking around in a 360
degree circle he was a mile and a half from the target. “Do you see any
enemy fighters? There must be some.”
“No Sir. There aren’t any I can see.”
Takai’s squadron regrouped behind him. “Okay, let’s make a torpedo
run.”
Takai led his nine plane group down in a steep file. They launched
their torpedoes and climbed sharply upward. The observer, looking back,

said. “We all missed! How can that be?”
The Repulse, despite her 25,000 tons and her age, had zig zagged
just in time.
“Did you see that. Those little brown blokes laid down the most
beautiful spread I’ve ever seen.”
The Prince of Wales was not as lucky. The first bombs knocked out
her two port shafts and her rudder was loose and flopping back and forth.
Admiral Phillips had ordered “Ship out of Control” balls be hoisted.”
Captain Tennent, standing on the bridge of the Repulse radioed
Admiral Phillips. “Admiral, what damage have you sustained?”
There was no answer. The Prince of Wales was listing 13 degrees to
port and weaving back and forth at 15 knots. Captain Tennant radioed
Admiral Phillips again.
‘WE HAVE DODGED NINETEEN TORPEDOES THUS FAR, THANKS
TO PROVIDENCE. ALL DAMAGE CAUSED BY ONE BOMB HIT IS UNDER
CONTROL.’
The Prince of Wales didn’t answer so Captain Tennant radioed
Singapore.
‘ENEMY PLANES BOMBING.’
It was now a few minutes past noon. Within minutes six Brewster
Buffalo fighters took off headed to Force Z. Tennant kept signaling the
Prince of Wales. There was still no answer. He reduced speed to just over 15
knots and angled on a course to get close to the now clearly damaged

battleship bearing Admiral Phillips and his crew, hoping to offer assistance.
“Look out to Bridge! Look out to Bridge. Enemy planes approaching
bearing 045 degrees.”
It was a nine plane squadron of torpedo planes from section 3 of the
Mihoro Air Group. It’s leader, Lieutenant Takahashi Katsusaku spotted the
ships and made the same mistake Lieutenant Takai had made. He thought
they must be Japanese ships. He was still wondering when anti-aircraft
fire surrounded his plane. He dived at the Prince of Wales when he saw the
Admiral’s flag. The the big ship turned away and Takahashi swung towards
the Repulse only a mile away. He approached the target from a low angle
almost at sea level and his squadron spread out behind him followed. He
was 3,000 feet away, estimated the speed of the Repulse by it’s bow wave
and gave the order to fire. He pulled up to pass over the Repulse but the
plane did not respond as usual.
“Sir, I pulled the release but the torpedo did not drop.”
Takahashi looked down. He was so low he could see sailor lying on
the deck of the big ship. He knew then that the weight of the torpedo was
affecting his plane’s response.
“Okay, let’s go around and try again.”
He banked sharply and came in on the other side of the Repulse. He
made three passes but even with a pull on both the forward and the rear
seat releases the torpedo refused to drop.
His squadron had scored one hit. The Repulse was listing to port.

Takahashi and his observer were very disappointed. To spend all day, fly
this far, to have some simple mechanical malfunction spoil your effort was
inexcusable.
Lieutenant Iki’s nine plane squadron dropped out of the clouds at
1,300 feet and there below were the targets. Ack-Ack blossomed all around
his plane. His instinct was to pull away but discipline took over and he
headed even lower until he was 125 feet off the sea. He flew in towards the
ship in heavy fire. The release was perfect. Iki had scored a perfect hit in
the rear of the Repulse. The rest of his squadron was not so lucky. The
plane just behind him was hit and exploded in a ball of fire. The next plane
in line dropped a wing and cartwheeled into the sea. As Iki climbed in a
steep circle he waited for his six remaining planes. He watched as there
were three explosions.
The big ship veered crazily. Iki’s hit had disabled her steering. She
was taking on water from two immense holes in her port and starboard
forward flanks. The Repulse was doomed. Captain Tennant gave the order
over the intercom to prepare to abandon ship. “Men you have fought the
ship well. Never forget it. God bless you all.”
With a 70 degree list it would not be long now. On the bridge Captain
Tennant told his officers, “Well Gentlemen you had better get off her now.”
He was going to follow tradition and go down with his ship. Several of his
officers carried him bodily away from the bridge and they all dropped into
sea.

With her forward waterproof bulkheads gone the water poured aft.
Her bow lifted out of the water like a jagged rock, and the Repulse rolled
over and slid beneath the sea at 12:35 PM. From the air the red lead
painted bottom indicated how big she really was. 25,000 tons of steel
costing millions of British pounds had been demolished by a few planes.
The Japanese pilots, stunned by her demise began to understand
that the future of naval warfare would be vastly different in the future, and
the Japanese Navy was on the cutting edge.
Prince of Wales, hit by 4 torpedoes was a doomed ship. She was
barely moving when a flight of high level GM-3 medium bombers freshly
dispatched from Saigon arrived over the stricken ship. At 12:40 PM the
bombardiers released a shower of bombs. The 35,000 ton ship took one
direct hit. It was enough to finish off the Prince of Wales. The decks were
awash when Captain Leach gave the order to abandon ship. While Captain
Leach and Admiral Phillips stood on the Bridge they waved to the men.
Captain Leach call out “Good-bye. Thank you. Good luck. God bless you.
It wasn’t long. At 1:20 the huge ship keeled over to port and sank
beneath the waves carrying Captain Leach and Admiral Tom Phillips with
it.
By the time the Buffalo fighters showed up there wasn’t a single
Japanese plane in the sky. Hundreds of struggling men in the water waived
a thumbs up at the Brewsters.
Tokyo Naval Headquarters contained some shocked senior officers.

How had it been possible to sink a modern battle ship with on the loss of a
few planes? Could all the planning for two new super battleships and the
cost of building them be, as Admiral Yamamoto said, a waste of time and
money?
All but one. Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku, after accepting the excited
congratulations of his junior office, was not fooled by the news from the
Attack Force, and the victories being reported from a dozen other places.
In his command post on the battleship Nagato he bore a sober demeanor
that masked his supreme worry. The timing of the attack on Hawaii was
the first disaster that had fallen over his beloved navy on that fateful day.
The diplomats had not delivered their message rejecting the US proposals
for peace before the bombs started falling on Pearl Harbor. He knew that
US commanders would be furious. Stung by the attack they would regroup
and pursue him until a supreme battle was joined. Nagumo’s mistake in not
carrying the attack to the US Navy’s oil depot at Pearl Harbor was a
disaster for Japan. Would his fleet be ready when the retaliatory American
blow was struck? So far the forces under his command had succeeded in
sinking undefended capital ships with torpedoes and bombs. He and Genda,
and his aviators had been right, ship based air power was a potent
offensive weapon. The Japanese Navy’s sinking of the British battleships
Prince of Wales and and Repulse, off Malaya, had seemed easy, but only
because they were undefended by a screening force of aircraft carriers and
smaller ships. Admiral Yamamoto knew in his heart that the American

squadrons that would soon be coming would not be such easy targets. He
told Captain Watanabe, “Japan is like the hornet which has stung the
buffalo into a rage. We have not yet killed the beast. If we are only hornets
we cannot kill him.”
Manila
Caleb Bingham had been up all night. Now, he was languishing in a
tepid bath after spending the first half of the night at party in the Manila
Club. Before the party started he drank and played cards all afternoon
with his friend, Captain Allison Ind, intelligence officer, for General Lewis
Brereton, commander of the Army Air Force in the Philippines. He met
Brereton at one point during the party and congratulated the man on his
birthday. The pilots were a loud, unkempt, and rowdy bunch, and Caleb
asked Ind why they were so scruffy. “Oh, they’re on strike,” Ind said, “A lot
of them are pissed because their stay in the islands has been extended and
they want to go stateside and get back with their wives and girl friends”
“Not very professional is it?” Caleb said.
“They’re spoiled rotten,” Ind said, “Sixteen of the B-17s and the
crews were sent down to Mindanao to a new airstrip on the Dole Plantation
last week. You should have heard the bitching and moaning about the fact
that they have to live in field tents and that there isn’t any Officers Club
down there.”
“No wonder, Brereton is so drunk, he’s got a reason. I still think the
man is a dipsomaniac.

“I don’t agree. The man is badly disappointed. In any case he’s our
only Air Force leader;” Allison said.
About midnight, just when he’d decided to go home, Caleb Bingham
met Rosalie, the aristocratic daughter of the Peruvian Consul. She was tall,
with slender legs, ample hips and magnificently large breasts, all of which
culminated in gloriously abundant jet black hair framing a pretty, if not
spectacular face. What fascinated Caleb was her pronunciation of English.
She had a peculiar lisp that made her seem simple-minded when in fact she
was not. Certainly not in his bedroom where she’d cleverly made
mincemeat of his plans for a restful night. He was almost not up to her
extravagant sexual demands. Adding the alcohol he’d consumed at the
party, he was very nearly a wasted wreck by the time she entered his bed.
Almost.
Caleb was in the process of adding hot water to his bath when the
night guard, who spent his evenings between rounds, in the kitchen
listening to the radio, came running in. “Senior! Senior! It is on the radio.
The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. It’s on the radio.
Senior, Don Bell, the KZRH announcer is telling all about it.”
“Bring me the phone, Eduardo,” Caleb said, “Then tell the cook to get
me some coffee and breakfast up here pronto.”
His dislike of General Richard Sutherland, General MacArthur’s
Chief of Staff was such that he hesitated to call the Army. He thought for a
moment and then decided to dial Admiral Hart’s office. He liked and

respected Hart; considered him a straight shooter, who wouldn’t bother to
bullshit a civilian like himself.
“Caleb Bingham for Admiral Hart.”
“Sorry, Sir, the Admiral is in a meeting.”
“I know that! For Christ’s sake give me someone over there,” Caleb
said.
There was a brief pause, and then Captain White came on the line,
“Caleb, all hell has broken loose. The Japs bombed Pearl Harbor at 07:30
hrs. Honolulu time, this morning. Battle ship row was hit by a brick, and
Hickam and Wheeler field were pounded. They caught the whole fleet,
except the carriers, inside the harbor.”
“So, the radio report is true then,” Caleb said, “What’s happening
here?”
“It’s pretty confused. The Army’s radar machine caught sight of a big
wave of enemy planes coming from the direction of Formosa, then they
dropped off the screen. Admiral Hart guesses we’ll be in for it later today.
Right now we’re trying to alert all units and figure out what to do. I guess
the Army is doing the same.
“Have Admiral Hart give me a call in the office. I am at home right
now and will leave here in a few minutes. I should be there in 20 minutes.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“No, I’ll call Commissioner Francis Sayre at home, and alert him.
Talk to you later.”

Caleb called Sayre at home so seldom that he couldn’t remember the
telephone number. He called the night duty operator at the US High
Commission Office and had her patch him through to Sayer’s home. The
phone rang several times and a maid came on the line. “Commissioner
Sayer’s residence. Mr. and Mrs. Sayer are not at home. Can I help you.”
“Lucy, this is Caleb Bingham. Do you know where they are?”
“They are coming home from few days in Baguio this morning, Mr.
Bingham. I expect they’ll be here any time.”
“Have Mr. Sayre call me at my office as soon as he gets in,” Caleb
said, “Its very important. Have him call me.”
Caleb felt his ire rise as he considered the news. God Damn it!
Wouldn’t you know we’d be caught at the switch when the big one hit! He
could only imagine the result of an air attack on the navy’s ships and the
air force installations in Hawaii. What the hell were the army and navy
doing in Honolulu? It wasn’t like there hadn’t been repeated warning from
Washington about the situation in Asia. Even he knew the negotiations
between the Japanese and the United States had been going nowhere and
that war was imminent. He hurriedly dressed, swished his mouth out with
mouthwash, and called for his chauffeur. There was little traffic on the road
to the office, but excited groups of Filipinos were gathered on street
corners talking over the news. When he arrived in the parking compound
at the rear of the building a marine guard had been posted at the gate. His
driver identified himself to the guard who saluted as they drove through

gate. “Well, at least the Navy’s got some sense,” Caleb said to his driver as
he got out of the car.
Groups of excited employees were gathered everywhere in the halls
of the building. “Get these people back to their desks,” Caleb shouted, “Get
back to your work, everyone. Go to your desks and sit down.”
“Maria, first get me some coffee, then try and get General MacArthur
on the phone.”
Minutes later Maria came to his office door. “I’ve got Colonel
Sutherland on the line. General MacArthur is not available. Would you like
to speak to the Colonel?
“Yes, let me talk to him.”
“Richard, this is Caleb Bingham. What’s going on over there?”
“Yes Sir, Sutherland here. You’ve heard about the Japanese
attacking Pearl Harbor?”
“Yes, of course. What’s the situation here in the islands?”
“We’re waiting for instructions from Washington, Sir. We’ve been
ordered not to fire first. General MacArthur is waiting until we are
attacked. Our bombers are ready to attack the Jap airfields on Formosa
anytime we have permission, or are attacked.”
“Permission! God Damn it! What the hell are you talking about
man!” Caleb yelled, “The Japs have bombed Pearl Harbor. We’re at war!
You people can’t just sit on your hands and wait for Washington to issue an
order!

“General MacArthur is considering all options, Mr. Bingham. We will
do our duty. You can depend on it.”
“You’d better do more than your duty,” Caleb said, “Have General
MacArthur call me when he gets off the pot!”
Caleb Bingham was furious. He disliked both MacArthur and
Sutherland. They were both filled with themselves, and pompous asses to
boot, he reckoned.
President of the Philippines Manuel y Molina Quezon sick with
tuberculosis was slowly dying. High Commissioner Sayre was a shy
buttoned-up Bostonian Lawyer who was married to Woodrow Wilson’s
youngest daughter, Jessie. He had never displayed any talent for politics or
administration for that matter, and he certainly didn’t fit in President
Quezon’s circle of friends. How he’d ever been appointed by President
Roosevelt to run the Philippines, Caleb couldn’t begin to guess. He was also
pacifist, which in Caleb’s eyes made him next to useless in time of war. Yes
Sayre was a write-off. The pressure would be on Caleb Bingham. He knew
that instinctively. He had always thought of himself as a command type
executive slated for a position of high responsibility and he was ready for
it. Now, what was to be done first?
Lock up all those Jap spies that Clarence Yamagata had discovered
with his registration papers! He called the Provost Marshal General at
MacArthur’s office and talked with Colonel Craig Weatherby.

“Craig, the Army Counter Intelligence Police have a list of Japanese
people we need to round up. They are all either members of the Japanese
armed forces or are military reservists. Not all of them are spies but we
can sort that out latter when we have them all in custody. We don’t have
any time to waste.”
Caleb then phoned Clarence Yamagata, “This is a sad day, Clarence.
I’m sorry. This must place you in a funny position.”
“It’s extremely troubling Caleb, I can’t deny that. I never imagined
that war would ever breakout between Japan and our country, but I’m a
loyal American. With that said, you can count on me to do what ever is
necessary to help you out.”
“I knew you’d be with us.” Caleb said, “As I see it we are going to be
short of competent language people. We’re going to need all the translators
and interpreters we can get.”
“There’s a young Japanese American guy I’ve been using to help
with all those questionnaires we put out. His name is Sakamoto, Richard
Sakamoto,” Yamagata said, “Maybe we can get him to help. Then there’s
my wife; she’s gotten pretty good with the language. She’ll be able to serve.”
“Good, I’ve already called the Army Provost Marshal and told him to
start rounding up all the Japanese foreign nationals on our list. Can you
think of anything else we need to do.”
“Not off hand. Let me think on it and I’ll call you back.”

Maria was at the door again,.’Mr. Bingham, Admiral Hart is on the
line.”
“Admiral Hart, Caleb Bingham here. How’s the situation?”
“Not good, Caleb,” Hart said, “I expect the Japanese to attack by air
anytime now and we haven’t got a single air craft carrier in the whole
Asiatic Fleet. Without air cover our ships will be sitting ducks for Japanese
planes. The only thing I can think to do is withdraw my ships south, then
come back with submarines to take on the invasion convoys from Formosa,
or where ever, when they arrive.”
“Can’t MacArthur’s Air Force pick up the slack? Caleb asked.
“Between you and me there’s no love lost between the Navy and the
Army. Mac’s going to be so busy covering his own ass that I doubt we’d get
any cooperation at all. I can’t depend on it, so I am busy devising my own
plans for the fleet’s survival. Of course the bulk of submarine squadron can
stay, and harass the hell out of the Jap convoys when they get here.”
“Jesus, that’s terrible news, Admiral. I just talked to Sutherland over
at Mac’s office. He said they were waiting for permission from Washington
to defend themselves I couldn’t believe what the man said.”
“MacArthur’s been way out there for a long time, Caleb. I don’t know
how he’s going to bear up under all the responsibility he’s got. I barely
know Sutherland, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Two of a kind, I’d say,” Caleb said, “Well, I’ve already issued orders
to round up all the Japanese nationals we can lay our hands on, as of this
morning.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that,” Hart said, “Reminds me to make sure
security is tight at Cavite Station, and our other facilities. That’s all we
need right now is to have a bunch of enemy agents and saboteurs start
causing trouble.”
“How soon do you think your ships will be getting underway?”
We’ll try to get out of here right away,” Hart responded, “We’ll see
how the day goes. Keep your fingers crossed.”
“You the same.”
Damn, Caleb thought as he hung up, if the Navy can’t hold the line
how can the Army do it alone. Not good news! Things are going to get worse
a lot worse.

Chapter 34
The Philippines Invasion
After a lengthy argument in Tokyo, General Homma had agreed to
execute the invasion of the Philippines according to a plan devised by
Colonel Tsuji Masanobu and the staff officers of the planning Unit 82 on
Formosa. The drafting of the plan was the last thing Tsuji had completed
prior to his departure from Formosa to join the invasion forces headed for
Malaya. It was not, as General Sugiyama, Army Chief of Staff, pointed out,
so very different from General Homma’s own plan, and it had the
advantage of already being approved by Tenno, Hirohito himself.
Still disgruntled, General Homma flew to Formosa to oversee the
assembly of the Philippine invasion force at the southern end of the island.
What he found when he got there did not displease him. The navy and the
army had been practicing together for months. Admiral Yamamoto had
made good on his promise of providing what fighter planes the Navy could
spare air cover for the invasion by placing what fighter planes on airfields
in Formosa. The navy’s longer-range dive-bombers, and heavy level
bombers, those capable of making the long flight to central Luzon and
return, were plentiful enough to reassure him. His other big concern, the
amphibious deployment of his army through the surf at the Lingayen Gulf
landing point, was assuaged somewhat by the various sizes and types of
landing craft the navy planned to deploy. He particularly liked the Type I
landing craft. It was 15 meters long with a 3 1/2-meter beam. The navy

captain who showed it to him pointed out the two .25 caliber machine guns,
the bow ramp, and the diesel engine big enough to propel the craft at 8 to
10 knots fully loaded. Since surprise was the essence of the attack plan, the
vessel’s speed seemed like a very good thing. The meeting between the
various task force commanders and Homma was also reassuring. Most of
them were just as apprehensive as he was about fighting the United States.
Homma had more than enough of the fire breathing young officers who
couldn’t wait to rush out and die in battle. The men at the top of the
Philippines task force were more sober, plenty stalwart, but not foolhardy.
He admitted to himself that Tsuji’s plan was much like his own, it
provided for a preliminary aerial softening up of the American air bases in
central Luzon. Once air superiority had been established the invasion was
to involve sharp pronged surprise attacks at a number of places. One group
would attack the big southern island Mindanao at Davao from Palau.
General Homma’s main thrust would be the on the beaches of northern
Luzon. This is where, after securing a beachhead in the Lingayen Gulf, he
would go ashore and establish his command. Other surprise strike forces
would land at Aparri and further south at Legazpi on the East Coast of
Luzon. Later, a force would land at Limon Bay. The plan was a cautious one
that would gradually see the perimeters drive towards Manila, and the
surrounding American installations.

At this moment, General Homma was standing on the bridge of the
Vice Admiral Takahashi’s flagship peering into the dense fog that lay over
the sea from Formosa to the beaches at Lingayen Gulf.
“Muzukashi, des ne. It’s difficult,” Takahashi said, “You can barely
see 50 meters.”
“Yes. I wonder about our air attacks,” Homma said, “Will they be able
to take off if conditions are like this on the airfields.”
“This fog will surely lift later on. I wouldn’t worry about our pilots
they will take off as soon as it gets light. In any case, our ships may not
make the expected landing point at Aparri on time. We must move slowly
under these conditions.”
“Since we will not be giving away our planned invasion sector by
bombarding the coast, this fog may give us even more surprise.
“I agree. It always pays to be optimistic about these things. These
conditions are the same for the Americans. There’s no point in staying up
here and straining our eyes. Let’s go below, have breakfast, and wait for
this fog to lift.”
General Douglas MacArthur was deep in sleep in his penthouse atop
the Manila Hotel when Richard Sutherland called. “Yes. MacArthur here.”
“Sutherland here, General. I hate to disturb you Sir, but we’ve just
received information that Pearl Harbor and the army installations in
Hawaii have been attacked by Japanese planes.”

There was a grunt, then a long silence. “If that’s true, I don’t see how
it could have happened. That should have been our strongest point.”
“I am afraid the report is true General. We haven’t had confirmation
from Washington yet, but all indications are that it is true.”
“I’ll get dressed and get some breakfast. Meet me in the office.”
Ten minutes later MacArthur’s phone rang again. “This is the
operator. I have a call for General Douglas MacArthur. Is this General
MacArthur?
“Yes, MacArthur speaking. Who’s calling?”
“It’s a long distance call from the Unites States, sir. A General Gerow
is on the line from Washington.”
“Please put him through. Leonard is that you. What the hell are you
doing calling me now. It’s 3 AM here. Is this about Pearl Harbor?”
MacArthur sat ashen faced as he listened to the Army’s Chief of War
Plans, General Leonard T. Gerow, gave him a brief summary of all that
Washington knew of the disaster in Hawaii. “Mac, this is the biggest
disaster we’ve ever faced. Half the damned fleet’s been hit hard, and the
airfields were all blasted, our were planes smashed on the ground. I’m
sorry to have to tell you this but that flight of B-17’s you were to get have
been all but wiped out over 30 planes.”
“What about the Japs. What are they doing?

“All indications are, that they are going for Thailand and Malaya. I
expect you’ll be attacked in the near future. For God’s sake Mac, don’t let
your guard down. We’re in this thing for sure now. Good Luck.”
Stunned, MacArthur put the phone back in it’s cradle and stared
down at the floor. Suddenly he felt old, and used up, the energy drained
from his tall gaunt frame. He’d known war was coming. Had believed that it
would. But now it seemed impossible. It was too soon, much too soon. He’d
told people it wouldn’t come until at least April, next year. He dressed
slowly and put on a new tie. Then he reached into a dresser drawer and
pulled out a small double shot Derringer pistol he’d had for years. He
checked the chambers and found that they were empty. He made a mental
note to have Sutherland get him some ammo. Then he put the weapon in
his pants pocket. He looked around the room, and his attention fell on his
mother’s leather bound Bible. He walked over, picked it up, read a few lines,
and knelt down next to the bed. He said a prayer, then slowly rose to his
feet. No matter what happened he wouldn’t let the Japanese capture him
alive. He knew instinctively that somewhere, in the skies over the South
China Sea, a menace was forming up that would blast all his predictions
about the coming of the war to smithereens.
General Lewis Brereton sat dumfounded as he listened to Richard
Sutherland tell him that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor beginning
at 7:55 that morning, Hawaii time, and that a state of war existed. “You say
the Air Force was caught on the ground at Hickam and Wheeler. Jesus

Christ! How did that happen.”
“We don’t know. General MacArthur has asked me to remind you
that we can’t let that happen here.”
“No way, Jose. I am going to get those planes in the air. NOW.”
General Lewis Brereton was a fair pilot, an affable man, liked by his
men in a social way, but his personal traits made him a questionable
commander. He was self-indulgent. Worse still he suffered from an ever
present lack of ability to decide. More importantly, he’d never flown in
modern combat before, his last service in war being in 1918 when he
commanded an observation squadron during World War I. He had objected
to sending B-17s to the Philippines while he was still in the States. Even
before he got to the Philippines, a month before on November 3, he knew he
needed airfields to house the pursuit planes to establish an air defense
against the Japanese planes that everyone imagined would be coming.
When he saw General George S. Marshall and General Hap Arnold before
leaving for the Philippines they told him that sending fighters and bombers
together was a calculated gamble. When he got to the islands he focused out
what he knew to be true. His Philippine Air force was far from ready for
war. He and his men had been racing against time. Mac thought war was at
least six months away. Well, Brereton didn’t know if Mac was right, but
he’d worked to put some fire under the groups under his command. It had
been an uphill battle all the way. No one, least of all he, wanted to work
very hard in the oppressive heat and humidity of central Luzon. By noon

everyday, he was tired and ready to take the whole afternoon off. He loved
the camaraderie of an Air Force pilot’s life in the Philippines. Most of all he
loved the parties and the drinking. He knew most people drank too much.
He sure as hell did. Now, everything had changed. They were in it, and he
woke up scared.
The mere act of putting on his uniform changed that. When Brereton
looked in the mirror he realized that he wasn’t as scared, as he was
concerned that his precious planes not be caught on the ground. In a calm
voice he issued instructions to his G-3, Charlie Caldwell, and his Chief of
Staff, Colonel Francis Brady. “You have to move quickly on this. The whole
damned shebang went up in flames in Hawaii when the Japs caught our
planes on the ground. Tell the guys to get their boys in the air. Just don’t
get caught on the ground what ever you do.”
The US Army and Navy commanders on Luzon waited. What would
happen next? The answer was not long in coming. That same morning, on
the 8th Admiral, Hirose Shigeru landed almost 500 men on tiny Batan
Island from Bashi Channel. Shots were fired but the landing was bloodless.
The locals sent a message to the main island, but whether anyone in the US
Command heard about, or if they heard it, was it believed? The Japanese
planned to build a tactical airfield on Bataan, but before the end of the day,
events elsewhere made the original intentions pointless.
On the previous night, December 7th, just as General Homma was
boarding Admiral Takahashi’s flagship for a visit, a famous infantry

battalion from the China War, the Tanaka Detachment departed Mako, a
port in the Pescadores. The Tanakas had been assigned fast ships capable
of between 12 to 14 knots, and by very early morning the next day, on the
8th, had almost gotten to Aparii on Luzon’s North East Coast. A cover of
aircraft from bases in Formosa flew out of the fog, arriving over the convoy
just as it prepared to land its troops. As Homma and the other Generals
had feared all along, a stiff wind was blowing on shore, and heavy surf was
pounding the beach. The first wave of landing craft headed in. As they
approached the beach, several heavily loaded boats overturned in the
waves, and the troops found themselves in the water, struggling to stay
alive. Admiral Hara halted the embarkation of the second wave of troops.
Only two companies of the Tanaka battalion actually made it to shore
where they met one company of the US 11th Infantry Division. A firefight
broke out, and the Japanese troops were pinned down in the dunes unable
to move forward, and with no way to withdraw.
Cape Engano lay some 20 miles east. The Japanese commander
quickly made a decision to move the troop transports to a place opposite
the village of Gonzaga where some protection from the offshore winds lay
in the lee of the point. In the time it took to move the transports east, the
American commander on the beach had telephoned headquarters to report
the invasion. Answering his appeal for help, General Brereton, ordered two
squadrons of P-40 fighters and five B-17 bombers from Clark Field to sortie
to the coast at Gonzalez.

The Tanaka Battalion troops of the second wave were already on the
beach when the American fighters roared in across the coast and strafed
them. Then the B-17’s arrived and began dropping their bomb loads on the
ships below. Admiral Hara immediately ordered the convoy to jettison their
crates of ammunition and fuel oil barrels in hopes that they would float
ashore or could be towed in by the landing craft. Hara’s covering warships
were in a parlous position because their own planes from Formosa had
already left to return to base. Screaming orders, the ship’s commanders
fled the scene leaving the helpless convoy ships to discharge their troops
and fend for themselves. American bombs hit the Japanese minesweeper
#19. The depth charges on her deck blew up, and the ship went down by the
stern. Then it drifted on shore, a total wreck.
The bulk of the Tanaka troops managed to struggle ashore, but the
heavy equipment the Japanese engineers had intended to build an airfield
with, was still aboard the ships. Never mind. The ships could return later to
unload. The battle hardened Japanese troops moved out quickly and
engaged the outnumbered American defenders. The battle for the
Philippines had begun.
Nielson Field, Headquarters of the Far East Air Force, was located
few minutes south of Manila by air. It housed the Army Air Forces AWS
plotting board’s huge map. It was also the command site General Brereton
preferred. Colonel Caldwell, finally reached Colonel Eugene Eubanks,
Commander of the B-17 Squadron at Clark field, a few minutes after 0400

hrs. He relayed the Pearl Harbor information to Eubanks and then hung
up. Eubanks turned to the three officers who shared his room and said,
“Well, here it is boys. This is what we’ve been waiting for. The Japs have
just bombed Pearl Harbor. Brereton wants me to fly down to Nielson as
soon as I can. Let’s get the staff together and sort things out before I leave.”
At the staff meeting Eubanks told his B-17 pilots to get their planes
ready for a long planned photo recon trip to Takao Harbor on Formosa.
“You know the drill, boys don’t arm the planes with bombs until we get
some idea of what we will be doing. It’ll be safer that way in case a stray
Jap plane decides to fly in here and shoot up the place.”
At the Nielson AWS Center, Just before 0500 hrs., a call came in
from the Radar site at Iba. “Sir, there’s a big group of unidentified airplanes
headed towards the coast at Lingayen Gulf.”
“Stay on top of ‘em, For God’s sake don’t loose track!”
“It’s got to be a flight of Japs from Formosa,” someone said when the
report was plotted on the big board.”
“Notify Nichols to get as may pursuit planes in the air as fast as they
can,” Colonel Caldwell ordered.
The pursuit pilots of the 21st pursuit squadron had already
scrambled on what was apparently a false alarm at 0230 hrs. By now they
were back on the ground and sound asleep again. The duty officer, Lt. Lloyd
Coleman, burst into the officers quarters; “Wake up, Wake up,” he yelled,
“Get your clothes on. Pearl Harbor has been bombed.”

Lt. Sam Grashio jumped out of bed and was throwing on his clothes
while he listened to Coleman’s orders. “Start your engines and stand by on
the radio.” The pilots headed for their new P-40E fighters. Some were so
new the cosmoline packed around their weapons for the long sea voyage by
freighter to the Philippines, still was still clinging to the guns. After a
former American freighter, now flying the Panamanian flag arrived in
Manila on August 7th carrying planes and 1,000 tons of munitions it had
been a struggle to get the planes ready to fly. Some of the engines arrived
without the coolant they needed to work properly. Oil leaks had plagued
the maintenance crew for weeks. The hangers were still littered with the
packing crates the dismantled planes had arrived in. By some miracle of
persistence, and incredibly hard work, the squadron had planes ready to
take off. The roar of their engines warming up pierced the night silence for
the second time.
At Nielson, the big plotting board showed two converging flight lines
as the 3rd Pursuit Squadron from Iba flew in the direction of the planes
coming down from Formosa. The lines crossed, and then there was
nothing. It looked as though the Japanese flight had turned back to
Formosa, but by some great fluke, the American fighters had flown right by
the Japanese who were at a different altitude several thousand feet higher.
This was only the first screw-up of what was going to be a very long day for
the US Air Force in the Philippines. Sam and his fellow pilots of the 20th
were ordered to shut down their engines and wait. Later that night he told

a friend, “we cut our engines, got out of the cockpit, sat under the wings,
and just waited.”
Only a few days before, Major General Jonathan “Skinny”
Wainwright, following General MacArthur’s orders, had taken command of
the North Luzon Force at Fort Stotesenberg, adjacent to Clark Field. In
doing so he had acquired responsibility for 4 Philippine Army Divisions,
and also had command of the 26th Cavalry Regiment consisting of a few
American Officers, including Lt. James, a small complement of American
enlisted men, and nearly 800 trained Philippine Scout cavalrymen. He had
been so busy trying to get on top of the demands of his new command that
when he did get in bed every night he’d fallen into a curious kind of
dreamless sleep. He was deep in the arms of Morpheus when the phone
rang in his quarters “General Wainwright, this is Colonel Erwin.”
“Jesus! Pete, what time is it?”
“0425, General. I’m calling to tell you that Admiral Hart has just
received a radio message from Admiral Kimmel, Pacific Fleet commander
at Pearl Harbor, informing him Japan has initiated hostilities.”
“Christ! What happened?”
“Details are still sketchy but it looks like the Japs pounded hell out of
our Fleet, and all but wiped out our Air Force on the ground.”
“The hell you say,” Wainwright said, “OK I’ll alert my people.”
Wainwright jiggled the phone. “Operator get Johnny Pugh for me.”
“That’s Colonel Pugh, sir?

“Know any other Pugh around here,” Wainwright barked.
“Johnny, the cat has finally jumped. Get your ass over here.”
Ten minutes later Wainwright was standing in the shower when the
phone rang. “This is Colonel Erwin again, General I thought you’d like to
know that some details are coming in. Pearl Harbor really caught it. Battle
ship row was really hard hit, and Hickam air base was heavily bombed.”
“Appreciate the call, Pete. I guess this means we’ll be next. Keep in
touch. If anything happens in my ballpark, I’ll call.”
At the Manila Hotel, United Press Correspondent Frank Hewlett was
going nuts trying to find out what had happened at Pearl Harbor, and more
to the point, what was going on in the Philippines. He decided to call his
friend Lt. Barley. At 0427 he reached him What’s going on,” Hewlett said.
“You tell me Frank. You probably know more than we do.”
“All hell as broken out in Hawaii. There’s been a heavy attack on all
army and navy installations it’s very bad there.”
“It is the Japs then?”
“Yeah. The Japanese Navy.”
“You do know more than we’ve been able to find out,” Our guys
scrambled this morning early but it was a false alarm. Everyone came back
and piled into bed again. We just got a call from Headquarters a few
minutes ago.”
“Okay Barley, sorry to bother you. I’ve got to go. I have a deadline for
a story to the morning papers in the states. I’ll be in touch.”

General Douglas MacArthur sat at his big desk with his feet up and a
pipe in his mouth. His pipe didn’t help him collect his thoughts as it usually
did. At this moment his mind was a jumble. He closed his eyes and tried to
pick out one thing from all the thoughts that were racing through his mind.
What was it his father had said those many years ago, when the young
Douglas MacArthur had accompanied, General Arthur MacArthur, Jr., on a
trip to the Far East? “The Devil is in the details, son. Concentrate on the
details and you’ll be okay.” He got to his feet and with pipe still in his hand
he began pacing the room, talking to himself. Occasionally he gestured as if
explaining something to a non-existent audience.
A Few days before, he’d tried to buck up the President of the
Philippines, Manuel Quezon, a worry-wart, and a whiner to boot, who was
panic stricken over the possibility of an invasion by Japan. “Douglas, those
people are such brutal animals, if they come here they will tear apart the
fabric of our society and culture. We’ll be worse off than the Koreans.”
MacArthur, in a kinder and more ebullient mood than he usually was
with Quezon had said, “Don’t worry old friend, we’ll defend the islands
everywhere necessary. The Japanese will get what they have coming to
them. You can be sure of that.”
Now MacArthur was regretting his words. Manuel Quezon was a fool.
He thought nobody could figure out that he would sell out the Filipino
people in an instant if he could be assured of keeping his own power. His
trip to Japan last year had been exploratory all right, but had the

Japanese been a little cleverer President Quezon would have jumped to join
their New Co-Prosperity Sphere in Asia, in an instant. There was no way in
hell all of the Philippines could be defended. A determined enemy could
invade at hundreds of places, and MacArthur knew he could not begin to
defend them all. The obvious places? Yes, Lingayen Gulf was one such
place. Manila? He didn’t think so. It was too well defended, and Corregidor
stood like a defensive keystone in the ring of gun emplacements that
surrounded the bay. The one thing he did depend on was the Air Force. He
didn’t much like Brereton who had not followed orders to move his
bombers to Mindanao, but he was the commander of the whole Air Force
shooting match so he’d better make do with what was. MacArthur wished
for a moment that he still had Ike Eisenhower around. Ike knew the
strength and weaknesses of the Filipino forces better than anyone did.
Major General Jonathan Wainwright was a colorful character, a loyal
officer, and a good field commander. He could be counted on in a fight.
Everything else was a blur. Can’t be seen to be indecisive, MacArthur
thought. I’ve got to think things out. Fleeting thoughts about his own
condition and age crossed his mind.
General Brereton arrived at Headquarters shortly after 0500 hrs.
He thought that for sure he’d get MacArthur’s okay for a bombing mission
against shipping in Taiwan’s ports now that hostilities had been made
official. He immediately told Sutherland the Bomb Group had plans for an
attack on Takao Port’s shipping. “If we get there right away we can delay

any invasion of the islands for days, weeks, even months if we hit ‘em hard
enough,” Brereton said, “Just get the boss to give me an ok, and we’ll go get
those bastards.”
“Go ahead and make all preparations for the mission,” Sutherland
said, “Only, don’t leave until we’re sure that it fits in with our overall plans.
I’ll get back to you as soon as General MacArthur makes up his mind.”
Brereton figured the order would come quickly. He had his driver
take him back to Nielson Field to wait for the call. The sun’s rays were
streaming in through the car’s windshield by the time they drove through
the gate at the airfield.
As daylight broke over the Philippine archipelago, events raced
forward on the attacker’s schedule. Three planes from Formosa knocked
out the army radio station at Aparii. This left the American defenders
without any reliable way to contact their own headquarters.
Some 600 miles south, at the lower tip of Mindanao in Malalog Bay,
the seaplane tender USS William B. Preston lay at anchor near three
moorings where the Catalina PBY patrol planes of Patrol Wing 10 were tied
up. Admiral Hart’s war message reached Preston at 0340 hrs. Immediately
plans were laid to send one of the PBY’s out on patrol. The crew of the PBY
10 warmed up the engines and the pilot jockeyed the plane out on the calm
waters of the bay and started take off. Their destination was the outer
waters of Davao Gulf, a thirty-five mile stretch of blue water where they
would patrol looking for signs of the enemy.

The Japanese attack force from Palau, unknown to the Americans,
was cruising along the southern coast of Mindanao. The Japanese
commander, Rear Admiral Tagaki, on the carrier Ryujo launched 9
Mitsubishi Zero fighters and 13 Aichi D3A, “Val” dive-bombers, shortly
before dawn, and sent them to look for American ships at Davao. The
deadly force arrived immediately following the PBY’s takeoff. Diving on the
remaining PBY’s on their moorings, the Japanese planes blew both the two
helpless flying boats to smithereens, killing the lone lookout instantly. The
Preston made a run for it as the Japanese bombers flew in to finish her off.
The Preston was an old 4-stack conversion from a destroyer. She was fairly
fast given a good head of steam, and by virtue of some quick maneuvering
she survived unscathed except for the machine gun hits the Japanese
managed to score. Preston’s radio message sent in the clear, reached Hart’s
headquarters immediately. THE PRESTON IS BEING ATTACKD BY
BOMBERS AT DAVAO NOW.
There was nothing to be done except pray. Admiral Hart had no
resources he could bring to bear on the Japanese task force. He could only
hope that one of his submarines patrolling in the area could find them and
get in a lucky shot.
General Brereton was beside himself.

“What the hell are they doing over there,” he said to Colonel Eubank
who had flown in from Clark Field with Major Birrell Walsh in a B-18. “That
God damned Sutherland can issue the order. He just won’t. I’m going back
over there and try to put some heat on them.”
Nothing had changed when he got to Headquarters. Sutherland was
still maintaining a wall between Brereton and MacArthur. They had words.
Sutherland was intensely irritated by Brereton’s pressure. “God Damn it,
General, if you had moved those B-17s South to Mindanao, as General
MacArthur ordered you to do, you wouldn’t be over here trying to
browbeat me into giving you an order to fly off to some goddamn place on
Formosa that you don’t even know exists!” Brereton was devastated by the
tirade. Close to tears, he turned and left the building in a rage. He was back
at Nielson before 0800.
After washing his face and collecting his feelings Brereton spoke to
his commanders, “Well, we’re still all tied up gentlemen,” he said, “Let’s go
ahead and finalize our plans to do a photo reconnaissance over Takao and
the air bases on Formosa. We haven’t got a decent map of the place, and
absolutely no photographs.” Captain Ind entered Brereton’s office and
handed Colonel George a note as Colonel Eubank was asking Colonel Brady,
“Well, do I go now, or not?.
“Go, Gene,” said Brady. “Just photos. No bombs.”
Colonel George, who had been looking at Ind’s note said, “Air
Warning says a large flight of enemy planes are headed for the coast, and

possibly Manila. It won’t take long Gene. They’re definitely headed this
way.”
“We’d better get our planes up in the air. I’ll get ‘em off the ground,”
Colonel Eubank said, “We’ll stand by to get everyone up at a moment’s
notice.” Nobody in the room noticed the contradiction in what he said.
Major Dave Gibbs, group operations officer at Clark, had
simultaneously received notice of the approaching enemy flight from
Nielson, and had already ordered the big bombers into the air.
General Brereton was just saying goodbye to Colonel Eubank when a
phone call came in from California. “General Arnold is on the line, sir. Shall
I put him through?”
“Hap! Hap Arnold! How the hell are you, sir! I guess you’re calling
about Pearl Harbor.”
“Hello, “Bree” I’m at March Field just east of San Bernardino, in
California. I flew down here from Bakersfield. I was out for the weekend,
shooting doves with Don Douglas of Douglas Aircraft Company, when the
news came through. Look, I’ve been checking on Hawaii. The Japs caught
most of our planes on the ground. A few of our fellows got off and gave ‘em
what for, but in general it was a terrible thing that happened out there
caught most of our planes on the ground. For God’s sake make sure that
doesn’t happen in your bailiwick.”
“Yes, Sir. We’re scrambling our bombers as we speak, and we have
fighters in the air already. A big flight of Japs is headed for Manila right

now. General MacArthur’s been slow in giving us the go ahead to hit enemy
ports in Formosa but I expect he’ll come through with an order shortly.”
“Well, “Bree”, I wouldn’t change places with you right now for a
million bucks,” Hap Arnold said, “God Bless, and good luck. Oh, and Don
sends his best. He’s promised to build us all he planes he can.”
“It looks like we’re going to need all we can get out here General.
Thanks for calling.”
The dense early morning fog on Formosa had the fliers of the
Imperial Japanese army and navy deeply worried as they peered out of the
ready rooms at their all but invisible runways. If they were delayed too
long the intricate timing and logistics of the invasion plan Colonel Tsuji had
drawn up would go down the drain. Most worrying of all, the American’s
must know by now of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and surely would be
moving their planes to the southern Philippines out of the range of
Japanese land based fighters, and even beyond the Navy’s dive bombers.
The drain on the Navy, when Admiral Yamamoto had take 6 carriers for
the Hawaiian attack, left all the other elements of the combined fleet
without adequate carrier strength.
Finally, the army flight commanders at Heito could wait no longer.
They decided to take off in hopes that the ceiling would be low enough that
they could break out of the fog and find their way to their assigned targets
on Luzon. This force of 14 heavy bombers was the flight the American’s
picked up on its radar on their way down to Luzon shortly after 0810 hrs.

as the Japanese pilots found themselves in clear air over northern Luzon.
A second group of impatient twin-engine Japanese bomber pilots
were also airborne at Kato on Formosa at about the same time. Both flights
flew along together for a short time before one group broke East to hit the
airfield at Tugugaro in north central Luzon. The other continued on a more
southerly course to Camp John Hay, the American military base just
outside the summer capitol, Baguio. Some of this flight continued on to
bomb the airfield at Cabanatuan. The Bombers began raining death and
destruction at all three places shortly after 0900 hrs.
Where were the American defenders? This was the flight of Japanese
planes reported by the Radar team at Iba, that jolted Major Gibbs, and
caused him to order the B-17’s into the air. The report was so alarming to
Colonel George, that he scrambled the 20th Pursuit Group at Clark and the
17th Pursuit Group at Nichols to cover Clark in case it was the intended
target. The fighters were slow in getting off. Some had engine trouble and
others just plain weren’t ready fast enough. The anticipated intercept
junction was plotted to be at Rosales, some 60 miles to the north of Clark.
By the time the interceptors got there, the Japanese were nowhere to be
found. They searched for two and a half-hours to no avail, finally running
low on gas they landed to refuel. When they landed, a crew chief ran over
to Lt. Joe Moore, commander of the 20th, who was just climbing out of his
P-40. “What happened sir?”

“It was a feint. The fucking Japs ducked out on us and went
somewhere else. To the northeast, I guess. What’s happening with the
B-17s? Did they take off for Formosa?”
“Naw, they’re flying around up there trying to stay out of trouble.”
“No orders yet?”
“Nothing. Not yet as I understand it. I expect they’ll be coming down
soon for fuel, and some lunch. Nobody ate before they took off.”
At Nielson the commander’s and the plot operators had a pretty
clear picture of what happened. The Japanese flight was no feint. Bombs
had hit Baguio, 27 times. There were 7 killed. No reports of wounded yet.
Camp John Hay, the Army officers training site was the hardest hit. Three
B-10s were destroyed on the ground at Cabanatuan. No word yet on the
extent of the damage at Tuguegaro, but they knew it had been hit.
General Brereton was beside himself with worry over the B-17’s at
Clark. If the Japs put Clark out of commission there was no way his
airplanes could reach Formosa. The only other airfield big enough for the
B-17s to use as a base for refueling, rearming, and repairs, was too far away
to the south, on Mindanao. Now, with evidence that the Philippines had
been hit, he called MacArthur’s office. General Sutherland intervened
again, and flat out refused Brereton permission to fly a bombing mission
against Formosa. “Damn Sutherland, If the Japs beat us to the punch, and
Clark is hit we won’t be able to operate out of there.” Lewis Brereton
slammed the phone down in utter frustration. Evidently an irritated

Sutherland had not thought enough of Brereton’s request to press
MacArthur for a decision. Clearly Sutherland lacked the guts to give
permission himself.
At 1014 hrs, only 10 minutes later, Brereton got a call from
Sutherland. “Photos are okay.”
“What about the raid on the airfields and the port?” Brereton asked.
Then he listened in silence to Sutherland making excuses. After
Sutherland hung up, he pounded the phone into its cradle. “God Damn
him.”
Brereton looked at Colonel Eubank and grinned. “Gene, I’ve got an
idea that the old man’s considering what he wants us to do this very
minute. Why don’t you get back to Clark? This mission is going to fly pretty
quick unless I miss my guess.”
Only moments after Gene Eubank left, Brereton got another
telephone call, “MacArthur here. “Bree,” I haven’t called you before now
because I’ve been waiting to see how developments unfold. I don’t want us
to waste our resources chasing rabbits down holes. The Japanese could
well be building some fancy diversions to take us off the scent of the main
invasion. Now, you get your planes up there take some pictures, and then
give the Japanese a little of what they’ve been giving us. I leave all the
operational decisions to you. We’ve got our plate full around here. Let me
know when you decide what to do, and when you intend do it.”

The 11th Imperial Japanese Naval Air Fleet’s airplanes began
warming up on the tarmac at their bases on Formosa. Shortly after the fog
began to clear, and the anxious pilots finally got the green light to takeoff.
The flight was huge. In all 192 planes were pointed towards Clark Field,
and Iba Field near Iba Point. The Imperial Army Air Force added their
weight to the attack: 34 fighters and 54 bombers headed for Clark, and 50
fighters escorted 54 bombers with Iba as their target.
Captain Allison Ind was the first to realize that the wheels were
falling off the Air Force’s cart. As the intelligence officer, he saw the
collection of reports from the field as the key to finding out what was going
on in the various sectors, and deducing the enemy’s intentions. He pulled
two packing crates through the back door of the plotting room, and put
some boards across them to make a big worktable. Then he commandeered
the help of several enlisted clerks and civilian secretaries, and began the
collection and organization of the reports that were coming in. By the time
he had the effort organized, so much stuff was coming in that they were
hard pressed to keep up. Then the tempo picked up and the flood began. Ind
called for more help but there was no response. The plotting team was
fighting its own battle trying to keep the big board up to date. Then
suddenly the order came down that all civilian workers were to be sent
home. Some “Nervous Nelly” in the administration had decided that the
Filipinos couldn’t be trusted. Some of them might be spies. Allison Ind was
already losing his part of the battle and it was soon to get much worse.

Major David Gibbs, on instructions from Colonel Eubank, ordered all
the B-17 under his command to land for refueling and loading bombs. The
big planes had been circling Mount Arayat in a monotonous pattern for two
hours. Colonel Eubank arrived back at Clark at 1045 hrs. to find that two of
the B-17s had already landed. It took the better part of the following hour
before the last of them landed and were tied down in their service bays. At
1130 hrs the Teletype clattered out a message from Air Force
Headquarters. Finally the official, FIELD ORDER NUMBER ONE, had
actually appeared. Colonel Eubank quickly read it and summarized the
main points.
Two (2) heavy bombardment squadrons to attack known airdromes
on Southern Formosa at the latest daylight hour today that visibility will
permit two (2) squadrons of pursuits to cover the bombardment fullest use
of pursuits to insure safety of bombardment.
Subsidiary to the main message he read a list of the loads (100 and
300 lb.) bombs. Then an order for the two squadrons of B-17s at Mindanao
to fly in daylight today, land in Marcelino where the big birds could be
accommodated, and then make the 30 miles over to Clark, as soon as
conditions permitted that early evening. They were to be sent on a mission
to attack targets on Formosa the following morning at daybreak.
At Iba Field, on the northwest edge of Luzon, a small shack partly
buried at the end of the runway, housed the Air Force’s only working,
SCR-271 RADAR instrument, its antennae pointed in the direction of

Formosa. The exhausted crew manning the crucial device had been at the
oscilloscope for what seemed like endless hours. Suddenly a blob appeared
on the screen and grew steadily larger. Hundreds of planes were headed for
the Philippines. “Holy Shit? Would you look at that,” the excited operator
said, “have you ever seen anything that big on this thing before.” His
calmer buddy was already cranking up the field telephone to relay the
information to the plot group at Nielson.
The radar observer’s report reached Far East Air Force
Headquarters at 1140 hrs. As soon as the plot had been made on the big
map Colonel George and his two companions, Lt. Bud Sprague and Colonel
Alexander Campbell, realized there were two groups on the way one
heading for Iba, and the other for Clark or Manila. After hurriedly
consulting on what should be done, Colonel George decided on a
conservative defense. He sent 18 P-40s who had just finished refueling at
Clark to patrol over Bataan Peninsula and the entrance to Manila Bay. The
third squadron at Iba was to patrol over the Point, and hit the on rushing
Japanese flight when it arrived from the north. The 21st Squadron from
Nichols was to patrol between Cavite Naval Station and Corregidor. This
left the 20th Pursuit still on the ground at Clark. Only the 34th Squadron
of old, slow P-35’s based at Del Carmon 14 minutes south, was left to patrol
the skies over Clark Field. Campbell sent an order by Teletype to Major
Orrin Grover at Clark Patrol upper Manila Bay to intercept the planes
headed for Clark.

Colonel George scrambled 90 fighters. He tried to anticipate what the
Japanese might do. The enemy could, he realized, split their flight and
attack at several places. The problem was that the fighters patrolling the
skies south of Clark were over 45 minutes away and out of sight of what
might be taking place over Clark Field.
What he could not know, was that the Japanese were aware that the
Americans were planning a raid on Formosa. When the enemy flight
commanders realized that they would not get off the ground in Formosa on
time, they decided to hit Clark with maximum force to disrupt the
American plans for a raid.
Meanwhile, at Clark, Major Grover promptly panicked. He
procrastinated, unable to make up his mind about what to do. When he
finally acted he sent two of his three squadrons off to protect shipping in
Manila bay, holding his third squadron in reserve.
Then, a series of communications snafus promptly ruined any
attempt at coordination of the pursuit forces. The pilots of the 24th Pursuit
Group at Iba had been waiting on the runway for orders. They were still
waiting to take off. When the orders came from Clark HQ, Hank Thorne
took off with six planes and headed for Point Iba to stand guard. The other
two flights, under Ed Woolery and Herb Ellis were slightly delayed in
getting off the ground. Woolery was unable to find Thorne’s flight and the 4
planes of the Ellis flight, also lost, teamed up with Lieutenant Wollery as he
decided to fly south to Nichols and try to get a radio check. His radio was

apparently not transmitting a signal. There was heavy static in his
receiver. Then, on his wing, Andy Krieger heard a faint signal that
appeared to be a call to hurry to fly to Clark. They turned and flew back to
Clark but saw nothing untoward there and headed for Iba.
Nothing seemed to be going as planned. The 21st Pursuit Squadron
at Nichols received orders to take off. The 4 flights warmed up, and Captain
Ed Dyess went up, leading flight A. Once airborne, he radioed flights B & C
to follow him. Flight B successfully formed up with Dyess but some planes
of C Flight had engine trouble. After a short delay, they finally got off the
ground. Unable to locate flights A and B, they took off south to Laguna de
Bay, for a firing check of their weapons. Some of the guns were so new they
had never been fired before. “Jesus! My engine is pouring oil all over the
windshield,” flight leader Bob Clark yelled, I’ve got to get this crate on the
ground before the engine packs up.” Then another pilot reported the same
problem. “Grashio, you’d better take over,” Clark yelled as the two planes
peeled away. Sam Grashio radioed to the man on his wing, Joe Cole, “Ok,
Joey! Let’s check our guns in the water, then hurry up to Clark.” By this
time things were coming unstuck in a hurry. They arrived at Clark at 1220
low on fuel, nothing appeared amiss, so they headed west towards Iba. At
the same time, at Nielson, fear began to set in as the huge enemy formation
continued to move on Clark. Colonel George had not heard from anyone at
Clark so he asked Colonel Campbell to call the base. A junior officer came
on the line and said he would give the message about the rapidly

approaching formation of planes bearing down on the base, to the base
commander or operations officer at the earliest opportunity.
Then, disaster struck. At 1235 hrs., the 20th Pursuit Squadron was
on the ground refueling when ninety Japanese bombers and fighters
appeared over Clark Field. The Japanese pilots were astonished, and
delighted to see all the B-17s on the ground along side the P-40
interceptors that should have been airborne. Thirty minutes later every
plane including all B-17s at Clark were lying destroyed or damaged on the
ground. Grover’s hesitation in launching the 20th’s pursuit’s planes cost
the squadron 23 of its 26 planes. Four of its pilots died on the ground. Not a
single one of the 90 American planes sent into the sky had successfully
intercepted a Japanese plane. At Iba a flight of more than a hundred
Japanese planes wiped out the radar shack and shot down six of the P-40s
sent up to intercept them. The loss of Iba’s radar installation was a major
blow. Without it, the American air defense was totally blind.
As smoke boiled and billowed up from Clark Field in great columns,
news of the disaster was phoned to MacArthur’s Headquarters. When the
shock hit, the staff sat with their heads in their hands, in dumb disbelief.
When Sutherland gave MacArthur the news there was no response, and
finally MacArthur said, “Leave me alone for a few moments, will you
please.” He then called Nielson and spoke to General Brereton’s Chief of
Staff. “What on earth were you people thinking of? I gave an order that
those B-17s were to be moved to Mindanao. What am I supposed to do now,

court marshal the whole kit and caboodle of you.” He raged on for nearly
five minutes, and then with a shaking hand slammed down the phone.
From that moment on, General Douglas MacArthur knew that the
Philippines was doomed. Everything depended on his ability to buy time
until the US Navy had arrived in force to drive off the Japanese naval units
that would be supporting convoys bearing enemy troops to the islands.
Without the B-17s to harass and delay the Japanese invasion and attack
Japan’s depots of supplies and equipment on Formosa it was a very bleak
prospect, and without adequate air cover the American and Filipino forces
on the ground would be under constant attack by Japanese planes. He
knew that it had been like that in China with Chiang Kai-shek’s forces and
it would be no different here. As he slowly paced the room between his big
Chippendale desk and his library on the wall opposite his collection of
battle flags, a plan for the next few weeks took shape in his mind. It was
only a fleeting glimpse of a way to delay the fall of the Philippines to the
Japanese, but he knew in his bones that the place was basically lost. It was
a sorry pill to swallow after all the bombastic talk, and promises to defend
the islands; he’d been making for months before this day. Bitter gall rose in
his throat and left a terrible taste in his mouth.
At 1430 hrs., Brereton arrived at MacArthur’s office. He was on the
verge of a nervous collapse. He’d gotten another phone call from Hap
Arnold in California wondering what had happened at Clark. Why had an
entire force been wiped out? Brereton begged MacArthur to call Arnold

and explain. By this time, with his mind at rest over what he knew the
outcome of the battle would be MacArthur looked at Brereton and said,
“Don’t worry Lewis, just go back and fight this war. It’s far from over and
we have a lot to do. I’ll take care of Hap Arnold.
Then, MacArthur called Admiral Hart and asked him to come to his
office. In a quivering voice he told Hart of the losses sustained at Iba and
Clark. Hart told MacArthur that he planned to move his ships but that they
weren’t ready to move yet. “The next few days will tell the tale, Mac,” Hart
said, If I can’t save my ancient fleet there’s no relief in sight. Stark and
Turner will never risk sending their remaining carriers out here with a
troop and supply convoy, without surface ships to screen their
movements.”
After Hart left, Commissioner Sayre and Caleb Bingham arrived.
Sayre was visibly disturbed. MacArthur was not disposed to give him much
time. But, when Sayre asked, “What in the world is going on,” Mac read him
a telex from the War Department that listed all the ships sunk or damaged
at Pearl Harbor, and went on to describe the wipe out of the Air Force
contingent on Oahu. “Gentlemen we are at war. And, I can’t stress too much
how serious our situation is here in the Philippines. Today’s action at Clark
has seriously affected my ability to conduct operations against invasion by
the Japanese.”
Caleb looked over at Sayre and decided that the man was about to
break down. “General, I talked with Admiral Hart earlier this morning and

he indicated that his submarine force would be of considerable use against
the Japanese ships that they might use to land their forces.”
“I certainly hope he’s right, Mr. Bingham,” MacArthur said, “He
should know just about everything there is to know about underwater
warfare. He commanded our effort from Ireland in the Great War. And now
Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I have a war to fight. If there is anything
pertinent to civilian administration I will have General Sutherland keep
you informed. I recommend a partial blackout of Manila at this time.
“Wouldn’t a total blackout be better,” Caleb asked.
“Experience has shown that you can get a lot of people killed driving
on roads, and falling off buildings, that way,” MacArthur responded,
“Better to black out the more important buildings, and shut down traffic on
the bigger avenues turn the street lights out. If the Japanese decide to
bomb the city at night, then we should shut down the lights completely.
Good day gentlemen.”
Sayre’s eyes blinked rapidly as he fought back the urge to cry. He
mumbled his thanks, and then staggered out to his waiting limousine with
Caleb steering him along by the elbow. He was so distressed that he could
hardly speak. When they drove in the parking compound of the High
Commission building he managed to ask Caleb what time it was.
“5:45,” Caleb said, “I’ll give the staff instructions about the black
out.”
As they were getting out of the car, Sayre said, “I can’t believe it’s

come to this. I found Japan to be such a lovely and peaceful country when I
was there. And now, a war?”
“With all due respect, Sir, you might consider asking the folks at
Pearl Harbor, the Koreans and the Chinese just how peaceful the Japanese
really are. As for us, well, we’ve been at war with Japan for one whole day
now. I think you’d better get used to the idea.”

Chapter 35
Northern Luzon The Philippines
In the mountains north east of Manila Jim Casey followed the
Japanese civilian manager of Benguet Gold Mine. Sakata Saburo, up a
ladder out of a deep mine shaft. When they reached the top both men sat
down in the shade inside the mine entrance and took off their miner’s
helmets and gas lamps, and wiped the sweat from their brows.
“Well, as you can see this seam is about worked out. I’m thinking of
closing this shaft down permanently if the yield doesn’t improve in the
next few days.?
“That seems like a good idea,” Jim said, “It certainly looks played
out. No use wasting time and money. Where will you apply your resources
if you do shut it down?”
“I’d of shut it down last week if I had the answer to that question.
Problem is the mine owners are pressing me to get the production levels
up, but so far I haven’t able to figure out what do.”
They got up and went to the mine entrance. “Here comes my
assistant.”
A small Filipino man came walking up to them a few minutes later.
“Sakata-san, there was a phone call for you or Mr. Casey from a Mr.
Bingham. He said it was very urgent that he talk to either one of you.”
“Well that does it for today I guess. Let’s go down and call Mr.
Bingham.”

Tom followed the two men down the trail to the mine office that lay in
the valley below. He was bone tired after several weeks of climbing in and
out of the diggings at the Benguet Gold Mine site just north of Baguio. While
the mine looked pretty worked out he was suspicious of the production
reports on the lack of productivity of the mine, but without studying years
of reports and hundreds of daily reports it was difficult to tell how true his
assessment of the mine was.
There were so many ways of covering up what the mine was able to
produce. Even experienced mine managers could be wrong. Still the mine
did not look very promising. A careful study was the only way to tell what
was really going on.
When they reached the Mine Office Jim placed a call to Caleb
Bishop’s office. It was difficult to get through. After nearly an hour his call
went through.
“Tom is that you. What took you so long to get back to me?
“I was at the bottom of a mine shaft. We just climbed out and it took
me almost an hour to get through to you on the phone.”
“All hell’s broken loose here. Have you heard the news? The Japs
attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii just before 3 AM our time yesterday
morning. Raised all kinds of hell with the Pacific Fleet there. Our
battleships were all destroyed and cruisers didn’t fare any better. Then just
before noon yesterday, Japanese planes hit Clark Field and caught our
B-17’s and fighters on the ground. It was terrible. Our 1st line of defense

has been destroyed.”
“Good Lord! What happened today?”
“Not much really. There was a small attack on Nichols Field today
but apparently there is very bad weather at Formosa and the Japs can’t
fly.”
Formosa: Zero Pilot Sakai Saburo’s Debriefing
On Formosa an exhausted group of fighter pilots was being debriefed.
The questioning was severe.
“What do you mean you couldn’t fly? We can always fly. Explain
yourselves. Pilot Sakai speak up.”
Yes Sir. The weather was so bad after we took off we couldn’t see
ahead. Our bombers never took off. We made it to our target where we shot
up a couple of planes on the ground. The rain was incredible. It lashed at
our planes in the worst rainstorm I have ever seen. It must have been part
of a hurricane. Swirling masses of clouds drove us down to just above the
ocean. We split up into groups of 3 planes each group fighting to get back to
base. Swirling groups of clouds force us to the Ocean’s surface. We were
forced to fly at a height of 15 to 20 yards. The water was a fearsome sight.
It lashed at our planes with incredible force. It was the worst rainstorm I
have ever encountered. We had no choice but to fly at this low altitude. My
wingmen hugging my tail, desperately trying not to loose sight of my plane.
We fought our way northward, our fuel gauges dropping lower and lower.
Finally,.after what seemed like countless hours, the southern tip of

Formosa broke through the clouds. We circled through the downpour until
we found an Army air base near the coastline and with barely enough fuel
for our approach we set down on the muddy runway.”
“Yes, thirty other fighters came in before you. However, three other
fighters made forced landings on a small islet near the Army field. You
realize why we might doubt your story.
“Yes Sir.”
Northern Luzon: Benguet Mine Office
“How about Tomorrow?” Jim Casey Asked.
“Nobody knows what to expect. Our intelligence depends on flights
over the Jap airfields in Formosa. MacArthur is acting paralyzed and the
Air Force guys are shell shocked. They haven’t been able to get flyable
B-17’s and P40’s in the air from what I hear.”
“What about the Navy?”
Admiral Hart is the only calm and collected military officer around.
He’s planning to take his surface ships over to the Dutch oil fields to help
defend the place. Without air cover its suicide for a surface fleet. The Japs
have taken out two British battleships from the air on the east coast of
Malaya. It’s not good news anywhere.”
“What about our submarines?”
“Cavite Naval Base has been all but wiped out. Two sub support ships
were sunk and the whole base is on fire. Admiral Hart and MacArthur have
been having major fights over what the Asiatic Fleet should be doing.

So far Admiral Hart has been shouting the General down. Here’s a
direct quote.
“I am not going to sacrifice my ships and men to some cockamamie
plan to wait for ships to get here from Hawaii. Ships that, as far as I know,
haven’t even left port yet.”
General MacArthur keeps going on about “Military Honor” and “The
glory of the service.”
“What does General Marshal say?”
“We are still waiting for his reply. He said he’d get back to us.”
“Are we going to win or what?”
“God only knows. Our Air Force guys are busting their balls to get
planes back in the air. General MacArthur did finally authorize raids on
Japanese ships and planes in Formosa but who knows if they will be able to
get through. So far the Jap pilots and planes are ahead in the air war. Their
bombing accuracy is amazing and their new Zero fighter plane is so far
more than a match for our new P40’s. Everything is just the reverse of
what we predicted.”
“That’s what Captain Kang was warning us about. He said that the
Japs have hours and hours of real combat practice in China in better
planes than anything we’ve seen so far.”
“Yeah, it so far it doesn’t look very good.”
“Look, there must be some way I can help.”
“Yes. That’s why I called you. General MacArthur thinks that whole

of North and the Eastern side of Luzon can’t be defended. He’s sending Lt.
James with a patrol of Philippines Scouts up there to find you. He asked if
you could help James and his troops blow up bridges, ferry docks, and
anything else of value along the route to Manila. Just commandeer the
dynamite and anything else you need from the Benguet Mine up there.”
“Yes, I know Lieutenant James. We met him with you that first time
at Fort Stotsenberg. At the Polo match do you remember? On whose
authority will we be acting?”
“The Philippines Commonwealth, and the U.S. Army. Lieutenant
James will be bringing you an official order. He’ll show it to you when you
meet up.”
“I hate to sound defeatist. But that’s a pretty tall order. There are
hundreds of little bridges and culverts on the road to Manila. Even with an
experienced crew it would take a hell of a lot of time and material to do a
decent job”
“That’s the same thing Lieutenant James said. I suggest you and he
get together before you start back down and look at a map of the highway
to plan things out. The only thing you can do is figure out what places
should be blown and do the best you can. I am no expert in the demolition
field but, well hell you know your business. Just do the best you can with
what you have. That’s all anybody can ask. Just don’t blow yourselves up
trying to do a good job.

You guys are both too valuable to loose on what could be a
meaningless task. Just keep your eyes open for Jap planes and don’t get
shot up.”
“Okay. I’ll make good use of the time before Lt. James and his
troopers get here. I’ll get the mine guys to give me a hand. There are some
mules here to carry the dynamite and other stuff we’ll need. I suggest that
we meet Lieutenant James at Fort Hayes at Baguio. It will save some time.
What do you want me to do with the Mine Manager and the other Japanese
workers here?”
“Put Sakata on the line. I’ll tell him to do exactly what you say. When
you get to Camp Hayes you can decide what to do with them. If you want
the Military Police can take them into custody. I’ll call Camp Hayes and tell
them you’ll be coming in.”
“I am going to need some of the Japanese workers who are familiar
with dynamite, and Sakata-san to help with blowing things up.”
“Do you think Sakata may be a spy? There are all sorts of rumors
going around that there is a Jap spy under every rock.”
“I’ll ask him if he is willing to help us. He can ask the workers? If
they are willing I’ll use them. The last thing we need is to have any of the
Filipino Scouts blowing themselves up because they haven’t been trained in
demolition.”
“Yeah. Sakata seems like a genuine guy. Do what ever you decide.
James and his troopers can keep an eye on them.

Put Sakata on the line if he’s there with you. If he’s not there have
him call me.”
To a man, every one of the Japanese said they would help Jim.
Sakata explained. “We are loyal to our Company and to America. Most of us
have been here for over 20 years. We all have families here now. Many of us
are married to Filipina ladies. Nobody wants to go back to Japan and leave
our wives and children here. They can’t go with us because they are
Filipinos. Besides,.when we left Japan we never expected to go back there.”
It took several hours to saddle the horses, and round up enough
mules to carry the dynamite, blasting caps, detonators, electrical wire and
other supplies to Camp Hayes. The lead mule, a gray animal with large
brown eyes and a pleasant snicker of a call, followed Jim’s horse out of the
Mine Headquarters corral down the trail to Baguio. Her bell made a
tinkling sound and the rest of the mules got in line and followed her signal.
Sakata-san and his men followed the mule train on horse back and talked
excitedly in Japanese.
It was just after midnight when they reached the Camp Hayes
stables. They had been challenged at the Camp Hayes gate by a small group
of guards that manned a .50 Caliber heavy machine gun located behind a
revetment made of logs and a meager earthworks. The whole scene had a
surreal look and Jim had the feeling that the troopers on duty had no idea
what they might be guarding against. Jim thought they looked silly in their
World War I steel helmets.

A young Filipino officer on night duty escorted Jim Casey and his
party to the barracks where they were to stay after the mules had their
packs removed and the demolition materials they brought were under lock
and key. Because it was so late, Jim decided not to talk with anyone about
the Japanese and their situation until the next morning. Everyone looked
exhausted and they were all soon asleep.
Lieutenant James and his squad left Fort Stotesenberg a half an
hour after they got their orders. It was just before noon when they rode
out. The orders directed them to get to Camp Hayes on the double so they
moved out at a brisk trot. It was a punishing way to go but the Filipinos
were superb horsemen and had practiced fast movement this way many
times during their training. Each man carried emergency rations in the
form of dry rice and a mix made of dried pounded roast pork with dried
mango, pineapple and nuts. It was an old staple of the Filipino’s food in the
field, and the men were capable of extended periods of field operations with
the addition of rice cooked over an open fire. They traveled all day and
night stopping along the way to water their mounts in streams crossing the
road. The plan was to arrive at Camp Hayes the next night well after dark.
Clark Air Field
December 10th dawned hot and hazy from the smoke of the still
burning fires at Clark Field. A flight of B-17s was expected in from Del
Monte in Mindanao during the early morning hours. In anticipation of

their arrival a flight of P-40 fighter planes were readied to provide cover
for the bombers. The plan was for the fighters to take off from Clark’s badly
damaged runway at 0500 to greet the arriving planes. In the darkness and
the dust kicked up by their props a stiff cross wind carried smoke and haze
across the runway. The first fighter hit a bomb crater and the pilot lost
control of his plane. It cart wheeled across the runway and smashed into a
parked B-17. On impact there was a bright flash of flame and a violent
explosion. The B-17’s ruptured fuel tanks sprayed burning gasoline all over
the runway and the loaded machine guns on the plane. .50 caliber machine
gun started pouring out bullets that blanketed the area. Both planes were
destroyed and the fighter pilot was killed. Moments later three more P-40s
crashed on takeoff. It was a complete cock up that proved completely
unnecessary because the B-17s from Del Monte never arrived.
Radio contact with Del Monte was impossible because the radio
shack at Clark had been destroyed the day before. The commanders at
Clark Field had no way of knowing that the bomb group at Mindanao had
no intention of arriving in the morning. Instead of heading for Clark, six of
the B-17s, each loaded with 20 one hundred pound bombs, were diverted to
fly against an enemy aircraft carrier that had been reported off the south
east coast of Luzon. As one pilot observed, “Using one hundred pound
bombs against an aircraft carrier is like sticking an elephant with sewing
pins.”

From the beginning equipment failures plagued the planes that
managed to take off on assigned missions. When they actually engaged the
enemy their machine guns jammed or the bullets were duds and failed to
go off. Radio communications were non-existent, because their radios were
broken, and on the ground the crews lacked the qualified personnel to fix
them.
At 0800 after working furiously to fix the runway two B-17s
managed to take off on separate missions. Lieutenant Carpenter and crew
took off to take photos of the Japanese airfields on Formosa but had to turn
back after their generator stopped functioning. Captain Wheeler and crew
took off to bomb enemy ships and started a bombing run only to have a
complete electrical failure so that the bomb bay doors couldn’t be opened. A
third airplane pieced together from several damaged aircraft left Clark
Field to be further repaired at Del Monte.
That afternoon around 1430 six B-17s from Del Monte arrived at
Clark after failing to find the reported aircraft carrier. Low on fuel they
needed to get on the ground in a hurry. All six managed to land without
incident and were quickly refueled. Colonel Eubank was worried that the
planes would be caught on the ground and be bombed or strafed on the
runway. The exhausted and hungry crews were ordered back into the air
as soon as their planes were full. What Eubank didn’t know was that the
Japanese were still on the ground in Formosa due to the dense fog
enveloping their runway.

It was rapidly becoming apparent to Colonel Eubank and his flight
commanders that Clark Field was so badly damaged and had such a dearth
of anti-aircraft defenses that it should probably be abandoned. A new air
field 35 miles west of Clark at San Marcelino was available but the runway
was only 4,000 feet long. An additional flight of seven B-17s from Del
Monte arrived over Clark Field late that afternoon while the circling flight
of six plains already over the field were returning. It was quickly decided to
send the newcomers to land on the dry dusty soil of the new runway at San
Marcelino. The field lacked a control tower, landing lights, and housing for
the air and maintenance crews. The big planes circled the field one time
and then followed their leader in for a landing. It was very dark and the
dust all but obscured the landing site. One by one the big birds landed by
following the landing lights of the plane ahead. The Filipino guards posted
around the perimeter were confused and worried that the planes might be
Japanese. A few of them started shooting at the planes. A B-17 was hit and
had a fuel line to one of its engines severed. All in all it had been a terrible
day for the Air Force.
Sun up the next morning found anxious crews still working
frantically getting P-40s and the bombers ready for the attack everyone
was sure to come. At Clark field the death and casualty toll from the first
air raid: 100 dead and 250 wounded, had decimated the ranks and left
everyone stunned and disheartened.

The Fort Stotsenberg Hospital was jammed with the wounded and
dying victims of the first day’s attacks. Along what remained of the flight
line the stench of death permeated the air. There hadn’t been time to
identify and bury the dead. In the heat the corpses were bloated and
reeking. The B-17s were widely scattered. Colonel Eubank had Allison Ind
do a quick count.
“Sir, there are seven B-17s at Clark including the one with the bad
generator. There are three additional planes that we are working on to fix
and get back into flying condition. Eight of the planes are at San Marcellino
low on fuel with no way to get fuel to them. Four are at Del Monte. At least
two of them are doubtful for today. One has bad electrical problems and the
other has some major engine problems.”
Dammit, will our troubles never cease?” Eubank said, “I want to get
some pictures and a report on Formosa. Let’s send somebody up there to
take pictures and try to figure what we’re up against.”
“Sir, a few days before the war started the Navy sent some PBY’s up
to Formosa to photograph the Japanese airfields. They all made it back
safely so the navy must have the pictures. I’ll call Admiral Hart and see if
anyone over there has them. And Sir, during the night one of our P-40
pilots spotted a Jap convoy headed for the northwest corner of Luzon. And
we just got a report from one of our coast watchers. That convoy is
somewhere near Vigan.”
“What does MacArthur think?”

“Well we’re responsible to act in accordance with any discernable
threat, Colonel. I’d say we have the freedom to hit the Japs before they
land.”
“OK, let’s go get ‘em.
Just before 0600 the ground crews were able to get 5 planes ready to
fly to the coast. There were still armed with twenty 100 lb. bombs apiece.
The flight was joined by P-40s and slower P-35’s. And shortly after they
crossed the coast at Lingayen Gulf they could see the large Japanese
convoy already trying to land troops and supplies at Vigan. The B-17s
made a bombing run at 12,000 feet and the bomb racks refused to open.
Circling lower they began taking antiaircraft fire. At 7,000 they were able
to drop their bombs and turn for home. The damage done was negligible.
Several ships appeared to be hit but only one seemed to be in any danger of
sinking.
.A fear that the B-17s would be caught on the ground by raiding
enemy planes gripped the commander, Colonel Eubank. He was terrified by
the idea that he could loose his whole force. The Vigan raiders returned to
Clark Field around 0930hrs. When they landed they intended to refuel,
rearm and get ready for the next sortie.
Instead they were ordered to take off and circle the base without
rearming. Two planes of the flight were left behind with troubling
mechanical and electrical problems.
When Allison Ind reached the Admiral, Hart said that the pictures

must have gone south with the PBY’s.
“All of those planes were destroyed on the water by Japanese planes.
We evacuated the base and as far as I know no pictures turned up. If they
had I’m sure I would have seen them.”
Shortly after the first group left for Vigan, Colonel “Rosie” O’Donnel
and Captain Parsel arrived at Clark from San Marcelino. O’Donnel loaded
his plane with eight 100 pound bombs and took off for Vigan. At 25,000 feet
his bomb racks promptly locked up as began a bomb run. He descended to
lower levels and made 5 passes over the Convoy before he managed to drop
all eight of his bombs. In spite of the effort he and his crew didn’t record a
single hit. With an empty bomb bay O’Donnel headed back to Clark.
News that the Japanese were landing at Appari alarmed everyone.
Even more alarming was the news that a Japanese force was heading
towards Clark Field. Captain Parsell had finally managed to fix his oil line
leak and he and three other planes were trying to load bombs when they
were ordered up to clear out Clark, and strike at the enemy landing on the
coast. Only one of the planes was fully loaded with eight 600 pound bombs.
The two other planes took off with partial loads Captain Colin Kelly’s plane
was loaded with three 600 pound bombs. Lieutenant Montgomery’s plane
carried only one bomb. Captain Parsell had managed to load seven 300
pound Bombs. One by one they flew off to Vigan and Appari. The first plane
over Appari dropped a few bombs from 25,000 feet on ships unloading
troops. They thought they hit one and sank another. As they were turning

to make another pass their plane started taking fire from four Zeros. The
Pilot tried to fly into a cloud to escape but the big plane took a hit on engine
that began spraying oil. The wings were riddled with bullet holes and the
Pilot dove into a dense bank of clouds at 7,000 feet. The B-17 gunners ran
out of ammunition. The pilot nursed the plane home to San Marcelino and
settled the ship on the runway. It was badly damaged.
A line of vessels stood offshore at Appari lobbing shells into the
beach in support of the invasion. When Captain Kelly and his crew arrived
on the scene they went after the Japanese Navy ships. A large vessel that
to Kelley and his crew appeared to be a battleship was actually a light
cruiser. It seemed a likely target and Kelley started his bomb run. His
bombardier dropped all three of the bombs they carried at one time. The
bombs dropped in the water short of the ship. But it seemed to Kelly and
his men that it would have been impossible to miss.
The defending Zero fighters honed in on the B-17. Streaking for home
Kelly’s plane started taking enemy fire just as it arrived over Clark. They
had been followed all the way from Appari By Sakai Saburo in a Zero, and
five other Japanese fighter planes. Just as Sakai’s group started to attack,
a group of three more Japanese Zeros appeared. One by one the Zeros
peeled off and made a pass at the big plane firing a constant stream of
cannon and machine gun fire into Kelly’s ship. When the bomber failed to
go down Sakai came in close and sat on it’s tail pouring cannon shells into
the bombers right wing. He could see flying chunks of metal and then a

stream of white smoke coming out of the wing. He was not sure of what the
white stream consisted of but he kept up his attack on the damaged area.
Suddenly the stream turned into a geyser. The bomber’s guns stopped
firing. The middle of the B-17 was on fire, the flames fed by a stream of
gasoline that mixed with oxygen from a broken line.
Captain Kelly ordered the crew to bail out. The Bombardier and the
Navigator struggled and then succeeded in making it out a small hatch in
the nose of the plane. The side gunner’s made it out and floated down to the
ground. There were only two people left alive on the plane, the Co-Pilot and
Captain Kelly. The Co-Pilot opened the observation dome at the top of the
flight deck just as the plane blew up. He was blown clear and remembered
to pull the rip cord on his parachute in time to drift towards the ground.
The blast put the plane in a dive and it plummeted down twisting and
spiraling to it’s death. A second explosion wracked the fuselage blowing it
apart into three large sections one wing, the forward section and rear tail
section. They all slammed into the ground less than six miles from the
runway at Clark Field.
Later the body of Captain Colin Kelly was found only a few yards
from the wreckage along with the body of Sergeant Delahanty who was
killed in the first seconds of the Zero’s attack. The survivors were hustled
back to Clark Field.
A terrible truth dawned on the Air Force Commanders. The B-17 was
not yet ready for all out war against a skillful and determined enemy. The

bombing accuracy was simply too inaccurate against moving ships from
high altitude, and rear of the plane lacked adequate firepower to fend off an
attack.
These facts didn’t stop the news of a possible sinking of a Japanese
battleship by a B-17 from reaching General MacArthur’s headquarters. The
old man instantly saw the public relations value of the story. He ordered
the survivors of the disaster to be brought to Manila. MacArthur awarded
a posthumous Distinguished Flying Cross to Captain Kelly and personally
decorated the crew with the DFC.
“It gives me great pleasure to pin these on your breasts. Where for
all time they will be the symbol of the devotion, fortitude, and courage with
which you fought for your country. It is my profound sorrow that Captain
Colin Kelly is not here. I do not know of the dignity of his birth but I do
know the glory of his death. He died, unquestioning, uncomplaining, with
faith in his heart, and victory his end. God has taken him unto himself, A
gallant soldier who did his duty.”
Frank Hewlett, flashed his Associated Press card to the sentry as he
hurried to the awards ceremony. He was late. General Sutherland had been
looking for him.
“Frank good of you to come. The General said he would like to have a
few words with you after this party breaks up.”

Frank Hewlett had been subjected to MacArthur’s forceful brow
beatings several times since coming to Manila and he was on his guard as
the General opened up.
“Frank, since you were late I want to be sure you are aware of the
importance of the ceremony I just concluded.” MacArthur leaned forward
in his chair, crocodile tears streaming down his face, and fixed Hewlett in
the eyes.
Captain Colin P. Kelly was a leader, a hero, and should be a model for
every American in this time of great national danger. I am recommending
that he be given the Congressional Medal of Honor. It’s a certainty that my
recommendation will be approved. You will want to be first with this
important story and communicate to the Associated Press and all your
member newspapers, the importance of having this outstanding young
American enshrined in the Halls of Glory for all time. If you have any
further questions General Sutherland or General Willoughby can fill you in
on the details.”
Hewlett realized that he’d been had. Now if he didn’t file the story
exactly as MacArthur wanted it he’d be dead meat back at the office in New
York. He stopped by Sutherland’s desk on the way out and was handed an
envelope.
“The story is all in there along with pictures. Sorry you got here
late.”

Hewlett went to his room at the Manila Hotel and scribbled a note on
a piece of hotel stationary. ‘As received from the headquarters of the
American forces.’ He didn’t bother to read the press release but instead
carried it down to the front desk to be cabled to the International Desk of
the Associated Press. As he dropped it off he said under his breath, “It is by
such acts as these that heroic myths are made.”
When MacArthur’s press release hit the International Desk of the
Associated Press in New York it was quickly disseminated over the
newswire. Newspapers all over the country printed the story on the front
page. MacArthur’s public relations staff had inflated the facts so that the
true story was almost completely obscured. According to the fictitious
story, Captain Colin Kelly had ordered his crew to bail out and then
crashed his plane into the Battleship Haruna sacrificing his life to sink the
ship. The way the story went the Japanese fighter pilots had deliberately
tried to shoot the crew floating down in their parachutes although at the
time there was a low over cast of clouds that screened the crew drifting
down.
To an American public hungry for some positive news after days of
disaster it was a morale booster that was tailor made to be believed.
America had its first War Hero of World War II.
President Roosevelt and General Marshall knew from their naval
intelligence sources in the Pacific that the battleship Haruna was
thousands of miles away from the Philippines. Colonel Frank Kurtz, an

American Air Force bomber pilot was there at Clark field that day and saw
what happened.
“I was in the tower that day when Colin was trying to land his plane.
Three chutes came down through the overcast, and the cloud deck seemed
to me to be about 2,500 feet. Then five more chutes opened. At least, it
looked like five from where I watching. Colin never got out. “
Washington D.C.: The White House
“General Marshall, that son of a bitch, MacArthur has presented me
with a political problem I can’t see any way around. If I tell the truth about
this Captain Kelley affair I’ll be pilloried in the press.”
“I know Mr. President. Let me think about. Mac has tried an end
around play, and there may be a way to stop it.”
Three days later Marshall sent a message to MacArthur telling him
that the award of the Distinguish Flying Cross would be upheld by the war
department but that the Congressional Medal of Honor would not be
awarded to Captain Colin P. Kelly jr. Ironically most of the public thought
that he’d been awarded it and the myth continued on. A desperate nation
needed a hero as never before.
Tinan Formosa
In their quarters at Tinan the same night of Kelly’s crash the fighter
pilots were disappointed. Because of the overcast nobody saw the crash. So
credit for the kill was denied. Saikai Saburo had not fired on the planes
crewmen. He couldn’t have if he tried. He was out of ammunition.

“The only thing I shot were photographs of the plane going down
with my Leica camera.”
The courage of the bomber’s pilot was the subject of much discussion
that night.
“I’ve never heard of anything like that before, a single plane risking
almost certain destruction from so many enemy fighters in order to press
home the attack. It’s unbelievable. These American pilots are not going to
be so easy to defeat,” Sakai said, “Did you see the way that pilot fishtailed
back and forth to give his waist gunners a shot at us when we made our
pass. When I decided to get on his tail at close range to see if I could get the
kill all of you were gone having used up your ammo. I pumped canon shots
into the bomber’s right engine but it still kept flying. Suddenly there was a
huge explosion in the middle of the plane and it broke into three big parts
and fell through the clouds. The B-17 is a tough airplane. It’s going to be
hard to bring down. It is so fast, I had to give my plane maximum throttle
just to keep up.”

Chapter 36
The 11th of December
The 11th of December was the Navy’s day to take massive
punishment. The arrangement between Admiral Hart and General
MacArthur made the Army Air Force responsible for intercepting enemy
plans over the navy’s ships and the navy base at Cavite along with its other
ground facilities.
The Sangley Point radar gave a 45 minute advance notice of an
impending Japanese air attack. The Air Force Interceptor Command
scrambled twenty P-40s and fifteen P-38s to meet the onrushing enemy.
Over 50 Japanese Zero fighters were escorting 80 Japanese Bombers. The
Japanese plan was simple. The Japanese force split in half. The first group
peeling off just north of Manila to make an attack on Nielson and Nichols
fields. They also lay waste to Camp Murphy. The second group flew directly
over Manila bay and began to lay waste to Cavite Naval Base 7 miles south
of Manila, with a surgical precision that amazed the Americans on the
ground.
The Japanese bombers flying at 20,000 feet, well above he range of
the 3 inch anti-aircraft guns, made leisurely work of hew whole business,
flying in gentle arcs back and forth over the base. The bombing was
incredibly precise laying waste to the shops, the power plant, dispensary,
torpedo repair shop, offices, signal station, barracks and officer’s quarters.
Several ships, tugs, and barges were also hit along the quayside. Raging

fires broke out everywhere in the navy yard and the City of Cavite was a
roaring inferno.
Admiral Hart and his staff watched in helpless rage from the top of
the Marston Building as the destruction of the base, the ships tied up there,
and the city of Cavite went on. The next morning Admiral Rockwell, the
Commander at Cavite, gave Admiral Hart a report.
“It was a very bad day yesterday and it’s not much better this
morning. We lost the sub Sea Walrus, and the minesweeper Bittern. Both
boats took direct hits. Four men were killed. The Sub Sea Lion was also
badly damaged. We don’t know yet if she can be repaired. The worst thing
is that the whole supply of Torpedoes was destroyed all 240 of them”
“Any progress on the fires?”
“No Sir, the fire pumping station was one of the first thing to go.
There’s no water and the only thing we’ve been able to do is pray over the
ammunition dump. We posted a guard around the perimeter and I hope to
hell that the thing doesn’t blow. If it does it will kill a lot of our people. As it
is we’ve take a hell of a lot of casualties.”
“Sounds pretty bad. I think you should get the boys away from the
ammo dump don’t you? It doesn’t sound like we can do anything to save it.”
“What’s your recommendation?”
“Move every thing we can salvage and abandon the place. I don’t
know what else to suggest. There’s not a lot left to worry about. It’s
uninhabitable as far as I can see.”

“Let’s wait for a day and size up every option before deciding. And
for God’s sake take care of your self down there. We can’t afford to lose
you.”
“I don’t think we should wait. The fires are burning hotter than ever.
There won’t be much to salvage in any case by the morning.”
“Where have you been sending the wounded?”
Sternberg Hospital and any place else that can take people in. It’s
pretty bad.”
“OK. I agree with you. Let’s get a move on and if you can get the
supply department working let’s salvage as much ammunition as we can
before moving out. We can disperse the ammo and the small arms to
Corregidor and Mariveles. How long do you think the communications
station at Sangly point can carry on?”
“No way of knowing, but I guess it will operate OK if their power isn’t
cut off and the Japs don’t hit it with another bombing raid. Fortunately it’s
a pretty small target.”
“The Japanese know it’s there but maybe they’ll be so busy they
won’t remember to take it out. See what we can do to get a portable
generator out there.”
“Rock, we’re going to need every thing we can salvage if we are ever
going to be able to hang on out here. Don’t leave anything behind that’s
useful if you can possibly help it. We are going to need every mine, torpedo,
and all the weapons we can hang onto.”

“I understand Tommy. We’ll do our best.”
After the events of December 10th, General Brereton’s fighter
command was in terrible shape. The P40 was a hot temperamental ship. It
was potentially a very good frontline fighter. It was also very difficult to fly
with a tendency to ground loop when too much power was applied on
takeoff. The pilots hadn’t been able to train in them long enough to figure
out all the quirks the planes had in the air. The Zero Pilots knew their
planes inside and out because they had piloted them in air combat in China
against hot Russian pilots. The American flyers had taken a beating. The
interceptor force had suffered badly in the face-off combat with the enemy
and the Air Force was now down to 33 Interceptors. A complete disaster
loomed.
General MacArthur also watched the destruction of Cavite Naval
Station. He was called out by his staff to the old stone wall by his adjutant
Colonel Sid Huff who had been watching when the Japanese flew over
Manila and headed for Cavite. The two men watched as the Japanese
worked their deadly destruction.
“I’m afraid the Navy is going turn tail and run from this situation.
Tommy Hart’s fleet is just an old remnant and without air defense those
ships of his will be sitting ducks.”
“Do you think he will cut and run?”
“He doesn’t have much choice with Cavite gone.

I’m going to have a heart to heart talk with him and encourage him
to stick around long enough to get the relief convoy here.”
“Where is the convoy?”
“It was on it’s way here somewhere west of Hawaii when Pearl was
attacked. It turned around and when back in the direction of Honolulu but
then General Marshall ordered to come here via Western Australia. That’s
Eisenhower’s doing. He hasn’t any faith that we can hold on here. I told
Washington that the US can’t stand the loss of faith and honor if we loose
the Philippines. It’s part of America for God’s sake. But, they don’t seem to
get it.”
With each negative report that came in the navy’s plight seemed
more hopeless to Admiral Hart. Without adequate air cover their was no
way for his fleet to stay in the fight. Fortunately the submarine tender
Canopus had enough torpedoes and fuel on board to service the subs. The
experience at Davao was a warning that the Catalina PBY patrol planes
were no match and vulnerable to the Japanese fighter planes. His earlier
plan to pull back to the Dutch East Indies seemed like the only reasonable
move. He suspected that the convoy from Hawaii, protected by only the
cruiser Pensacola would not make it to the Philippines. He’d heard that the
ships carried 5,000 troops, 18 or 20 P-40s, some A-24s, artillery pieces,
and thousands of rounds of ammunition. This was hardly enough to protect
the navy’s ships and MacArthur would commandeer the planes to use in
his own defense. Disaster loomed. What if the convoy was attacked by the

Japanese at sea. When the General’s aide called him to ask for a meeting he
knew that Mac would work him over so he would commit to stay and have
his ships escort the convoy in.
Admiral Hart and his staff pondered the situation far into the night.
In the morning MacArthur arrived after the decision to move what was left
of the Asiatic Fleet south and west to the Dutch East Indies was already
made. MacArthur started out by describing the morale busting and
dishonor consequences of losing the Philippines.
“Tommy our B-17s are tearing the hell out of the Jap convoys trying
to land troops on the Lingayen coast up North. They haven’t been able to
land in force anywhere. If we get reinforcements more fighter aircraft and
ammunition we have a good chance of holding the main Japanese force
when it hits the Lingayen coast.
“Douglas have you any idea of where the convoy is right now? Has it
left Hawaii? If it is going to come via western Australia how long will that
take? By the time that convoy gets here the Japanese will have established
a complete blockade and that convoy will never get through. A couple of
ancient destroyers and a cruiser or two won’t make any difference.”
Admiral Hart was in a determined mood and could not be moved by
Mac’s arguments. MacArthur argued with Hart for nearly half an hour and
then left in complete disgust. Back in his office he wrote a long message to
General Marshall complaining about Hart’s pessimism. Dictating to a
secretary he said, “He seems to think the islands will be surrounded in a

matter of days, and that our position here is doomed. I am of the opinion
that he should be relieved of his command before he is allowed to take the
navy away from the islands. The loss of the Philippines should not be
countenanced. If the Japanese ever captures these islands the difficulty of
recapture is impossible of conception. If the Western Pacific is to be saved it
will have to be saved here and now. Every resource of the democratic allies
in sea, air and land should be converged her immediately and
overwhelmingly.”
MacArthur was just getting warmed up and continued on. “The
Philippine theatre of operations is the locus of victory or defeat. And I urge
a strategic review of the entire situation lest a fatal mistake be made.”
It was strong language but in his gut he was just as concerned about
the deteriorating military situation as Hart was. He sent the cable and
waited. Three days later Marshall responded that President Roosevelt
understood the strategic importance of the islands and that all possible
assistance would be sent there.
An obstinate Admiral Hart read Marshall’s cable but refused to
change his mind. Remembering his need for intelligence he sent a coded
message to Captain Kang ordering him to change course in Golden Dragon
and head for Balikpapan.
Over the next few days disaster followed disaster for the Navy. Patrol
Wing 10 had been flying war patrols out of it’s base at Olongapo for nearly a
week. As reports of Japanese ship movements came from Filipinos along

the coasts, Captain Wagner was sending PBYs out to check out areas up the
Luzon coast. Early morning December 12th he sent seven of his flying
boats off on a reconnaissance patrol to look for a Japanese Carrier force
that was said to be steaming in the direction of Manila. That afternoon the
patrols returned with exhausted crews, nearly out of fuel and no
information on the enemy. After the planes were moored a flight of Zeros
attacked and destroyed all seven of the Catalinas in a stroke that destroyed
a quarter of the “eyes” of the Asiatic Fleet.
Captain Hart thanked Wagner and praised the work of his crews, and
told them to carry on as best they could. The next day they received an
order for what was left of Patrol Wing 10 to withdraw. Seaplane tender
Childs embarked Captain Wagner and his men, leaving Olongapo Base just
after dark bound for Admiral Glassford’s flagship the cruiser Houston and
his destroyers off Panay to the south. Until this decision was made Admiral
Hart had harbored a slim hope that he would be able to bring back
Glassford’s force to strike the enemy ships that were expected to transport
more troops to the Lingayan coast sooner or later.
Without air cover or “eyes” it was suicide to bring ships north to do
battle. The Army Air Force had become almost completely unraveled
trying to defend against a superior Japanese onslaught. In Admiral Harts
opinion the Philippines were already lost to the Japan.

Chapter 37
Hard Decisions
The city of Manila sweltered under the December Sun, it’s population
almost leaderless as a very sick President Quezon and his party of
sycophants argued over what to do. Rumors of a fifth column of disaffected
nationalist Filipinos led by Japanese spies were widespread. A Japanese
radio transmitter was said to be broadcasting from the middle of Cavite
city. The American Army’s intelligence police had arrested a woman at the
house where the transmitter was found.
Clarence Yamagata and his wife were busy around the clock
translating for the army investigators who were rounding up Japanese
nationals. Richard Sakamoto worked for a couple of days at intelligence
headquarters screening papers on the people who were being arrested.
Then Jack Clymer called him in for a talk.
“Lieutenant I know all the work you’ve done in ferreting these people
out and sorting things out around here. You’ve done a great job under very
difficult and dangerous conditions and we all appreciate how well you’ve
done. Headquarters has asked for someone to help translate for the general
staff. They need someone who can handle Japanese and you are the only
one who can do the job. We’ll cut orders tonight on a transfer to General
Willoughby’s staff in intelligence. You can pick them up in the morning on
your way over there.”

Richard was stunned. He so accustomed him self to working with
Captain Clymer that it never occurred to him that he wouldn’t serve out
his entire time in the Army working for the man.
“Sir, do you know what I will be doing at Headquarters?”
“I’m not sure. They didn’t say. I imagine it will have something to do
with some pretty important stuff. Maybe listening to Japanese radio
broadcasts. I just don’t know.”
“Yeah, that little detailed escaped my attention entirely,” Clymer
laughed, “I guess the best thing to do is go to a tailor and get something
sewed up over night. I’ll have the paymaster issue you enough cash to buy
several sets of uniforms. That should take care of the situation. If you need
more money just let me know.”
Manila HQ
There was a sense of urgency in the Manila headquarters section.
General Wainwright and troops were fighting a delaying battle as General
Homma’s troops advanced down the cobblestone Route 3 from the beaches
of the Lingayen Gulf. Wainwright and MacArthur had carefully chosen
lines of retreat on the route. General Wainwright was under orders to fight
hard and the blow up all of the nearly 184 bridges over streams along the
way and fall back to the next chosen line of retreat. Many of the smaller
bridges and culverts had already been destroyed by Jim Casey, Lt. James
and the crew from the Benguet mine.

Brigadier Albert M. Jones commanded the south Luzon forces and
his command was made up of dazed Filipino conscripts. General Homma,
believing that Manila was the key to conquering the Philippines had landed
a force of battle harden troop south of Manila and they were driving hard
for the city. The problems of command for the American officer’s were
compounded by the fact that they could not communicate with Filipino
troops who spoke only Tagalog. Since the young Lieutenant couldn’t
understand Tagalog they had to develop arm signals and other means to
command.
Retreat being a very bad word in the Army, General MacArthur was
directing a “double retrograde maneuver.” with Jones and his army coming
up from the south and Wainwright and his troops falling back under heavy
pressure from General Homma’s advance. All the senior officers realized
that a choke point going to develop at the Calumpit Bridge across the
unaffordable rapid waters of the Papanga River. The bridge was some 20
miles northwest of Manila. It was a double span with one being a railroad
bridge, and the second, the highway.
General Homma’s advance has been so rapid his troops in the north
and the south were exhausted. He called a halt to decide what to do. While
he was thinking. General Jones and his forces broke off combat and headed
north to the Calumpit Bridge. The road out of Manila contain hordes of
people escaping from the Japanese advance. Every kind of conveyance was
being used to flee.

Those who couldn’t ride were walking pushing baby carriages and
pulling toy wagons.
MacArthur was talking on the phone non-stop to direct the retreat.
The critical thing was to blow up the Calumpit Bridge, the main artery
leading to Bataan Peninsula, at precisely the right time. General Jones and
his forces crossed the bridge first. After that the bridge was jammed with
the fleeing people from Manila. For two days and nights there was a ten
mile traffic jam.
“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done as long as I’ve been in the
Army,” MacArthur said, “Stand and fight, slip back and dynamite. General
Wainwright and his men are doing a hell of a job.”
Finally at the last minute Wainright and his men crossed the bridge.
He and his men had made it to the bridge because Wainwright had set his
light tanks up on the road and their rapid and accurate fire had driven the
Japanese column back out of sight. At 2:30 AM the next morning the tanks
crossed the railway bridge Wainwright waited for the last straggler of both
forces to cross at 5:00. The Bridge was mined and ready to be destroyed. At
6:15 dawn broke and in the first light of morning a heavily armed force of
Japanese approached the bridge. Wainwright spoke to his engineers who
were standing by. “Blow it.” The blast blew smashed steel and broken
pieces of road way into the air, and the bridge collapsed into the river. His
timing was superb.

But the retreat into Bataan was far from complete. One more river
was in the way and the terrain on the peninsula was daunting. Bataan was
a mountainous jungle almost impossible to penetrate. This was not
contemplated by General Homma. He thought that once Manila was
occupied the Philippines would be his.
Richard Sakamoto’s New Job
Richard Sakamoto, in a new uniform, reported to MacArthur’s head
quarters. In contemplation of an emergency move to Corregidor
MacArthur’s staff and Caleb Bingham decided to move the Philippine
treasury to safety in a storage section of the Malinta tunnel on the island.
Allison Ind talked with Richard. “The biggest job is recording the
serial numbers and the amounts on the Philippine Commonwealth’s
Treasury notes. I would like you to work on this project. Latter we are
going to move the gold and all the silver coins by bagging them and taking
them for storage on Corregidor.”
Richard worked for days with a staff of Filipino employees of the
Philippine government recording the Treasury notes. The gold and silver
bullion was counted and put in solid wooden cases. When the job was
finished Richard helped a team of heavily armed men from the US Army on
Corregidor load the heavy gold and silver coins under the cover of
darkness. It was a secret undertaking and very difficult because the metals
were so heavy.

In the meantime General MacArthur had decided to move to
Corregidor. At the dock in Manila Harbor the MacArthur, his wife Jean and
their son Arthur, President Quezon and his wife and a large group of others
waited for the small inter-island steamer Don Esteban to pick them up.
Out of the gathering dusk Admiral Hart walked up. “Douglas, I
couldn’t bear to have you leave without saying goodbye. I am transferring
my command to Admiral Rockwell and leaving to go south aboard the
submarine Shark.”
MacArthur managed a wan smile and said. “So we’ve come so
quickly to this, the commander of the Asiatic fleet is leaving in a
submarine. Tommy I hope you won’t be embarrassed when you get off the
boat at the other end.”
“Douglas, if we make it there alive I am going to run ashore and kiss
the ground.”
They shook hands and Admiral Hart walked down the path along the
seawall to the waiting Shark.
MacArthur and his party went aboard the Don Esteban but their
departure was delayed by the arrival of Richard and the trucks bearing the
Philippine’s gold and silver bullion. It took time to manhandle the heavy
crates aboard the ship. Finally the truck drivers were sent away, and
Richard and the armed guards went aboard the steamer.
The moon rose over the mountain of Cavite and the Don Esteban
slowly made it’s way to Corregidor. The sea was flat dead calm and all the

lights on the ship were turned off. The steamer’s captain steered by the
light of the moon.
Transferring the bullion in it’s crates up to the storage tunnel was
difficult work accompanied by serious danger. Richard was busy making
sure that all of the cargo was taken off the boat and checked in to the
storage room. He finally collapsed on on a cot and went to sleep. He had
been up for nearly 36 hours.
The afternoon of Richard’s second day on the island. He showered
and put on a clean uniform. The the moving job was finally finished.
Richard reported to the headquarters area and after a brief wait was
introduced to General Willoughby, MacArthur’s Chief of Intelligence.
“Lieutenant Sakamoto, we need you to interview, question really, all
the Japanese prisoners we have to get everything they know about the Jap
Army’s plans. At this point they represent of all the intelligence we can
gather. You will be working with members of my staff. They will ask the
questions in English and you can translate them so the Japanese can
understand. Then you will make their answers into English for my people.
We will make a record of each interview and you can check to see that the
English translation is correct.”
“Sir, I speak and can understand ordinary Japanese but I am
unfamiliar with any of the military terms the prisoners may use. Won’t
that be a big problem.”

“Son, our big problem is that there is only one of you. So expect to
work long hours and live on little sleep. We’re in a war you understand.”
Richard doubted than any captured Japanese would talk. He know
that the Japanese army concept of Bushido, the way of the warrior was
pounded into every conscripts head through basic training, and even after
they joined their assigned units. Dying for the Emperor was considered an
honor. To be captured alive was a disgrace.
What he had not realized was that the prisoners were so glad they
were alive and not murdered by the Americans they talked freely about
what they knew. Most of them were raw recruits from poverty stricken
farm families in rural Japan. Many of them were uneducated and hardly
literate. The problem was they didn’t know very much but they talked, and
talked. Almost everything they said was an attempt to ingratiate
themselves with their captors.
A few of the prisoners were young non-commissioned officers and
Lieutenants. Interviewing them was more productive but still
disappointing. In the next to last session that Richard translated the
American Captain who was leading the investigation said.
“Lieutenant Sakamoto, this whole process is frustrating and not
productive enough to continue. Why do you think that is?”
“Sir, I get the impression that the Japanese Army operates by
pointing in the direction they want to attack and the regiments are lead by
a Captain or a Colonel who unsheathes his sword and leads the charge. The

troops following haven’t the slightest idea what they are supposed to do but
charge forward to kill as many of us as they can and die in the attempt. The
more experienced non-coms have a good idea and they have studied the
maps but that’s about it. It sounds crazy to us but I am sure that is what we
are up against trying to get any information. If we have captured a basic
infantry manual I can translate it and see if my idea is the right one.”
The next interview was conducted with a young Japanese Captain. It
turned out that he had been promoted one day before he was captured and
didn’t know much more then the men he commanded.
Richard and the rest of the intelligence staff went to bed late and
woke up a few hours later. They reported for duty and Richard was told
that he should expect to interview any captive who was a Colonel or above.
For days Corregidor was under Japanese fire and bombing from
planes that came in over Manila bay. The pier where the Don Esteban had
landed was all but destroyed. Every living plant on the island was dead or
badly burned. At night when Richard looked back at Manila the city was
dark and quiet lying under an almost total blackout. The smell of cordite
and smoke from burning fires was everywhere.
Communications Breakdown
General Marshall’s positive reply to Colonel Trouts message calling
for a immediate help caused the General to rethink his position. He knew
that Admiral Hart’s refusal to commit to helping a convoy to get through to
Manila was based on incontrovertible facts. With out air power both the

navy and the army were sitting ducks for the Japanese during daylight
hours. General Wainwright had called him twice complaining about the
lack of trucks to transport troops and material to the north.
“Mac, how the hell can I get a defensive line established if I can’t get
my boys to a location where we can dig in?”
MacArthur had no answer. Communications had almost entirely
broken down. The army’s field telephones depended on many lines simply
laid on the ground a situation that was entirely unworkable. General
Brereton was unable to stay in touch with his commanders at the various
bases and Nichols Field was cut off completely. One consideration worried
MacArthur more than anything. If the Japanese succeeded in landing in
force and threaten Manila he would have to abandon the city. Manila was
simply indefensible.
He was pondering the situation on the morning of December 16th
when the Japanese began bombing the shoreline and the docks of the city
not far from his office. To the sound of explosions he called the publisher of
the English language newspaper, Carlos Romulo.
“Carlos this is MacArthur. I’m calling you to service. Get into
uniform and report to my office ASAP. I want you to help Major Diller keep
the people of Manila informed on what’s going on. This city is filled with
more rumors than you can shake a stick at. I want you to work on this
problem. Just tell the people the truth they can handle it.”
Then he called Sid Huff into his office.

“I want you to go and see President Quezon and Commissioner Sayre.
Tell them we are going to have to abandon Manila. They must be ready to
leave for Corregidor on 2 hours notice. Tell them to keep this news close to
their chests. If this leaks out to the general public we’ll have a huge panic
on our hands.”
Since the news of the attack on Pearl Harbor had reached Quezon
and his cronies they had had a running argument over what the Philippine
Government should do. Some advised surrender to the Japanese. Others
proclaimed their undying allegiance to the Unites States. When Quezon
heard the news from Sid Huff he panicked. He never dreamed he would
have to leave the Presidential Palace and the city. He demanded a meeting
with General MacArthur. The General agreed to meet him in secret at the
Manila hotel after dark.
When Quezon’s car pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel that
night he was quickly taken thru the service entrance and by the blacked
out ballroom. Behind the locked doors he could hear music and the sounds
of partygoers as he was taken to the hotel gardens where he was joined by
General MacArthur.
“Let’s keep our voices down. No use attracting and more attention
than we have to.”
“I was shocked by the suggestion that you would consider giving up
Manila to the Japanese.”
“My conscience would never be clear if I did not consider every

eventuality. Don’t think I consider it lightly. Manila has little strategic use
from a military point of view. If it did I would be defending it to the death.”
“What is your idea then?”
“Declare Manila an open city. Get the Japanese to commit to not
bombing this place, and a defenseless population.”
“How can I abandon my people to such a cruel and ruthless enemy?
How would it look if I ran away and took refuge under the wing of the
American Army while innocent civilians, women and children, were left to
a rapacious army.”
“Sir, I expected no less of such a gallant man but Mr. President it is
not your personal safety which is in question but of the continuity of the
Philippine Government if Manila should fall to the Japanese? It is my duty
to prevent you from falling into Japanese hands.”
“I have no doubt that you mean to see that I accompany you to
Corregidor. I shall take your request under advisement. Good night
General.”
That little shit thinks he really in charge and running the country
MacArthur thought as he entered the hotel elevator to go up to his suite.
We’ll see who takes what under advisement.
President Quezon was very worried. He thought going to Corregidor
would be political suicide but what was worse be immoral. He was also
paranoid. What if General MacArthur should suddenly decide to abandon
General Wainwright and resign his command and go back to the United

States. Then what would he and his loyal supporters in the Philippines do?
He talked it over with his wife and like the realistic Filipino wife she
was said, “I think you should give General MacArthur and his close staff
some inducement to continue on.”
“Like what?”
“Money is always motivating. Why don’t you think it over?”
“But I don’t have any idea how much to give.”
“There’s plenty of money in your political funds. I think the General
could be persuaded by a gift of half a million dollars. After all he is an
American hero and he’s risking his life and reputation to fight for the
Philippines. Just think what it would be like if he leaves.”
Quezon started to cough. He put a handkerchief over his mouth and
leaned over the side of his wheelchair and the silk cloth stained with blood.
He was not afraid of dying. As a faithful Catholic he believed that when it
was time to die God would be in charge.
“Mr. President, you should lie down and sleep. When you wake up in
the morning the Good Lord will give you the answer.”
Quezon slept for 4 hours and woke up. He checked his bedside clock
and sat up on the side of his bed. He made a mental list of the people he
would reward. His wife was right General MacArthur should get $500,000.
His Chief of Staff, Sutherland was important and efficient. He decided to
give General Sutherland $75,000. Dick Marshal, Deputy Chief of Staff,
$45,000. Sid Huff, MacArthur’s aide $20,000. That was enough he

thought.
President Quezon had access to $2,000,000 in a political slush fund
raised by his wealth supporters. That’s a safe source of the cash. Having
decided what to do he went back to sleep. He would make the transfers to
another account and present the money in person.
The next day, after issuing a secret executive order, he had himself
driven to MacArthur’s head quarters and gave the money to each of the
designated recipients. MacArthur warned him. “By military regulations
none of us is authorized to accept this money Mr. President, MacArthur
said, “I will check with Washington and we may be giving you back your
generous gifts. After all it’s the thought that really counts.”
MacArthur sent President Roosevelt a message explaining that
President Quezon, as a Filipino gentleman, would suffer a serious loss of
face if he and his senior staff did not accept the gifts. There was no offer to
give the money to the U.S. government.
President Roosevelt called General Marshall to his office. “General
Marshall read this message from MacArthur. Then tell me what you think.”
“Mr. President my suggestion is to act like you never got the
message.”
“That’s my own reaction. No use giving that sly son of a bitch any
satisfaction. Besides Quezon has plenty of money. He probably stole it from
some well heeled scared cronies.”
Admiral Hart’s reluctance to join the fight and support MacArthur’s

plans for a relief convoy which might never come belied his true fighting
spirit. He ordered his submarines into action as soon as the Japanese ships
were reported off Luzon. There was one major flaw that prevented his subs
from being effective. There was a serious defect in the proximity fuses
designed to detonate the torpedoes when they came into close contact with
enemy ships. Torpedoes were enormously expensive devices. The Navy’s
Bureau of Ships had not wanted spend the money to seriously test the
mechanism which should have been foolproof by it’s very design. In fact,
given the navy’s peace time budget they couldn’t test.
When the action began sub skippers piloted their boats hour after
hour to get within range of an enemy ship with out being detected only to
find that a salvo of torpedoes would not explode even after a direct hit. The
design flaw could not be fixed in the field. Four days after the Japanese
initial landing at Appari the Seawolf managed to maneuver into position to
attack the Sanyo Maru, a converted seaplane tender operating in support
of the Japanese. The Seawolf fired 4 torpedoes. Only one managed to hit the
target and that one was a dud. To avoid detection the Seawolf lay on the
bottom for hours until dark when they could surface and get away. The
morale of the Seawolf’s crew was terrible.
While MacArthur paced his office and studied his maps, Brereton’s
motley collection of tired and wounded B-17s continued to make what raids
they could on the Japanese landings at Appari and at a place called Padan
three miles southeast of Vigan the capital of Ilocos Sur province. Rear

Admiral Nishimura’s 2nd Surprize Attack Force comprised of 4,000 troops
in six transports along with Admiral’s flag ship, destroyers, and a
minesweeper attempted to land troops in heavy seas. The conditions were
so severe it wasn’t possible to debark men into the waiting landing crafts
and after several hours of trying while under heavy fire from Brereton’s
planes, Admiral Nishimura withdrew to Santos. He left behind
minesweeper No. 10 and two damaged transports, Oigawa Maru and Takao
Maru both beached before he departed. The next day the Japanese effected
a landing at Santos where they were unopposed.
Legazpi, harbor at the the southern end of Luzon was the site of a
Japanese invasion on December 12th. General Honma and his planners
decided on this strategic move to stop possible air strikes from the Visayan
islands in the south or an American sea based attack on the Japanese
positions on Luzon through the San Bernardino Strait. The infantry
regiment that was landed a Legazpi was seen as a blocking force that could
operate either against America forces coming down Luzon, or landing from
the south. Rear Admiral Takagi was in command of the Legazpi strike. A
much bigger force commanded by Rear Admiral Kobayashi included the
light cruiser Jintsu, along with two large minesweepers and two
destroyers. The minesweepers protected by the destroyers laid 300 mines
in San Bernardino Straight and almost 150 mines in Suragao Strait.
The American Submarine S-39 lay in wait in the waters off Sorsogon
Bay near San Bernadino Strait. The skipper of S-39 tried to get in a shot at

one of the big ships. She was spotted by Kobyashi’s destroyers and was
heavily depth charged for her troubles.
On the 14th Brereton’s bomber command managed to scrape
together a force of 5 tired crews, and their wounded B-17s and sent them
against the Japanese ships anchored in Legazpi Harbor. Japanese naval
aviators mounted a sustained attack on the big planes and only 3 of them
got through to the ships. Captain Wheless flew down to strafe a
minesweeper. He was immediately attacked as Zero’s moved in for the kill.
A gun running battle ensued. Over the course of the next hour and a
quarter Captain Wheless and his crew fought to stay alive. The radio
operator was killed and two other crew members were wounded. Two of
the four engines were shot out. Seven of the eleven control cables were
severed. The tail wheel was shot off and the tires were blown out. The gas
tanks were punctured in over a dozen places but the big bird managed to
stay in the air. Finally, as the B-17 headed for home the Japanese pilots ran
out of ammunition. The Japanese lost six or seven of their number before
breaking off the action. Late that night Colonel Eubank reported to General
Brereton.
“General we had a bad day today. We lost more planes and some who
managed to get back may never fly again.”
“What’s the score?:
“If we’re luck we can maybe muster 16 planes for attacks tomorrow.”
At MacArthur’s headquarters the days were long and frustrating.

The phones kept ringing constantly as field commanders phoned in reports
or requests for assistance. In between phone calls MacArthur paced and
kept going back to his maps in an effort to see a way out of his dilemma.
In the weeks before Pearl Harbor he had directed that food,
ammunition and supplies be sent to dozens temporary depots at strategic
places around the coast of Luzon. Now, contemplating a retreat to Bataan
peninsula and Corrigedor, he had no way of collecting the widely dispersed
materials. Time was rapidly running out. Already Admiral Hart had sent
away most of his surface ship and the only real navy presence in Philippine
waters was the submarine fleet. MacArthur and Hart met to discuss the
situation.
“Douglas as you know we’ve had to send all but a couple of our
surface ships away or risk losing them to the Japanese air attacks. The
Submarines are still capable of engaging the enemy but we are having
terribly difficult operational difficulties. Because of Japanese over-flights
the boats can’t risk being caught on the surface during the day.”
“So what do they do all day? Sit on the bottom contemplating their
navels.”
“Terrible pun, Douglas. Unfortunately it is also very descriptive.
“Well, we badly need your support when the Japanese fleet makes
their main landing.”
“I guess we both have the same notion about that.”

“It’s got to be in the Lingayen area. It’s a straight shot from there to
Manila.
“Our subs will be there Douglas. You have my word on that.”
“I never doubted it Tommy.”
In Washington after a long period of discussion President Roosevelt
and General Marshall decided that the Philippines would have to be
temporarily written off. General Eisenhower had been told that MacArthur
was be ordered to go to Australia where the President and General
Marshall reasoned that American forces could be organized and supplied
for a what was obviously going to be a long campaign to defeat the
Japanese in Asia. Ike thought it a bad move. He thought that MacArthur
was so full of him self and messianic that he would bring him self down. In
Ike’s view it was time for a new commander in the Pacific.
Message went out to Corregidor ordering MacArthur to Brisbane. He
had difficulty accepting it. He vacillated and did not respond. Finally after
several more messages, the last one from President Roosevelt telling him
he could ‘Chose the right psychological moment to leave’ he decided to
comply.
It was kept a secret that General MacArthur, his senior staff and
family had been ordered to leave Corregidor. The Japanese were pressing
hard on the American lines and every one in the know said that it would be
difficult for MacArthur and his entourage to get away. There was nowhere
any American plane could land and take off without being shot down by

Japanese fighters.
On the 11th of March 1942, as darkness approached, Richard
Sakamoto was ordered to go down to the almost totally demolished landing
where they had unloaded the money.
A 80 foot long 25 foot wide PT boat was idling just offshore waiting
for MacArthur his wife, and son Arthur and his amah Ah Cheu. The group
going with them started to arrive. A young navy Lieutenant approached
Richard.
“Captain Bulkeley would like you to help cast off the lines when we
leave. We’re going to be moving slowly so the engines don’t make too much
noise so there won’t be any problem for you. Hold the bow line and coil it up
and hand it to me when everyone is aboard. I’ll be standing on the
foredeck. There won’t be any rush. Just push the bow away from the dock
as hard as you can but for god’s sake don’t get tangled up in the line, or fall
in the water and drown.”
Admiral Rockwell, General MacArthur and family, and 15 others
came down and boarded the boat. General MacArthur exercising his rank
as commander was the last to step aboard. He leaned over and said, “Okay
Buck let’s take off.”
Richard handed over the bow line. The big Packard three prop 4050
horsepower engines were barely turning over when he pushed hard on the
bow. The stern line was cast off and the PT 41 slowly turned and left the
dock in the dead of night and slowly disappeared.

After PT41 left Corregidor with MacArthur’s family and senior staff
the situation looked exceedingly grim. Richard Sakamoto received orders
to report to Colonel Stuart Wood, a language officer who before the war was
trained in Japan and then assigned to Manila directly from Tokyo. Both
Colonel Wood and Richard were pleased by the assignment because they
finally had someone they could talk to in Japanese.
Then a group of boisterous and confident Marines, evacuated from
Shanghai arrived on Corregidor. General Wainwright announced that their
purpose was to guard the beaches and man the anti-aircraft guns
protecting the island. The cocky Marines assured everyone they met that
they would protect Corregidor from invasion by sea and prevent the
Japanese from bombing the “rock.”
Two days later a force of Japanese land based bombers accompanied
by Zero fighters appeared and started a six hour long attack. Huddled in
the intelligence section of a tunnel in a bathroom, Colonel Wood and
Richard were translating a captured field order to be forwarded to
MacArthur’s headquarters.
“Colonel, this noise and the bomb blasts are terrible. I’ve never
experienced anything like this before.”
“Don’t worry. As long as you can hear the noise you know you are
still alive. I learned this when I was at West Point. An old NCO. a veteran of
the war in France used to make joke about it. He said as long as you can

still hear noise you aren’t dead.”
Just at that moment there was long wailing whistle followed by a
shattering bomb blast. After each succeeding blast Colonel Wood, with out
looking up, said, “God damned son of a bitches. They’re making hard to
concentrate.”
“Colonel, I think my ancestors are doing this to me in angry
retribution for translating this document.”
Wood laughed, “What kind of family background do you have. Are
you from a long line of Samurai?”
Two days later Richard was suddenly ordered to Bataan. He quickly
decided that the jungle was beautiful, a place of verdant flowers and virgin
forests. The first morning there he reported to the field mess and was given
a tin plate of pancakes and syrup that he couldn’t remember eating since
his days in Hawaii. After finishing some pretty rank coffee he was given a
bottle of root beer made from the native jungle plant sarsaparilla.”
Overnight the fighting erupted again on Bataan. As the American
troops retreated the Japanese artillery blasted the jungle forests laying
them waste. Back on Corregidor Richard was busy trying to support the
intelligence gathering effort. The conditions continued to deteriorate.
Twenty eight thousand Filipino troops, most of them untrained were
retreating on foot. By the time they reached Bataan there were less than
sixteen thousand still alive. The rations were reduced to a thousand
calories a day, not enough to keep an active man alive. The Filipino mess

steward apologized as he handed Richard his dinner, a small plate of
corned beef hash.
“Sorry sir. This is all we’ve got for each man.”
The Quartermaster corps began slaughtering the calvary horses in a
desperate attempt to try and increase the caloric intake of the troops.
Colonel Wood said, “This is like Napoleon’s retreat from Russia in the snow.
At least the meat doesn’t get here frozen.”
“I’ve never even considered eating horse meat. What does it taste
like?
Colonel Wood grinned and said, “Like horse meat.”
“You’ve never eaten horse meat before?”
“I did in France when I took a bicycle trip the Summer after I
graduated from High School. With the right gravy it tastes like beef. When I
got to West Point that Fall I could swear we were eating old army mules
sometimes.”
The Quartermasters delivered horse meat on average once a week to
the mess on Corregidor. Richard was so famished he didn’t think twice
about what he was eating. All he knew was that his strength was
returning.”
One morning Colonel Wood introduced him to Colonel “Tiger Teague.
“Lieutenant I need your help. Our signal corps has been taking down
coded Japanese messages and we need help decoding them on a timely
basis.”

“Yes Sir, I’d be glad to help but I don’t know the first thing about
decoding messages.”
“Don’t worry. Lieutenant Hoffcut will teach you every thing you need
to know.”
At first Richard was employed turning the decoded Japanese into
English. As the hours wore on he adsorbed all he needed to know to decode
the messages on his own. He and Hoffcut worked very long hours because
almost everything had to be decoded, translated and written down. The
more experienced they became the faster they produced usable
intelligence.
The war worsened and Colonel Wood and Colonel Teague worried
about what would happen to Richard if he were captured by the Japanese.
“Your Japanese ancestry worries us,” Colonel Wood said, “What do
you think, Colonel Teague?”
“Knowing the Japanese Army’s record of butchery, and the distain
they hold their own men in when they get captured, I think Lieutenant
Sakamoto is in great danger. We could be overrun by the Japs anytime.”
“I agree. He’s much to valuable to loose. He should go to Australia
and work for the translation group at General MacArthur’s headquarters.”
At first Richard felt elated, he was bone weary and fearful of being
captured by the Japanese. He would be going to Australia by the first
possible means. He packed a small musette bag and waited. Then he was
told that he would be leaving by PT boat in two days.

Then his pangs of conscience started. It was all related to his concept
of on, moral obligation. It was part of his system of values, taught to him by
his family in Hawaii from a very early age. It had nothing to do with race or
ethnicity, he thought. I am an American soldier. I’ve shared all the
hardships of my comrades in arms in the months leading up to now. I can’t
walk away from anyone less fortunate than myself.
Suddenly he thought of Clarence Yamagata, former legal counsel for
the Japanese Embassy in Manila who had gone out of his way to help him
before he war broke out. When the war came he was imprisoned along with
the rest of the Japanese Embassy staff at Fort McKinley and when the
Japanese language resources had become stretched so thin on Corregidor
Richard had suggested that they get Clarence out of prison to help with the
work. Yamagata was the most phlegmatic person Richard had ever known.
He had never complained about conditions in the American prison even
though he was frail and plagued with health problems. In spite of his health
he immediately set to work and put in long hours. Richard had stayed up
with him night after night as he tossed on his cot in pain. Clarence had lost
contact with his family and had no idea where his wife and children were.
Richard realized that Clarence would probably be executed as an
American spy if the Japanese ever caught him. With this nagging at his
conscience he went to Colonel Wood.
“Sir. I have a suggest that Clarence Yamagata be sent to Australia
instead of me.”

“Why in God’s name do you want to do that. Are you crazy?”
“Sir. I was elated when you suggested I leave, but because I am an
officer in the U.S. Army Corp of the Intelligence Police, and not married. In
spite of the fact that I’m a Japanese-American I can’t accept that I am
allowed to get away to Australia when there is work to be done here.
Clarence Yamagata has a family, and is just as good a translator as I am.
Maybe even better, so since he is sure to be executed as a traitor if he is
caught, I want to step aside and have him take my place.”
“I still think you are crazy. But if this is what you want to do I will
talk to General Wainwright and ask his permission for you to stay.”
“General Wainwright Sir, Lieutenant Sakamoto who’s scheduled to
go to Australia has volunteered to stay. He is insistent that a civilian
Clarence Yamagata be sent in his place. What do you think about his
request.”
“Stewart, I think Lieutenant Sakamoto is to be commended for
volunteering to stay. I have decided to parlay with General Homma about
surrendering. He’s the best Japanese linguist we have. I want him to
accompany me to the parlay.”
The night Clarence left for Australia Richard was on the dock to say
goodbye.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this Richard. I was afraid
I’d never see my family again. Now I have a chance to live long enough to

find them.”
They shook hands. Clarence Yamagata stepped on board disappeared
into the hull of the PT boat and was gone. Richard never saw him again.
One day Richard was called to Colonel Wood’s office. When he entered
the office he was impressed by how tired and worried the Colonel looked
“Our situation here is getting more and more precarious Lieutenant.
The Japs have knocked out 46 of our 49 75 mm guns and it looks like they
may invade. What’s your gut feeling about when this might take place?”
“Obviously with the way things are they could invade any time,”
Richard said, “But if you believe in omens there are two dates to consider.
The first is April 28th, the emperor’s birthday. The second is May 5th,
Boy’s Day. It’s an important holiday in Japan.”
“What’s the significance of Boy’s Day?”
“It’s been held in Japan for centuries. It’s the day when the whole
nation stresses manhood, honor, bravery and the strength of boys growing
up. Paper carp are flown on poles in the wind to look like fish swimming in
the air. Carp are known for their determination to swim up stream against
all kinds of adversity. Of course that doesn’t mean that the Japanese will
attack on one of these two days. But it certainly is possible.”
“I’ll discuss this with General Wainwright.”
“Are you sure that’s wise Colonel? It’s a little too much like rolling
dice.”

Shortly after midnight on May 4th Filipino coast-watchers reported
Japanese landing barges in Manila Bay. During the night General Homma
had landed troops at four places on Manila Bay including Corregidor,
cutting it off almost completely from any outside contact.
A deep feeling of dread flooded Richard’s thoughts when he heard
the news. Then he remembered why he had opted not to leave. He had
promised to translate for General Wainwright if the Americans
surrendered. It also crossed his mind that Jack Clymer had urged him to
always maintain his cover no matter what happened. He was a soldier with
a mission to carry out. He would do his best and if things turned bad, well
that would have to be confronted when it happened. He thought of his
mother and father’s teaching. Don’t loose face and disgrace the family
name under any circumstances.
The next day, May 6th, General Wainwright decided to surrender at
noon because he was loyal to the men still under his command. He hoped
that by surrendering he could spare the lives of the men under his
command. At ten fifteen in the morning he asked General Beebe to arrange
for the broadcast of a surrender message to General Homma.
Colonel Wood, near tears, came to get Richard. They went to General
Beebe’s office. As they went into the office a Sargeant handed Richard a
piece of paper with a message on it.
“Lieutenant, General Wainwright has asked me to broadcast a
message of our intentions to surrender. I will read it over the air first in

English. Then you will broadcast it in Japanese. Do you need time to study
it and write it down in Japanese?”
“No Sir. It’s a very clear message and I can broadcast it easily and
precisely.”
“Let’s go then, and get this over with. Come with us Colonel Wood.”
The broadcast booth was equipped with two RCA microphones.
General Beebe and Richard sat down and a red sign “On Air” went on.
‘ATTENTION. ATTENTION. THIS IS A MESSAGE FOR GENERAL
HOMMA OF THE JAPANESE IMPERIAL FORCES IN THE PHILIPPINES.
GENERAL JONATHAN WAINWRIGHT, COMMANDER OF THE
AMERICAN FORCES ON LUZON WOULD LIKE TO DISCUSS THE TERMS OF
SURRENDER WITH YOU.
AT TWELVE NOON TODAY A WHITE FLAG WILL BE RAISED OVER
CORREGIDOR AT NOON TODAY AT WHICH TIME ALL FIRING FROM US
FORCES ON CORREGIDOR WILL CEASE. AT THAT TIME TWO SENIOR
STAFF CARRYING A WHITE FLAG WILL PROCEED TO CABCAN DOCK TO
MEET WITH A STAFF OFFICER REPRESENTING GENERAL HOMMA TO
ARRANGE FOR THE FORMAL SURRENDER AND OTHER DETAILS.
UPON RETURN OF HIS STAFF OFFICERS, GENERAL WAINWRIGHT
WILL MAKE HIMSELF AVAILABLE TO MEET GENERAL HOMMA AT A
PLACE TO BE DETERMINED BY YOU.
LIEUTENANT GENERAL JONATHAN WAINWRIGHT.
END MESSAGE.’

“Thank you Lieutenant. I guess all we have to do now is wait.”
On the way back to their quarters Richard said, “I don’t want to
break my cover as an undercover intelligence agent. Is it okay if I strip my
uniform of any signs of being in the U.S. Army when I accompany General
Wainwright to the talks with the Japanese.?”
“Hell yes Sakamoto of course it’s okay. If there is one thing I don’t
want is for you to be arrested for treason and executed by the Japanese.”
Colonel Kimura Yoshio was living alone in a large Spanish style two
story house in the suburbs of Manila. The house had belonged to the
Standard Oil Company President in the Philippines before it was
commandeered by the Japanese Army. Fifteen Taiwanese natives had been
abducted by the army and brought to the Philippines to work as domestics
for high ranking Japanese officers. Kimura occupied the large master
bedroom on the second floor and established his private office in the center
of the large space outside his bedroom. In addition to the domestic help the
army employed a Filipino cook, a gardener and a driver for his large shiny
Buick sedan. Following the Japanese custom boots and shoes were left just
inside the front door and a large rack of slippers were provided for the
occupants and guests.
Kimura was very precise in his habits. Everyday he got up at 6 AM.
He bathed, shaved and put on a starched clean shirt and a pressed

uniform. By 7:15 he was eating a western breakfast of eggs, bacon, and
toast. He liked his coffee black and drank two cups every morning. He did
not smoke or drink excessively.
At 8:30 an army courier delivered the messages and reports that
had accumulated over night, along with the English language newspapers
published in Manila.
He usually read until 10:00 depending on the volume of material
he’d received. He made notes on all but the most routine of message and
filed them in a series of olive drab foot lockers that occupied a second
bedroom. He didn’t use the safe in the master bedroom because he wanted
to be able to ship his files to a new location on a few minutes notice. This
was a practice followed by all Japanese intelligence officers who might be
required to relocate to a new place following the advancing Japanese
Armies. Depending on the course of the war he expected to be in the
Philippines for sometime to come.
General Homma, an old friend, had briefed him when he’d flown in
following the surrender of the American forces in the islands.
“Kimura-san we are having serious troubles with Filipino guerrilla
groups out in the countryside. They are operating with American weapons
and ambush our patrols with out warning. This must be stopped.
“What are they doing besides ambushing our men?”
“They have spies everywhere. The know all of our moves and plans
before we even begin executing them. Our radio signals listening posts hear

them transmitting information south and relaying it from one island to the
next and then onto MacArthur in Australia.”
“Are they transmitting from fixed locations?”
Homma reached down and pulled a small green box from under his
desk. “Look at this radio. It’s U.S. Army issue. Low power but it’s light and
easily moved from one place to another. The guerillas are constantly on the
move or we could easily find and wipe them out.”
“I understand the problem. Give me some time to settle in and study
the problem. It sounds to me like we need a strong counter-intelligence
operation.”
In the days that followed when he was settling in to his new house
Kimura realized that the amount of intelligence materials flowing in for his
consideration was huge. He had to read everything that came across his
desk because it was some little thing that if you didn’t notice it could throw
a huge monkey wrench into the intelligence operations. He asked a junior
officer on his staff to find him an assistant who was fluent in both Japanese
and English.
Two days later a Japanese army staff car pulled up in the drive way
of Kimura’s house. Two military policemen got out and rang the door bell.
“Gomenasai, sorry, but we have a man to be interviewed by Colonel
Kimura.”

“Wait, and I’ll find out if the Colonel is busy.”
“Moments later the maid came out and said, “Colonel Kimura wants
you to bring the man in. Please follow me and I’ll show you the way to his
office.”
The two MP’s dragged a man in handcuffs out of the car and into the
house. They want up a flight of stairs half dragging him.
Colonel Kimura was busy writing notes when the maid opened the
door and the MP’s dragged the man to the front of the desk.
When Colonel Kimura looked up they both saluted. The older of the
MP’s said, “Here is the prisoner we were told to bring you for interview.”
Kimura found him self looking at a man who looked like a Japanese.
He was dressed in a dirty, greasy looking uniform that must have at one
time been a khaki color.
“Take those handcuffs off this man immediately and return to your
post.”
Kimura reached for his telephone, dialed and said, “Takako bring a
pair of slippers and a bag to put shoes in.”
Colonel Kimura came out from behind his desk and asked in
Japanese, “What’s your name? Why did you come here in handcuffs?”
A weak voice responded. “My name is Sakamoto. I am a prisoner.”
“Well Sakamoto you are filthy. After you have a bath and have on a
set of decent clean clothes I will talk with you.”

With extreme difficult Richard did a clumsy about face and walked to
the office door just as the maid came in with slippers and paper bag.
Kimura gave instructions to the maid. “Take his shoes and throw them in
the garbage. This man looks half starved. Have the cook feed him after he’s
had a bath. And find him some clean clothes. Then bring him back up here.”
In the months following General Wainwright’s surrender Richard
had been cruelly interrogated, and tortured by the Kempeitai, the
Japanese secret military police. His body was covered by scars from
cigarette burns that had become infected. His penis was still weeping pus
and was extremely painful. Now here he was fresh out of prison where he
had expected to be taken out and beheaded. He was very suspicious. Why
would he suddenly be taken out to a place like a palace and be treated like
he was a human being? As he lowered his body into the warm water it felt
like nirvana. He washed and filled the tub twice before he felt clean. As he
was toweling himself off the maid came in and laid clean clothes on a chair
and waited. In the kitchen he wolfed down food like he was still in a prison
cell with a guard who might tell him to stop eating and take any uneaten
food away.
When he returned to Colonel Kimura’s office he was offered a seat in
a soft leather chair. “Sakamoto-san we will conduct this interview in both
Japanese and English. Please tell me your story.”
When Richard finished Kimura picked up a thick folder from the
couch he was sitting on. “I have read the full record of your interrogation.

You keep telling the same story over and over. There is no difference in
what you say. How is that possible.”
“Because I am a Japanese American. My parent’s and teachers told
me never to lie and disgrace the family.”
“Why didn’t you take us up on our offer to release you from a
submarine in Hawaii when we offered you the chance to go there and spy
for us.”
“Sir, how could I go there and tell my mother a lie. I left home to take
a job in Manila against my mother’s wishes. How could I go back and lie to
her?”
“It says in your record that you did not breakdown at any time
during your interrogation in spite of the extreme pain you were subjected
to. Can you explain that.”
“From the time I was a small boy until I left school I was brought up
on the stories of the Samurai who swore to die first rather than dishonor
their lord. I loved those stories. They have become part of my character”
“Then you are not an American spy or a traitor to Japan?”
“Colonel Kimura, I am a Japanese American. I am loyal to my
country. I am caught up in a war where everyday both sides do immoral
and terrible things to each other. I am against war but what can one man
do when two great powers decide to fight?”

“Sakamoto-san you are very convincing. I don’t entirely trust you
but I need your help. I want you to go to work for me.”
“When Sir?
“Right now. You will live downstairs in the vacant bedroom, eat in
the kitchen with the rest of my household staff and report to this office at
0800 seven days a week. There is a war on. You will be expected to work
until all the work for the day is done.”
From that day on Richard followed Japanese custom. He took a bath
at night. Prayed to Buddha for the war to end, night and morning. He was
invariably polite to everyone and kept his clothes cleaned and pressed and
his shoes shined.
At first he had nightmares about his torture every night, waking up
in a sweat and unable to get back to sleep. Gradually as the work day’s got
longer he was so tired that most nights he slept through until morning. The
first day of work Colonel Kimura showed Richard the room where the
footlockers were stored. “This is a mess,” Kimura said, “When I started out
I filed everything in order by date. Now there is so much routine garbage
coming in I can’t find the important information. The first thing I want you
to do is try and get things in order so we can quickly find the things I need.”
Richard started with the materials from the day before. It was truly
a mess. Food was delivered from a central warehouse each week by the
Quartermaster section. The first thing Richard picked up was a notice of a
change in what was promised on Monday for the week. The warehouse ran

out of four miscellaneous item that would not be delivered on Thursday.
Miscellaneous statistics on things like how many rounds of ammunition
had been fired in China in the previous month cluttered the files. The dross
was apparently endless but Kimura had saved it all. Richard’s own
intelligence training had stressed prioritizing first and then checking the
information that could be compared with information from other sources.
The first thing he did was create a “burn box.” It wasn’t difficult he had a
lot of practice from his own experience in American intelligence. By noon
the next day he was reading and sorting at a very fast rate. At three
o’clock Kimura told him that he’d been called back to Tokyo and didn’t
know when he’d be back.
“Here Sakamoto-san sit here next to me and watch how I do this.”
Colonel Kimura read a dispatch and then with a colored pencil made
a mark in a color indicating it’s importance. He had a box of 20 different
colors.
“Sir. Do you have a list of the urgency of the items as you mark them
and what the colors mean.”
Kimura tapped his head. “It’s all in here.”
“But Sir, that makes the system usable only by you.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kimura said, “These are my files so I never
considered what someone helping me would do. I tried sewing the different
materials together with black string but that was too slow.”
“When I was a kid in Hawaii my father grew and sold flowers. He had

a system of filing the different colors of the seed from the plants. Maybe I
can remember his system and try something like it while you’re away.”
“Your father is obviously a smarter man than am.” Kimura said
looking over the top of his horn rimmed glasses at Richard.
“You’re trying to sort through a lot more information than my father
had to. The pace of life on a farm is a lot different from the pace of life in a
war.”
Sorting the information coming in everyday Richard could see that
the bulk of the flow was entirely irrelevant to military intelligence. Most of
it was bureaucratic trash generated by people at all levels of the Japanese
Army to make themselves look important. To Richard’s way of thinking the
current radio signals intelligence and the coded Japanese military
communications including unit orders was the most important. He decided
to make a proper filing system and as he put the information away,
memorize the most important information. If he did that he thought then I
can try and find a way to get in contact with the guerillas and have them
relay the information for forwarding to American intelligence in Australia.
The next day the dispatch courier did not arrive at the scheduled
time. Instead a Lieutenant called and said that Kimura would have to send
his driver every day to pick up the dispatch case. But that would be an
inexcusable break in security. Who knew if the Filipino driver was a spy or
not? Richard was momentarily confused. Wearing two hats at the same
time, one as an American intelligence officer and the other as an assistant

to a Japanese intelligence officer was making his head spin. His confusion
didn’t last long. He quickly decided that this might be the perfect time to
explore the possibilities of getting in touch with the Filipino guerillas. Each
day as they drove slowly home from the Army intelligence office they
traveled through a neighborhood of elegant and expensive home. As they
passed one home there was a mature lady that waived to them each time
they went by. One day Richard decided to ask the driver to stop and would
try to strike up a conversation with her.
“Hello, I’m a Japanese American. I came to Manila before the war
and now I am stuck here.”
“I recognized the car. It belongs to the Standard Oil manager.”
“That must be why you waive every time it goes by.”
“Yes, I don’t know what happened to he and his family. They were
nice people.”
“I haven’t any idea where they might have gone. The Japanese took
it over and now Colonel Kimura lives there. I am being forced to work as
his assistant against my will.”
“My husband Ernesto Tupas was arrested by the Japanese and he’s
locked up in Mantinlupa prison here in Manila. I want to visit him but so
far I’ve been turned down by the prison authorities. You don’t know any
way I can get a pass to visit him do you?”
“Why was he arrested?”

“He was arrested along with his friends because he is the leader of a
Guerilla band here on Luzon. The Japanese tracked them down because
they didn’t move their radio transmitter quickly enough.”
“I see information everyday that needs to go to the American Army
in Australia. I’ve been looking for way to get it sent out. I’ve got to go now
but if I find out how to get you a pass I will speak to you soon.”
Richard’s mind was racing. He’d been itching to find a way to help
the American war effort, and now, maybe he was on to something. That
afternoon as he was going through the incoming dispatches he was looking
for a paper clip and he found Colonel Kimura’s official stamp with his seal
engraved in the ivory. He took the red stamp pad and stamped 30 pages of
paper at the bottom of each page. He rolled them into a tube, went to his
room and hid them high behind the bathroom medicine cabinet. That night
he took black ink and a writing brush and made several visitor’s passes to
Mantinlupa prison for Mrs. Tupas. The next day on his way back from
picking up the dispatches he ordered his driver to stop at the Tupas house.
He passed the roll to her and explained what he’d done.
“Just be very careful. And don’t tell anyone where you got these. If
the Japanese find out I’m a dead man.”
“Thank you Mr. Sakamoto. Of course I will not tell anyone even
under the threat of my own death.”
At their first meeting Ernesto Tupas told his wife that he was in
charge of the Prison’s electrical system. He thought he could disable the

prison cell locking system and that if a group of guerillas came out side
with weapons he and the other guerilla prisoners could escape.
“I will make a plan. On your next visit I’ll explain what’s needed and
you can send the houseboy to contact Martino.”
“I am very scared. If the escape fails you may be killed.”
“It won’t fail. Besides it’s like a living death being locked up in this
place.”
One evening, two weeks later Richard was listening to the news in
his room on an old RCA radio. The top story was that there had been a
prison break at Mantinlupa Prison. Two prison guards had been killed and
new prison commander appointed. The Japanese army was offering a one
million peso reward for the capture of Ernesto Tupas. Three days later
Colonel Kimura returned from Tokyo while Richard was picking up the
day’s dispatches. Kimura found a note on his desk describing the new filing
system and went to the room where his footlockers were stored. Richard’s
filing system consisted of color codes marked on the daily file envelopes.
The most important envelopes were marked with a red pencil meaning
“Very Important Read Immediately.”
Kimura thought to himself, Sakamoto-san wa atama ga ii, he’s very
smart. Kimura greeted Richard when he came back with the day’s
dispatches.
“You did a good job while I was gone.”
“Thank you Sir. How was your trip to Tokyo?

“Very worth while. I learned a lot. Things are not going very well for
Japan in this war.”
“Yes, I know. I listen to the news every night and Japan seems to be
on the defensive now.”
“I want you to help me. If Japan loses the war I want to be under
deep cover. I don’t believe in dying for a lost cause.”
“Of course I will help. What do you have in mind?”
“I have a Chinese friend here in Manila. He owns the Palm Gardens
Hotel. His name is Paul Li. I helped him buy the hotel. I am an investor. I
want to take you there and introduce you to Li-san. You will take a room in
the hotel. Move all your things there. Then I will go on a trip to the south in
the Philippines. I will go missing. Killed in action. Then I will come back as
a Filipino and live in the hotel until the Americans come. Be thinking of a
Filipino name and an occupation for me.”
“How about Kino, Ernesto Kino. And you are a trader of rice.”
Kimura laughed. “I like that. And I know a lot about rice I’ve eaten it
almost every day my entire life.”
The Submarine Trout
The submarine Trout reached Hawaii at the end of the first week of
January 1942 and Angier Trout, carrying a small sea bag, was welcomed
aboard by the respectful crew who had been told in advance that he was
the son of a U.S. senator. One of the crew was stricken by appendicitis on

the trip from San Francisco and he was taken to the hospital. A shift in
quarters occurred and Angier was given a bunk just off the officer’s ward
room.
The Trout was lying submerged off Corregidor by the 1st. week in
February. She delivered her cargo of ammunition to the beleaguered forces
on the island. She floated high on her hull and Commander Hardy asked if
there was any thing of value to take on as ballast.
In the meantime Angier Trout interviewed senior staff about the
situation in the Philippines in a meeting called by MacArthur who was
busy directing his armies in the field. Besides he wasn’t about meet a lower
ranking officer even if he was President’s military aide.
Five minutes into the discussion Angier quickly decided that the
situation was awful. When the interview was over he was told by Sid Huff,
MacArthur’s aide that the General wanted Huff to pass on a few words for
President Roosevelt.
“The truth, as you may have guessed is not good. General Homma
has three. Divisions in the field. Our intelligence people believe that that
Homma’s troops are battle hardened troops who’ve fought and gained
experience in the China campaigns. Frankly we are trying to fight a war
with Filipino conscripts who are inexperienced and badly equipped.
General Wainright is a good commander and he has a corps of men who are
Filipinos called the Scouts. These are disciplined, well trained and tough
men. The problem is General Wainwright doesn’t have enough of them.

“So what do you need? The President and General Marshall will need
a list of priorities so the right things get done.”
Huff pulled a list from his pocket. “Medicine and surgical supplies.
We need a big supply of Quinine. Over half our troops have Malaria because
the mosquitoes in Jungle swarm all over our men. Food is in very short
supply. Everyone is on 1/2 rations. We only have food for a month and
we’re going to have to cut the rations again soon. We need heavier artillery.
The Jap planes have destroyed so much of what we had that we are dire
straits on that score.
And of course ammunition is a priority. Our supply is rapidly
running out.”
“Obviously there is only so much we can bring in by submarine,”
Angier said, “You know it’s roughly 8,500 miles from the west coast. The
need to follow a zig-zag course to avoid Japanese subs could triple the
distance to get here. There is already a shortage of shipping and we need a
strong naval escort to make sure our transports get here. How long does
the General think garrison can hold on for a relief convoy to arrive?”
“I’m not really sure. General MacArthur talks as though the
situation can be handled. That’s for public consumption. But he looks more
worried and desperate with each passing day. Things have gotten so bad
that he hates to visit the front because can read the desperation in
everyone’s eyes.
“Okay. If you can loan me a typewriter I can write a report and send

it by radio to the President. It will need to be coded of course. But it is a
confidential message for Mr. Roosevelt’s eyes only.”
“Colonel Trout I can have a typewriter in here 5 minutes. All I have
to do is give the order and it will be delivered. Our radio men all have top
secret clearances so coding won’t be a problem.”
Sid Huff returned with a Filipino steward carrying a typewriter.
“Here’s my own personal machine. I had Sargeant Acosta put a new ribbon
in it. It’s my last one.”
“Thanks. Oh. I have a question. Is there anyway to get in and out of
here besides in a submarine?”
“A few people have gotten out on a Seaplane but it’s very dangerous.
I wouldn’t chance it myself if I had a choice.”
“The reason I am asking is that I was here well before the war and I
had a really nice time. I want to go down to the Manila hotel and see the
place.”
“I certainly wouldn’t advise that Colonel Trout. We can’t predict
when the Japs will strafe and bomb the place again. It’s just too risky.”
Treasure Transfer
Richard, staring out to sea at sun up, was startled by the voice of his
direct superior.
“Lieutenant Sakamoto we have a job for you and a few men. The
Silver coins you brought here from the city take up too much space in the
storage area. They are valuable but we need the room for food and

ammunition. I’d like you to supervise moving the bags offshore as far as
you can, then slit the bags with a knife and dump the coins in the water. If
the Japs succeed in taking over the Island at least they will have less
money to confiscate.”
It was bruising work. The bags were heavy and the small barge they
stowed them on was heavy and difficult to row. They were so low in the
water that small waves kept coming over the gunwales. It was very slow
going. When Richard started to cut the bags open the canvas they were
made off was so thick and heavy that it was hard to slice open the bags.
Finally they resorted to passing the knife around from man to man. When a
bag was ready they leaned back to help stabilize the boat as the silver was
lifted up and dropped into the water.
With the approach of the day’s first light they were only half done.
With four men rowing they moved slowly back to the dock. It would take
two more nights hard work before they finished.

Chapter 38
Balikpapan The Dutch East Indies
Golden Dragon was sailing slowly south to conserve fuel. It was a
long way to Balikpapan and there was no safe place to refuel on the way.
The ship was flying the big Japanese flag from the masthead. Several times
Japanese planes had flown down to check them out and seeing the big red
sun in the middle of a white flag the pilots had waggled their wings and flew
on by. A Zero fighter pilot flew slowly by just above the water, waving to the
crew as he pulled sharply up and flew on.
Colonel Kimura had radioed a safe conduct pass that Otani-san had
written out in Japanese and then carved a half of a potato with Japanese
Characters and stamped the paper in red ink with Kimura’s name, rank
and the imperial crest. Harry felt a little better now that they had a
document in hand to present in case they were stopped and boarded. He
also had locked away a copy of the message he received from Admiral Hart
to show to any allied Ship that boarded Golden Dragon.
So far they hadn’t seen a single allied vessel or airplane but Harry
worried about the Dutch planes based at Balikpapan. He radioed Admiral
Hart to ask for the secret password to be appended to a radio message to
the Dutch Commander on Borneo.
Skip was busily reading the Sailing Directions to the small Port at
Balikpapan. His research had yielded the information that fuel and
supplies could be obtained there because there was a petroleum refinery

and loading facilities as part of the Port.
Francou was now standing a regular watch in the engine room. He
was a quick study and had learned how to disassemble the fuel injectors
and other parts of the big Allison Diesels.
Veronique was despondent and slept long hours when they first left
Saigon but she was slowly recovering her spirit. Then she asked Harry to
teach her how to navigate the ship by taking celestial observations with a
sextant and then working out the ships position using the nautical
almanac. She made rapid progress and She and Harry were often seen out
on deck taking a noon position reading and checking their accuracy by
comparing their positions. At first Veronique’s solutions were off by a few
degrees but after Harry instructed her in how to bring the Sun’s rim down
to the horizon she soon was able to match his observations. He showed how
to develop a position by dead reckoning and draw lines of position on the
nautical charts.
Otani-san spent most of his time listening for Japanese radio
communications and then trying to determine the contents and direction
of the messages. He had one line of direction from Golden Dragon’s radio
direction finder and a second from the RDF signals from Sangley Point’s
Navy radio station. Radio traffic from Japanese ground and naval forces
was overwhelming. There was so much information that had to carefully
winnow the incoming radio traffic. He and Harry had decided to
concentrate on messages from Japanese ships in the direction of central

Java and south towards Borneo since trouble could develop rapidly from
Japanese forces planning an invasion of the Dutch East Indies.
Admiral Hart radioed Golden Dragon that he was leaving the
Philippines with the remainder of his ships headed for the coast of the
Dutch East Indies. He was counting on Dutch land based planes to provide
defensive air cover for his own small fleet. He ordered Harry to collect as
much information as he could and radio the contents to him whenever
anything significant occurred.
TO GEE DOG ONE
ATTEN CAPTAIN KANG
FROM T.C.HART
BALIKPAPAN AND ITS OIL FIELDS ARE CRUCIAL TO PROTECT US
FROM JAPANESE INVASION. THIS IS A GREAT RESPONSIBILITY BUT
YOU AND YOUR CREW HAVE DONE BRILLIANT INTELLIGENCE
COLLECTION IN THE PAST. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. IT IS OF UTMOST
IMPORTANCE FOR THE SUCCESS OF OUR MISSION IN ASIA. GOOD LUCK
T.C. HART
Food was beginning to be a problem. There was plenty of rice on
board but their protein supply and fresh vegetables were almost gone. The
cook came to Harry with the problem.
“Captain Harry. Food supply is no good. Rice OK but man cannot live
on Rice alone. We must fishing. Okay?”
Harry reached into his desk drawer and took out a tackle box.

“Here are fishing hooks and line. Also lead weights to keep the gear
under water. The spinners will attract some big fish so be ready to haul
them in.”
The cook’s face broke out in a big smile. “Captain Harry is great.
Think of everything. Plan ahead. Very good! Very good!”
The next morning just after dawn there was a great commotion on
the deck. Harry went down as the crew crowded around the cook. On the
deck was a giant fish. It’s silver sides flashed in the early morning Sun.
“What the devil is that?” Skip asked.
“It’s a blue fin tuna, Skip. One of the biggest fish in the open ocean.”
“That fish must weigh eight hundred pounds.”
“More like one thousand, Skip that’s a very big fish.”
The weather was hot and humid. Great billowing clouds formed on
the horizon and then were blown away. There looked like a storm brewing
in the direction of the Philippines but it was not the hurricane season and
they were unable to get any weather information from the ship’s radio.
Late in the afternoon Harry called his officers together for a powwow.
“I don’t like the exposure out here,” Harry said, “It’s just too damned
quiet.”
“Yeah,” Skip said, “We haven’t heard anything on the radio and not a
single plane has flown by.”
“The radio should be able to give us some indication. At sundown the
reception will improve and maybe we can hear the Dutch or the Japanese

ground stations. I’ll start now and listen continuously until we hear
something,” Otani said.
“Good idea. I’ll ask Veronique to spell you all day and tonight. Let’s
do hour listening stints.”
Harry looked at his watch. “It’s 0930 now. I’ll ask her to be on deck
at 1030. It looks like it’s going to be a long day.”
After speaking with Veronique, Harry pulled out the charts for the
Borneo coast and Balikpapan. The course he laid out had kept them well off
the coast all the way down. There was not much detail for the land on the
charts and there were large hatched areas labeled “Not Charted. No Datum
available.” Harry knew that old volcanic action had thrown up under water
sea mounts in many places, and that all the older captains had a healthy
respect that kept them well out from land. There was a constant danger of
grounding for deep draft ships. The Chinese treasure ships had sailed this
whole area in ancient times and there was only one shipwreck of a big
Junk in the annals of Chinese maritime history and it had occurred in this
area.
Skip came on deck and said, “What’s it look like Harry?”
“There’s not much to go by Skip. We’ve got to keep a careful watch
and see if we can spot danger well before it gets here. If we’re lucky we just
might be far enough ahead of the Japanese to be able to get to Balikpapan
before they do.”
“I sure as hell hope so Skipper. Maybe we should crank on a little

more speed.”
“That’s a good idea. Our dead reckoning has us here, we’re a day out
of the port at Balikpapan. We can refuel if we get there soon enough.”
The cook made a fish stew for lunch and the crew stretched a canvas
over the deck so they could all eat in the shade on a table made out of spare
hatch covers. Harry and Veronique served everyone and there was much
laughing and joking.
“There is nothing like a happy crew.” Harry said, “These are good
people.”
“That’s because you are a good Captain, Harry.”
“Not really. They weeded out the people they didn’t like. It was a kind
of natural selection process. If I’d been responsible I’d have made some bad
mistakes. I learned long ago that I’m just okay knowing who’s good and
who’s going to make trouble.”
“Yes, Harry I know. But you are a great leader because you know
what your strength and weaknesses are.”
Harry grinned and said, “Well I know one big weakness I have. I am
just crazy about you.”
Veronique pinched Harry’s leg under the table. “See now you know
just how great you really are.”
The port at Balikpapan was not very large. There was a quay for
loading petroleum and gasoline on the tankers that served the port. The
afternoon they arrived there was a US Navy oiler Brimstone taking on a

load of gasoline and bunker oil for the navy ships they carried fuel to.
Harry and Skip went over to the oiler and asked for the Captain.
The young ensign on watch pointed across the road to a low lying
gray two story building. “He’s at the Dutch Officer’s Club, Captain. We’re
scheduled out of here in about an hour and it looks like we’ll be on time.
You can catch Captain Jarvis there if you hurry.”
“This place isn’t much of anything is it,” Skip said, “ It’s pretty hot
dry and dusty.”
“Well, a lot of oil flows out of here, Skip. The rainy season is in June
and July and then I imagine this place is pretty muddy.”
“Where are the oil wells?””
“I have no idea. There is such a tangle of pipes and things going off
in every direction it’s impossible to tell. I guess we can find out when we
talk with Captain Jarvis.”
The officer’s club bar was dimly lit. Or it seemed that way when you
first stepped inside out of the sun. They recognized Captain Jarvis by his
uniform. He was sitting at a table with one other officer dressed in a tan
uniform of the Dutch service.
“Gentlemen, my name is Harry Kang and this is my chief engineer
Skip Moran. We just pulled in to port half an hour ago.”
“My name’s Jarvis We heard you were coming from fleet
headquarters. It’s a good thing you got here early. The minelayer
Soemenap is going to mine the harbor tonight. This is Lieutenant Colonel

van den Hoogenbrand, the Commander of the Dutch forces here.”
After the meeting formalities were over Harry started to ask
questions. “I’m sorry to be so much in the dark. We’ve been at sea for
nearly a month now and haven’t had much news. What’s going on?”
The Japanese fleet is on the move. We expect them any time. There
are 12 transports, 15 destroyers. With that many transports there may be
as many as 10,000 troops headed our way.”
“How strong are your forces?”
“We’ve got 4 destroyers and eleven hundred garrison personnel,
mostly “infantry. We have a small artillery complement and anti-aircraft
guns but obviously we are no match for the Japanese.”
“Any relief coming Captain Jarvis?”
“Not immediately. Admiral Glassford and his ships are too far away.
And command hasn’t made up its mind what to do.”
“What are your orders Colonel?
“We are to load as many ships as we can with oil before the Japanese
get here. Then I expect we will get an order to destroy the wells and the
piping. My idea is to blow up the loading facilities first and then try to do
the wells. It all depends on having enough time to do the job.”
“What then?”
“I expect to get orders to withdraw inland to the interior at
Samarinda. We have so few troops in Borneo that we must go on the
defensive and withdraw because we don’t want to loose the few forces we

have.”
“That sound’s pretty grim. How about the US Navy?”
“The latest word is that Admiral Hart was evacuated from Manila on
the submarine Snark. He’s probably in Java and will share command with
the Dutch Admiral Doorman.”
“What happened? He was supposed to bring his surface fleet over
and try to stop the Japanese advance.”
“Captain Kang the situation has gone from bad to extremely bad in
just a few weeks. What is your role out here?”
“Undercover Naval intelligence. We’ve been on the China coast and
the South China Sea until we got orders to head here. We have only light
firepower and are not going to be any help for any kind of fight. Obviously
we are going to need a new set of orders. How can we reach Admiral Hart?”
“We have radio contact Captain Kang. If you come to my ship we can
send Admiral Hart a message.” Jarvis said.
Later that night Harry, Otani-san, and Veronique went to Jarvis’s
ship to use the radio. Harry had his code book and had already composed a
message to be relayed to Admiral Hart. They were boarded and taken to
Captain Jarvis’s wardroom where sat around a conference table and talked
while waiting for their message to be transmitted.
“I’m sorry Miss Moitessier, this old oiler is not a very fancy ship but
we are honored to have you all aboard. Have you people had dinner? We
can have drinks if you don’t mind a limited choice from my supply.”

“Thank you Captain. We’ve already had dinner but a drink would be
nice.” Veronique said, “I’d like some wine if it is available.”
“Good. I’ve got some wine from Australia. It’s not French but it’s
pretty good. How about you Captain Kang...Otani-san?”
They both ordered coffee.
“Captain Jarvis, can you tell us what you know about how it’s going
in the Philippines.” Harry said.
“Yes, well the news is not good. The navy base at Cavite was
destroyed by a Japanese air raid. The fires there raged for days. The bulk
of the munitions there blew up and a lot of people were killed. The army is
being pushed back towards Manila and there is no air cover because the
Air Force was wiped out on the ground by a surprise raid. So far there has
not been any sign of a relief convoy from Pearl Harbor. Lot’s of rumors
about it but Admiral Hart thinks that if it is coming it is going to Australia.
This is just my personal opinion but I think the powers that be in
Washington are going to use Australia as a base to prepare for an offensive
strike up the Pacific. What the tactics will be are beyond my imagination
but it’s clear we are no match for the Japanese in our present condition.
What do you think?
“We’ve been watching the Japanese operations in China for a long
time. The allied forces are no match for the Japanese military machine
now. It will take a total mobilization at home to beat them back. Let’s face it
we are in two wars one in Europe and the other one here in the Pacific.”

The officer in charge of communications entered the wardroom with
a message for Captain Kang. It was marked TOP SECRET--URGENT.
“I will leave you so you can decode the message. When you are
finished just use the phone there and I will come back.”
“He’s a very professional officer isn’t he,” Otani said.
“Yes, he is a Naval Academy graduate.”
“Harry, how do you know that?” Veronique asked.
“It’s pretty easy. He wears the Naval Academy ring on his right
hand.”
Otani was working on decoding Hart’s message. “It’s not very long.
I’ll have it all in a few minutes.”
‘To: Gee Dog One. From: T. C. Hart.
Captain Kang, good to hear you made Balikpapan. Sorry I am not
there to talk with you. As you may know the overall situation is not
good. Cavite destroyed. No Air Cover and Submarines not effective due
to age and defective torpedoes. On the ground it is only a matter of time
before the Philippines fall to the enemy.
I have been asked to participate in a Joint Command of the
ABCED forces in South East Asia with Dutch Admiral Dooman.
Orders are going out to mine the harbor, destroy the oil facilities
at Balikpapan, and withdraw inland to regroup.
Do not get involved in a fight with the Japanese. Your services
are too valuable in intelligence. Refuel, re-supply and head for Darwin

Australia. When you arrive there, let me know. I will know more and
be able to give you more substantial duties later.
Exercise maximum caution.
Good luck,
T. C. Hart.’
The three friends sat and looked at each other. Finally Harry said,
“Well we are going on another cruise. Best enjoy it while we can. How soon
do you think we can be out of here Otani-san?”
“It depends how soon we can refuel and get some supplies. Otherwise
we can move out pretty quickly. Why don’t we ask Captain Jarvis to refuel
us while we look for the things we need?”
Harry reached for the phone. “Captain Jarvis please. Yes, Captain
Jarvis can you come back. There is news in this message that concerns you
and your people.”
When Captain Jarvis returned Harry handed him the message.
“No good news here is there? I can refuel your ship from here. Get
you on your way quickly. Is there anything else you need?
“Food.” Otani said.
“We’ve got several freezers full of New Zealand lamb. And we’ve got a
new stock of canned goods. We should be able to get you out of here in a
couple of hours.”
“Otani-san get Golden Dragon tied up along side and start refueling.
Veronique go with Captain Jarvis’s people and start collecting the food we

need. I’ll stay here and talk with Captain Jarvis about what to expect on
our way to Darwin.”

After Veronique and Otani left Harry asked Captain Jarvis a series of
questions.
“We haven’t got many charts to use on our way South. Can you let me
go over you sailing directions and get a copy of a chart or two?”
Jarvis reached for the phone. “Lt. Smith, get a set of Charts from
here to Darwin. And make a quick copy of our sailing directions. Yes, I need
them ASAP. Thanks.”
“Thanks Captain. Couldn’t ask for better service.”
“No problem. What did you think of Admiral Hart’s message?”
“I’ve known him for a long time and worked for him just about as
long. He’s always had a can-do attitude. He’s an optimistic head’s up
Commander. He sounds really worried. His last message concerned the
British and Singapore. He thinks Singapore will be lost to the Japanese.
They have air power and the British don’t have any carriers in the area.
Their two ship fleet of a new battleship and a cruiser will be sunk by a few
bombs and then it’s all over for Singapore.”
Jarvis looked down and thought for a minute. “We are in the same
shape. This old oiler is a sitting duck. I try not to show what I am feeling to
my crew but everybody on board knows the situation.”
“When are you sailing?”
“There’s no telling. I expect we will leave tomorrow night after dark
and head for Darwin ourselves.”
“In that case you will pass us on the way. We don’t sail very fast, and

we are always conscious of our need to make our fuel go as far as it can.”
“Jarvis laughed. I hope you don’t have to take us under tow because
we’ve been hit by a Jap bomb. Oh, I almost forgot the mines. Here are the
coordinates to get you out of this harbor. There’s no telling when the
minelayer will finish mining the entrance to the harbor.”
Golden Dragon left Balikpapan just in time. Just after the minelayer
Soemenep finished laying her screen of protective mines word came that a
large invasion fleet was headed to Balikpapan. A formation of Dutch
bombers attacked the convoy but despite the attack the Japanese
Commander pressed forward and landed three miles southeast of
Balikpapan Airport. The assault unit landed and met with no resistance
and by dawn the next day had secured the airport.
Colonel van den Hoogenband had ordered his troops to destroy the
bridges on the road leading from the airport to Balikpapan city. They were
busy destroying the pipelines from the wells. The oil tanks and the loading
quay were dynamited but the wells were left with little damage.
By the time the Japanese crossed into the city the Dutch forces had
withdrawn and were on their way to the interior.
After Balikpapan was secured a new infantry regiment commanded
by Lt. Colonel Kume was ordered to protect the oil fields and the Japanese
engineers quickly went to work repairing the pipelines and tanks. The
main force and the ships departed for Banjarmasin in south Kalimantan
where there was a rich source of oil, rubber, timber and coal. The Japanese

operations planners had targeted the place as a good jumping off point for
the invasion of Java.

Chapter 39
Darwin: Western Australia
Australia is a dry and dusty country and Darwin is a lonely outpost
far from any other major city in Australia. When Golden Dragon put into
port the harbor was congested with ships of every description. Harry
decided that with the Japanese striking so swiftly on every front that
Darwin was not a safe place to be. The town itself consisted of flimsy
wooden buildings and there were no preparations going on for any kind of
defense.
The Japanese High Command was hell bent on rapidly securing Java
where vital resources so badly needed by their military machine could
most easily be had. With security of supply uppermost in their mind it was
decided to make a strike to end any threat from Australia by destroying
the allied base at Darwin. Admiral Nagumo, his carriers, and pilots was
pressed into action. The striking force was augmented by two battleships
and three heavy cruisers commanded by Vice Admiral Kondo.
Kondo and Nagumo conferred and decided to strike Darwin by air
with a force of land based bombers and carrier planes in the most powerful
hammering since Pearl Harbor. Their combined fleet sailed south at night
headed for the southern part of Timor sea through the dangerous waters of
the Banda sea.
“If we move swiftly at night we will avoid any American submarines
and be able to launch our planes early in the morning just as we did in

Hawaii.” Nagumo said, “With surprise we should avoid any serious losses.”
“Admiral, my staff has calculated that we will be able to launch land
based bombers from Ambon and Kendaria flight of 54 in total. With your
carrier based planes we will be able to hit the enemy hard with a total of
242 planes.”
“Yes, I expect our mission will be successful. After all Darwin is
nowhere as well defended as Pearl Harbor was.”
“So des ne, that true, our intelligence is very accurate.”
Harry conferred with Skip and Otani-san. “I don’t like the situation
here in Darwin. The Japanese are moving too fast. If they launch an air
attack against this place we could wind up on the bottom.”
“Yeah, this place is too crowded. There’s no room to maneuver,”
Otani said, “Where should we go?”
“How about west to that place called Broome. There can’t be as many
ships there.” Harry said, “How’s our fuel supply Skip?”
“Captain Jarvis is out on the outside of the pack why don’t we go
over there and top off our tanks.”
As they approached the oiler Brimstone Captain Jarvis came on
deck and waved to them. When they tied up alongside he said, “You made
good time coming down here. How was the trip?”
“Couldn’t have been easier thanks to you,” Harry said, “Have you
offloaded all your fuel?”
“Not a chance. We’ve been anchored out here for two days. It’s so

crowded here we only managed to fuel the Huston yesterday just before she
left to join up with Glassford’s fleet. How about a sip?” We’ve got wine,
coffee and gasoline. You can have all three plus lunch.”
Harry went aboard Jarvis’s ship. As they shook hands he said, “We
will have a sip of diesel but I don’t like this place. If the Japs show up with
airplanes we will wind up on the bottom anchored here. There’s no radar
installation and the Japanese carriers have a long fast reach. We’d never
get a warning in enough time to do anything about an attack.”
“My sentiments exactly. I’ve radioed Admiral Hart and I’m hoping to
get permission to cruise around outside of this place until I can unload.”
Japanese Attack Darwin
Having successfully sailed south without being detected by
submarines or scout planes, the fleet prepares to launch it’s planes. At first
light Admiral Nagamo gives the order for his carriers turn into the wind
and launch their planes. The flagship raises the “Z” flag and the first planes
race down the deck and are on their way to Darwin.
On the Golden Dragon, Otani-san and Veronique listen all night for
any Japanese or English radio transmissions. As the sun rises in the East
they hear the ragged transmissions from allied ships in Darwin harbor.
“Captain Kang, it looks like we got away in the nick of time. Darwin is
under attack by a swarm of Japanese planes. Half of the ships in the
harbor are already sunk at anchor and they are strafing and bombing the
town. It looks like a disaster is happening,” Otani said.

“Damn. I hate being right at a time like this. But I’m sure as hell
happy we got away from there.”
Skip came on deck with mid-morning coffee. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just like Harry predicted,” Veronique said, “The Japanese are
attacking Darwin town and harbor. Many ships are already sunk.”
A glum mood came over them as they began to realize the fate of
their shipmates in Darwin. “I sure as hell hope Captain Jarvis and the
Brimstone got away ok,” Harry said, “It would be a shame if anything
happened to he and his crew.”
“What do we do now Harry?”
“Try to get some orders from Admiral Hart or someone else in
command. Let’s stay on the radio and listen to see if we get a message.”
By the time the day was over the sad news came in. The list was
awful. The Darwin base had, for all practical purposes disappeared. Eight
ships were lost. Nine were so badly damaged it didn’t look like they could
be repaired. Eighteen aircraft were wiped out along with all the stores, and
the airport was demolished. The town was burned to the ground and the
people who lived in Darwin fled out of fear that the attack would be
repeated.
Golden Dragon was lying anchor down at Broome’s small port when
a short radio message from Admiral Hart came in asking if they had
survived the raid. Harry composed a reply and gave a quick summary of
what they knew about the situation at Darwin. Within an hour a message

came back from Hart.
‘To: Gee Dog One. From: T.C.Hart
Lucky Captain Kang and Crew don’t give up the Ship just yet.
General MacArthur and his staff have been ordered to Australia to plan
for and stage a return to offense in the Pacific. MacArthur has asked
for a ship to carry supplies and messages to coast watchers and guerilla
bands in the islands as far as northern Luzon. Because of your low
profile and special relationship to Colonel Kimura of Japanese army
intelligence who is now in Manila you are perfect for the job. Because
this is an extremely dangerous assignment I want you to think about it
and let me know what you want to do. MacArthur is still enroute to
Australia by plane from Mindanao so take your time to decide. I will
transmit at 2100 hrs local time Broome. Listen in daily at that time for
a message from me. I will advise on the MacArthur situation as soon as
he and his intelligence people make up their minds. If you need funds
just ask.
T.C. Hart’
Veronique’s Question
Everyone on Golden Dragon was exhausted from the stress of the
previous days and nights. Harry called everyone on deck and told them to
set normal light sentry watches and get a good night’s sleep. Before long
the crew was sound asleep in their bunks. Harry and Veronique were lying
in their bunk talking.

“Harry what is the true meaning of “extremely dangerous?”
“When Admiral Hart says that he is telling us that we are going to go
into a situation where we have less than a 50% chance of surviving. It is
not good news.”
“But you are the Captain of us, Harry. How will you decide such a
thing?”
“Right now I have no idea. I will present the situation to the crew,
Skip, Otani-san, and you must have a say in this.”
“This is the true meaning of the idea of “Democracy” isn’t it. It was
only a word to me before. I had a small idea of what it means but now I feel
it’s meaning right here,” she said as she pointed to her heart.
“Not one person in thousands of people understands that, even in
America. To most Americans it is just some patriotic word that people have
no idea about.”
“Harry, I owe my understanding to you. For this I am grateful.”
“Veronique, the longer we are together the more I know that we were
meant to be together.”
“Harry, I knew it the moment I set my eyes on you.”
They had a long laugh about the sweetness of their lives and then fell
into a deep sleep.

The Merchant Fleet in the Philippines
Before leaving Manila Admiral Hart had called all the Master
Mariners, skippers of the privately owned ships in Manila harbor together
and told them the truth about the situation. He said that in his own opinion
a course south to Australia was the safest choice. “You are free to decide
what to do. Unfortunately I have no ships available to escort you south or
anywhere else.”
There were many questions and after Admiral Hart had finished
answering them they all elected to leave immediately and steam south.
Three day’s later the submarine S-40 reported that a Japanese plane had
attacked and sunk a Norwegian freighter off Mindinao. A week later Hart
received a message from the Australian naval commander. All the rest of
the ships had made it safely to Australia.
Admiral Hart’s Escape
By the time Admiral Hart decided to leave Manila there was no way
to travel except in a submarine so he boarded USS Shark. Ordinarily
Admirals do not travel in submarines but Hart was a practical man and he
really had no other choice. As the Shark moved carefully south towards
Surabaya, Admiral Hart slept. He was exhausted from the sleepless nights
and days trying to stem the Japanese tide with such limited resources.
The sub’s executive officer spoke to the Shark’s skipper. When I see
how tired Admiral Hart looks I wonder if I really want the responsibility of
high command.”

“Yeah, he looks bushed. We’ve got our troubles but he’s got the whole
Asiatic Fleet’s problems on his shoulders. I can’t imagine how much stress
he must be under. The way I see it from here, the damned Japs are winning
the war and we can’t seem to stop them. I feel sorry to those poor people
trying to defend on land. What a miserable situation that must be. I
wouldn’t be an infantry man for all the tea in China.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Well, he must be in a big hurry to get there.
Word is that he’s to take command of all the ships we have floating out
here. I guess President Roosevelt and Admiral Stark thinks he’s the best
man for the job.”
“What’s our ETA in Surabaya?”
“0430 in the morning if nothing slows us down.”
At midnight the Chief Engineer reported a hot bearing in the
starboard engine. “We’d better shut it down Skipper. If we burn it out I
don’t have any idea where we can get a replacement.”
On one engine the Shark’s speed slowed considerably. Quick
calculations pushed their ETA back until early afternoon.
“It’s no use waking Admiral Hart up to let him know we’re going to
be late getting there. There is nothing he can do to speed us up.”
“I was just doing some entries in our log and realized that tonight is
New Year’s Eve. What shall we do?”
“I order you to get on the intercom and sing Happy New Year’s to the
crew at the stroke of 02400. After all it is going to be 1942.”

“Sorry Sir, you’ve heard me sing. I can’t carry a tune and we don’t
want to kill the moment.
“Well I am sure as hell not going to do it. Why don’t you order the
cook to come up with some grog for everyone. We’ll have a British navy
kind of New Years.”
When the Dutch picket boat guarding the roadstead outside the port
of Surabaya first saw the Shark surface just out side it was flying the four
starred flag of an Admiral of the United States Navy. Confusion reigned for
a few minutes until someone had the good sense to radio the port.
The situation was not promising. Hart was no longer young and the
strain would have put down a lesser man. Once on shore Hart quickly
rallied and took command. His normal optimism and determination
impressed everyone in Surabaya.
“Gentlemen, our problems are many. We cannot let our spirits down.
The major problem is that by the grace of the Naval Operations in
Washington our repair and supply base is a good distance away in Darwin.
With persistence and attention to detail we can overcome our problems
and give the enemy the licking he deserves. From now on we are on a 24
hour a day schedule. Each of us will work a 12 hr. shift until this war is
over. That doesn’t leave us much time to sleep but the enemy is working
every bit as hard, and to win this war we’ve got to do better then they can
imagine. My door is always open to help you solve problems. Good luck and
Godspeed.”

Hart knew that it would be sometime before the various allied
commands in Surabaya sorted things out between them. The new
command was activated on the 15th of January, 1942 by the Combined
Chiefs of Staff, it was named “ABDACOM” for the American, British, Dutch
and Australian elements. The area of the theatre included the Dutch East
Indies, Burma, the Philippines, the South China Sea and the northeastern
area of the Indian Ocean.
ABDACOM was the first attempt at a joint command in the Pacific.
Admiral Hart immediately recognized the flaws in the plan. Under this
arrangement he was still in command of the Asiatic Fleet. The flaw was
that he had to delegate his national and administrative responsibilities to
his own chief of staff, Rear Admiral Purnell.
Without telling Admiral Hart the arrangement was abandon at the
end of January when Secretary Knox promoted Glassford to the rank of
Vice Admiral and ordered him to assume command of all the United States
Naval forces in the Southwest Pacific. Five days later Admiral Hart was
relived as Commander in Chief of the Asiatic Fleet an organization which
was never abolished. Instead it’s fate was to linger and die slowly on it’s
own . Even the Admirals were unsure of what their roles really were.
General Wavell in his headquarters asked Admiral Hart to base
himself in the interior of Java at Lembang in the interior of Western Java.
Hart noted that communications were a very big problem. Radio and wire
connections were unreliable and slow when they worked. The Asiatic Fleet

was deployed at the only possible place-- Surabaya where logistical support
was available. Unfortunately Darwin was twelve-hundred miles away and a
poor choice as a service base. The tenders and tankers of the Asiatic fleet
had been sent there at the end of December and the Navy Department
didn’t want to make a change. The reasons for this were obviously political.
The United States was throwing a plum to Australia in an effort to keep
them in the War. Admiral Hart could see that his difficulties of divided
command could well result in his downfall.
In Broome the people on Golden Dragon waited. The previous weeks
of stress gradually receded in their consciousness. After the locals hosted a
party for the crew the difficulties in communications so frustrated every
one on both sides every one lost interest in inter cultural exchange. Skip
decided that the only way to make the crew happy was to organize a base
ball game using cricket bats. The crew split in half and appointed two
popular crew members as team captains. They played every morning for
several hours on a grassy pitch. The locals turned out en-mass to watch the
games
Harry, Veronique and Otani acted as umpires and referees. There
were more laughs and good fun than anyone could have predicted. The
Mayor of Broom announced that the town would award a prize to the side
with the most wins and the intensity of the play increased. Two weeks
passed and one night a message from Admiral Hart arrived by radio.

‘To Gee Dog One. From: T.C. Hart.
Some details have emerged about the assignment I mentioned in
my last message. General MacArthur is headquartered in Brisbane and
wishes to discuss the matter with Captain Kang in person. The idea as I
understand it is to establish a group called the “Alamo Scouts.” This
would be a well trained group of undercover guerrilla leaders and
troops to operate an intelligence network on various islands to be
selected after tactical plans have been decided. MacArthur is counting
on supply by submarine and Golden Dragon where submarines, for
reasons of shallow sea depth. cannot operate.
What say you? MacArthur requests an answer by the end of
January. Please advise ASAP.
T.C. Hart.’
The fat was suddenly in the fire. Harry asked Skip to announce the
end of the “Baseball” season.
The next day at a community breakfast the whole town turned out to
see team “Zed” get a consolation prize. Then they announce team “A” Both
awards were the same, a mule collar nailed to a board with a horse shoe in
the center. Team “Zed’s” prize the horse-shoe was painted black. Team “A’s”
horseshoe was painted gold.
Skip said, “They are a pretty sharp bunch for country bumpkins
aren’t they.

Harry responded. “I am never surprised by what smart people at
every level of society can do. I spent time in China when I was just a kid
with the peasants. They were the most resourceful people I have ever
known. Just think about our own crew. They weeded out the dummies
faster than a speeding bullet.”
The following morning early Harry called a general meeting of
everyone on Golden Dragon. After explaining what their choices were he
gave everyone two days to think and talk about what they were being
asked to do.
That night there were heated discussions among the crew long into
the night. By morning the crew had separated into little groups to talk
quietly. That evening after dinner the baseball team captains asked to meet
privately with Harry.
“We have decided and want to tell you our thinking.”
“That was quick. Are you sure you don’t need more time?”
They both said “No, we are ready.”
“Let’s sleep on it tonight and meet in the morning after breakfast,”
Harry said.
Later, Harry told Veronique, Skip and Otani-san that the crew was
ready with a decision. “What do you all think?”
Otani-san said, “Captain, there is no other choice than to carry on. I
can’t imagine what I would do trying to watch the war from the sidelines.
And where would I go to watch.”

Skip nodded. “In for a penny, in for a dollar. I’m going to put all I have
into the fight.”
Harry looked at Veronique. “I am with you Harry, whatever
happens.”
“Thanks friends. I never thought for a minute that you’d say
anything else. Now let’s wait and see what the crew says in the morning
after breakfast.
For all concerned it was a go. Harry asked Veronique to travel with
him to Brisbane. “No Harry. Naturally I want to go but it is better you go
alone. You will be very busy and I must prepare our space. Clean up and
polish the floors. You know I want to do some woman’s work.”
The train to Brisbane only ran once a week. At noon the next day
Harry bought a ticket and stepped aboard. Before he left he wrote a
message for Otani-san to send to Admiral Hart at 2100. As the train rattled
along for over two days and nights he thought back over the months since
they left Indo-China. This stage in their journey seemed inevitable to him.
Each link between events presaged by what had gone before so many years
ago in China with his mother and father. Strange he thought ‘Life is a
continuity we will never fully understand, or be able to predict exactly
what the future will bring.’
Brisbane
Harry, dusty and tired, was met outside the weathered station in
Brisbane by a large Woolsey Limousine. The driver smartly dressed in

uniform, saluted Harry and put his luggage in the trunk. “It’s not far to
Headquarters Sir. You are going to meet first with General Sutherland,
General MacArthur’s Chief of staff. The schedule is pretty tight because so
much is going on. General MacArthur told me to tell you that he is sorry
but the press of business will keep him at his desk until dinner time. You
are invited to dinner tonight at 2000 hrs. Dress is informal.
General Sutherland was waiting for Harry and saw him as soon as
Harry walked into the General’s outer office.
“Thanks for coming so soon Captain Kang. I’ve been looking forward
to meeting you after Admiral Hart told us about your contributions to the
Asiatic Fleet over such a long and dangerous time.”
Harry smiled. “Well Admiral Hart is proud of all his fleet as well he
should be. I’ve just been sailing around the edges keeping my eyes open.
I’m lucky to have the best brains in intelligence behind me and a great
crew out in front. All I do is put a little glue and fuel on the operation from
time to time.”
“Well, I’m sure the real truth lies somewhere in the middle. We have
a lot to cover in a short time. Let’s go into the conference room so I can use
the blackboard You can freshen up in the bath room just off the conference
room.”
Harry was astonished by McArthur’s conference room. The table
was a huge shining polished wood oval. The arm chairs were upholstered in
leather. There was a huge map of the pacific in the center of two large

blackboards and someone had carefully written down an agenda so
Sutherland could speak from without notes.
Sutherland took up a pointer and walked to the map. “Captain Kang
as I know you are aware so far we’ve been loosing this war out here. Since
we allowed the Japanese to sneak up on us at Pearl Harbor we’ve had a hell
of a fight on our hands. Our government by it’s absolute commitment to
beat Hitler first has starved our forces in the Pacific of everything we need
to beat them on the battleground. All that’s a given. I know you agree with
our position here in General MacArthur’s command. In the little time we
have been here we’ve been busy throwing together a strategic and
operational plan for victory in the Pacific. Based here as we are in
Australia you can see the obvious targets. Unfortunately the Japs can see
them too. What we are going to do is to hit them in the most unlikely places
and to do that we need a maximum effort from our intelligence component.
Our code name for this operation is “Alamo Scouts.”
“Who’s going to be Davy Crockett,” Harry asked, “I already know
who the frontiersmen are.”
Southerland laughed. “We have “Davey Crockett” on deck. He’s
already organizing. You may get to meet him later before you go back to
your ship. His second in command in the field has been select by him but
we haven’t signed him on yet. We’ll be meeting with him as soon as you are
on your way. As you will see you have a long way to go to take up your
station.”

“How soon will we be expected to get underway?”
We want you to operate near Cebu in the Visayan islands. The sea is
too shallow for our submarines to operate there and our PT boats make to
much noise. You can go slowly in under sail, and a Japanese flag and meet
the Filipino guerrillas to pick up their intelligence reports, deliver
ammunition and supplies, and talk with the American guerrilla
commanders on the ground. We are hoping you can get to Cebu by the end
of February or the first of March.”
“That’s a pretty short schedule.” I’ve got some preparing to do in
Manila.”
“All the more reason we need to quickly get you briefed and on your
way. We could start tonight after dinner if General MacArthur meets you
and approves. How does that sound.?”
“The only obstacle is that the train only goes once a week to Broome.
If there is any way to fly me back with a bush pilot let’s arrange that.”
“Great idea. We’ve got a two engine small plane and an experienced
Australian bush pilot on loan.”
“Okay. What about the details on the blackboard?”
“It’s a skeleton outline of how and where we plan to operate.”
“Obviously you’ve got it on paper. Why don’t you run through it and
show me on the chart where the intended locations are going to be. I’ve got
a pretty good memory because I navigate from charts and they trigger my
brain so I can lock it down.”

“Then let’s start from Manila. We have an organization already
functioning in Manila. There is an American army officer with a band of
guerillas gathering information and forwarding it through a Filipino
businessman who visits Cebu City three times a month.”
“What’s the code name for the operation?”
“Horseback.”
Anything else in Manila?”
“Yes, Operation “Downtown.” Our contact operates a club and a
brothel for Japanese officers. All of the hostesses working there are
collecting intelligence. It’s reported out every morning to “Horseback”. We
are intending to build a second back up operation to insure that all the high
priority material gets through to us quickly.”
“Have we got an agent inside the Japanese officer ranks?”
“Yes, there is a Japanese American undercover agent who is
developing a relationship with a Colonel in the Japanese Army Intelligence
agency. It’s moving along pretty smoothly and we have high hope for the
operation.
“And the code name?”
“Game of Jacks.” That completes our present operations in the
Manila area. It’s time for a short break. I’ll have some lunch brought in.
The head is just through that door.”
While they were eating. Southerland said. “I understand your ship is
privately owned and under contract to the U.S. Navy.”

“Yes, my business partner in Hong Kong and I own it together. He
keeps the books manages the business we use as a cover. As you can
imagine we can’t buy insurance so the risk is pretty high.”
“Normally that comes with a high price. Does the Navy cover your
insurance?”
“No. If we loose the ship and the crew we are considered to be
expendable. The Navy never has to admit that it has had anything to do
with us. Better security that way. My officers are the only ones who know
what’s up and they’re solid guys. We’ve sailed together a long time. As you
know security is the most important thing in an intelligence operation.
Most operations leak like a sieve. Ships that leak sink.”
“That’s a joke that isn’t a joke.”
“I guarantee that it isn’t a joke to a sailor.”
Just before dinner, Harry met the great man himself who turned on
the charm and started spreading the gospel according to MacArthur. He
kept repeating that the management of the war in Washington by
Roosevelt and his henchmen was completely misguided. The real war
according to “God” was in the southwest Pacific.
“I know that all the younger naval officers like yourself agree with
me that it was a mistake to send our carriers to the Atlantic to fight Hitler.
I say let the Brits handle the war over there. They let the Germans rearm
after the first war then gave in to Hitler at Munich so they should pay the
price of their perfidy. Now we are so weak out here that we can’t hold the

line against the Japanese. I am glad you are aboard. Tommy Hart
recommended you highly, and that’s okay by me son. Welcome aboard.”
Harry had been keeping a sober face even though he felt like
laughing. He thought, MacArthur may be the smartest man in the room
and he certainly is the biggest egomaniac. I’ll bet he’s never ever admitted
that he made a mistake.
The parade of MacArthur’s admirers continued. MacArthur
introduced him to Colonel Willoughby his Chief of Intelligence. Willoughby
was an immigrant German who spoke English with a very strange Teutonic
accent. It was obvious that MacArthur had set him up to flatter Harry.
When dinner was served MacArthur didn’t eat much. He was still
spouting his theories of war and throwing out little nuggets of biblical
advice or a sports metaphor.
“When I was Commandant at the Point, the coach always said
“You’ve got to hit ‘em where they ain’t. War is like foot ball gentlemen.”
Major General Richard K. Sutherland was obviously a favorite of
MacArthur’s. When Colonel Ike Eisenhower was away on vacation in the
United States, without saying, anything MacArthur had replaced him with
Sutherland by making him Chief of Staff. Everyone who knew Sutherland
thought of him as Mac’s yes-sir-man. He was very smart, and arrogant but
not liked. He was a champion kiss-ass.
While dessert was being served General MacArthur got up and
stalked out, followed by Colonel Willoughby. The mood in the room

lightened and a steady buzz of conversation followed.
“Captain Kang, I’ve got to check my desk and see if the General has
sent me any thing to attend to. Why don’t you go back to the conference
room and make any notes you think you want from the black boards. I’ll be
there as soon as I can.”
Harry had studied the charts of the Visayan Island region but had
never sailed there. The waters around Cebu close to the shore were not
very deep, and it was clear that the only place a submarine could operate
required the men on shore to paddle or sail a considerable distance to
contact a sub operating in the area. Cebu was a long skinny island about
250 miles long with a spine of mountains rising in the middle. The
southernmost point looked to be the only place a Sub could get close in.
Before the war started there had been a regular ferry operating between
Cebu and Manila. Harry made a note to ask Sutherland if it was still
functioning and how long it took to make the trip. Time was such an
important factor in intelligence gathering. The older information was the
more inaccurate it was likely to be. He thought of what his father was so
fond of saying ’Time waits for no man.”
Harry and Sutherland finished up just after 2100 hrs. “General how
early can I get breakfast.?”
“You can order it any time. The kitchen is staffed around the clock.”
“Good. I’d like to eat early and be on my way as soon as it’s light
enough to take off.”

“Okay, I’ll call the ready room now and ask the Sergeant on duty
what time you can fly. He’ll alert the pilot that he’s got a flight. I’ll say
goodbye now because I will be tied up in a staff meeting in the morning.”
A Bush Flight
The pilot was a stringy grizzled Aussie in an “out-back” wide
brimmed hat. He was wearing shorts and a greasy shirt. “Hello mate.
Gonna be taking a ride together today. I make it roughly seventeen
hundred miles as the crow flies. Broome’s a tiddly little place. I hope there
isn’t a wind storm with lots of dust. We could miss it completely. My Missus
made some grub and I put some stout liquor aboard for when we get
thirsty. I heard you been hobnobbing with the big boys. How was it?
“The polite answer is great. But just between you and me it was not
very encouraging. I didn’t see any real troops. Just a lot of tired looking
men with plenty of polished brass on their uniforms. I am glad to be getting
back to my ship. Being tied down to a desk is not my idea of fun.”
“That’s why I became a bush pilot. My daddy has a big ranch out
near Ayer’s rock. Herding around a bunch of stringy cows got to me so I
took up flying. Been doing it over 20 years now. Flying saved my hook up
with my wife. I’m away a lot and we both like it that way. Bye the bye, if you
get tired we can drop in on some locals diggers on way. Most of them are
pretty friendly. I always take along a stack of newspapers and give ‘em
away when I set down for a cup of tea.”

A mechanic from the air field came over to stand by while they
cranked the engines. There were two puffs of black smoke when they fired
up but after they each cleared their throat and the rpm’s went up they
burned clean. It was hot outside so the engines warmed up quickly. A few
bouncing moments down the dirt runway and they were air born, up and
away in a northwesterly direction.
“It’s pretty dingy country out in this direction. If you get sleepy take
a nap. I’ll do a wakey wakey just before we set down. give you time to put
the cobwebs away.
Two hours later, Harry woke up, stretched and looked down. “We’re
flying just over the tree tops. What’s going on?”
“Got to scare the livestock away from the landing strip. If they get in
the way we’d be jolly outta luck. The dingos would be making a meal of us.”
After they landed, turned and taxied back to the start of the runway,
Harry saw a painted wooden sign Welcome to No Where Australia.
The pilot looked at his watch. “The men folk will be out in the bush
but the missus will be here. Look, see that cloud of dust. She’s on her way
to give us a lift.”
The driver of the dilapidated old car was a big rawboned woman with
wind blown hair and a deep tan. “Hey Willie, What brings you to this God
forsaken place?”
“Why it’s you me love. I came just in time cuz I know Bert is out in
the bush and we can get it on before he comes in for dinner.”

“Don’t sweet talk me you old bag of bones. Who’s that with you.”
“That’s me new mate. Goes by the name of Captain Kang. I’m taking
him up to Broome. He’s going back to his ship.”
“My name’s Harry. Who might you be?”
“Kathleen Harris. I come from a long line of Irish criminals and
convicts. My man rescued me from being a washerwoman in Canberra. For
some reason he picked me up and got me out of civilization, thank God.”
Willie reached behind his seat and lifted up a stack of newspapers. “I
brought you these. There’s nearly a months worth. May be you can teach
your man to read.”
“I don’t give a damn if he can read. All I care is that he keeps a good
count on the livestock. Come on let’s go to the house so you can tell me
what’s happening in the war.”
“Nice house,” Harry said, “How long have you folk been living here?”
“I came out here when I was twenty two. I don’t know how old I am
now. At least I ain’t telling. The house, well, it was just a one room batch
when I got dragged out here. It’s still not much but it’s all paid for, and if
the Japs invade Australia we could hide out here and eat meat until them
Orientals all dried up and died, or went away. I can’t understand why
anyone would want this place. The only reason most stay is to thumb our
noses at the so called mother country.”
“I stay because I’m too dumb and broke to leave,” Willie said, “My
other girl friend actually likes the place. She say’s Brisbane is the most

beautiful place in the world. Of course she’s never been anyplace else so
that makes her an expert.”
“Enough of this talk. Captain Kang what can I get you to drink?”
“Willie’s other girlfriend made us lunch and he’s got the drinks.”
They talked over lunch and Harry told them as much as he could
about the war situation. When they finished eating Willie said. “Best we get
on our way. It’s a long way to Broome.”
“You boys need any gas for that plane. We’ve got plenty and you’re
welcome to top up. It’s in the shed where we keep our flying machine.”
Willie poured the gas from two 5 gallon jerry cans Harry and
Kathleen gave him. When they were finished. Kathleen gave them both a
hug. “Thanks for coming. God Speed and come back and stay a spell
anytime. You are always welcome.”
When they were back in the air Harry said. “Looks like a pretty hard
and lonely life out here.”
“We grouse a lot about Australia but they is never any great rush to
leave. Young educated folks in Sydney, kids whose folks have a little money,
go off to Europe or the States when they finish school. They might stay a
couple of years but then they come drifting on home. The really rich ones
go to University in England and they almost never come back.”
“What’s Kathleen’s husband like?”
“Tough. Got called up in the first great war. He was shot by the Turks
at Gallipoli. Spent months in hospital. He’s got a bad limp but he rides a

horse like he was born on it. They have a son, Tony, in the army. He’s
fighting some where up the line in Borneo. They haven’t had any word from
him in months. They’d be heartbroken if anything bad happened to him”
“I’ll try to find out something. I’ve got some contacts in the military.
If I find out anything I’ll send you a message through Sutherland.”
The rest of the flight to Broome was uneventful. They had been in the
air nine hours when they touched down. Harry invited Willie to go with
him to Golden Dragon, and stay over night.
“Thanks mate. But I’m tuckered out. Not as young as I once was. And
to be honest there’s a woman in the hotel I want to meet. She’s a good
friend no hanky panky allowed ‘cause she’s a friend of my wife. I’ll get a
good winky winky tonight and fly back early tomorrow.”
The harbor master had his assistant row Harry out to Golden
Dragon. As Harry went up the boarding ladder he felt a great surge of
relief. He was home after a tiring journey. Everyone on board crowded
around to hear the news. Harry gave a short summary of their mission and
ordered them to get underway. The anchor was down in a sandy bottom
and with only a little maneuvering they had it loose and winched it aboard.
Otani-san and Harry conferred over which course to take and they almost
decided to steer up the western side of Java and go back into the South
China Sea through the Straits of Malaca. It seemed the safest way but after
calculating the distances involved they decided to steer a north easterly
course from Broome and sail almost to the west coast of New Guinea then

turn almost 90 degrees to follow a direct line to the Philippines. At 2100
that night Harry sent a coded message to Admiral Hart detailing their
planned route to Manila.
Veronique had taken an extra watch in the early morning, and was
asleep when Harry returned to the ship. When they cleared the port and
headed out to sea he went to his cabin, quickly undressed and crawled
under the covers trying not to wake her up. Veronique stirred and opened
her eyes. “Oh my God. Harry it’s you. How could I be asleep when you came
back? Quick tell me what happened.”
“You are so sleepy if I tell you now you will never remember. Why
don’t we relax for a little while, have dinner, then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Oh Harry, I’ve missed you so much. And of course I worried. I
couldn’t sleep and so I volunteered for extra work at night.”
Harry was so tired himself that he was asleep almost before he put
his head down. Veronique lay against him like a spoon and soon she drifted
off. It was well after 2100 when Otani-san knocked on their cabin door.
“Sorry to wake you up Harry but this message just came in from
Admiral Hart. The news is not good.” He handed over the decoded message
and left.
To: Gee Dog One. From: T.C. Hart
Admiral Glassford has been promoted and given command of all
the US Naval forces in the Southwest Asian area. I am being given a
temporary desk job at the ABDACOM HQ command post in Java.

Admiral Helfrich will command ABDACOM afloat. The defense of Java
is not possible given the conflicting command structure and the
resources available.
The end of my active career is just about over. The people in
Washington are looking to retire me. I am sure the reasons given will
be ill health. I’ve never felt better but I have to admit I am ready in my
own mind to go home.
The assignment you have taken on is a daunting one. I have no
idea who will be put in command of your mission. My guess is that
Admiral Halsey who is under the command of General MacArthur will
be the one chosen. Halsey is frying pretty big fish and will not have the
time to attend on your actions. My advice is to operate under your own
judgment of what will work. You will be the only person who
understands the tactical requirements. If you need my advice at
anytime send a message via radio to me in Washington in care of Naval
Operations and it will be promptly forwarded to me for reply.
Good hunting and good luck.
T.C. Hart
No one who worked as hard and as long as Admiral Hart had, could
continue forever. Harry knew that but he was deeply saddened by the
news. He had worked for Thomas C. Hart for all of his adult life. All he knew
of intelligence gathering had been learned under his command. Now he
would be on his own. At this point he had no idea what had happened to

Paul Li. If Paul was still in Manila he would definitely be in contact with
Colonel Kimura. With any luck Golden Dragon would arrive there in 3
weeks.
After 3 days Golden Dragon was close enough to the New Guinea
coast so they could see the steep spine of the Islands Mountains. Otani-san
ordered a change of course to the northwest and they moved slowly
towards Amboina Island. They had no intelligence about the presence of
Japanese ships in the area so they flew the Japanese flag and kept a sharp
lookout for Allied planes. The next day they threaded the gap between
Amboina and the northern tip of New Guinea. After conferring with Otani,
Harry decided to avoid the Celebes and Borneo by changing course to go
around Moritai then cut back to sail just west of Mindanao and make for
Manila.
“The trouble is there is really no safe route to Manila. We just have to
pick the most direct course and hope we make it without any mishap.”
Harry said.
Otani laid out a chart. “At the southern end of Mindoro Occidental
there is this port, San Jose. The waters offshore are not very deep. Our
chances of running into a big Japanese warship close in are pretty small.
We can probably get fuel in San Jose.”
“Good idea. Then we can hang out a day or so there to let everyone
rest up. Paul Li has a friend there named Tony Parkinson. He’s a brit from
Kenya Africa who came out here, met a nice Filipina, got married, and last

I heard he was running a small resort.”
“We may be able to get some news from him about what’s going on in
Manila.”
San Jose, Mindoro-Occidental
San Jose had a small dock with facilities to sell fuel to the larger local
fishing boats. Golden Dragon was too large to tie up to the quay for any
longer than it took to get fuel so they anchored out while Harry went to try
and find Tony Parkinson.
The Harbor Master, a short heavy set Filipino, told Harry that Tony
Parkinson lived a few miles north of San Jose. Then he offered to give
Harry a ride. The road out of the city was paved at first and then gave way
to gravel. As they bounced along the Harbor Master asked Harry how he
happen to know Tony.
“I only know of Tony through my business partner in Hong Kong. We
are traveling north to Manila and I’m hoping Tony can give me so idea of
the conditions there now that the Japanese are occupying the place. I don’t
want to loose my ship and crew just because I’m not careful.”
“Tony’s wife will know the whole story. She’s a Filipina and has
relatives living up there. How long do you plan to stay here?”
“I won’t know until I have more information.”
“Edita, Tony’s wife, may be able to phone her family and get some
really up to date information but it may take a day or so to get through on
the phone.

Every one in the Philippines is calling friends or family there
because they know the Jap Army is full of such bad people.”
The narrow road made a fork and they turned left towards the
ocean. The White House Safari Lodge was only a short way after they made
the turn. Harry looked out at a white building build in the colonial style he
seen in picture of hunting lodges in Africa.
“This is it. It’s a small resort that Tony and Edita built. It’s clean,
cooled by the sea breeze and Edita is a good cook and knows how to clean
food properly. You can eat with out worrying about getting sick.”
“Thanks for the lift, Senior Larra. I appreciate your giving me a
ride.”
“De Nada, It’s nothing. When you get ready to come back just call the
number on this card and I’ll come out and take you back to your ship.”
The front door was covered with a wrought iron decorative grill
work with an elephant worked into the design. Behind the security barrier
Harry could see trough the fly screen a red tiled central breeze way that
had a similar gate on the other side and he could see open water beyond.
There was a cooling light wind coming off the water. He rang the door bell
and waited. Several minutes latter a Filipina came to the door wiping flour
off her hands.
“Hello, my name is Harry Kang I am here because one of Mr.
Parkinson’s friends in Hong Kong, Paul Li, asked me to stop by and see how
you all are doing in this time of war.”

“Hi, I’m Tony’s wife Edita. Tony is out in his boat fishing. He should
be back soon. Please come in and wait. I know he will want to see you.”
Edita showed Harry into a room pleasantly furnished in Rattan
furniture with soft cushions covered in a cotton material printed with a
pattern made of African large animals.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got to get my bread into the oven
before it dries out or collapses. I won’t be a minute. I’ll bring some iced tea
when I come back.”
Harry went to the window and looked out. There was a white sandy
beach just outside and the sea gently lapped at the shore in the light
breeze. What a great idea, a place like this. If the bottom off shore is sand
we can bring the boat up here and give the crew time to relax before we
leave for Manila Harry thought.
When Edita returned bearing iced tea and three glasses Harry said.
“It’s so nice and quiet here. Do you have many guest in spite of the War?
“Only a few husbands come to stay one or two nights after they have
a fight with their wives. We used to be very busy all year long but the
people from Manila don’t come down since the Ferry boat stopped running
to San Jose.”
“That’s too bad. How are things in Manila. The Harbor Master said
you have family in Manila. Are they okay?”
“I haven’t heard anything in nearly a month. The phone lines are
always busy because so many people are calling trying to see if their loved

ones are okay in the city. If anything was wrong I think my sister would
send me a cable by RCA radio. That is if it’s still up and running. Do you
have the time?
Harry looked at his watch. “It’s just after noon. What time do you
expect Tony?”
He should be here any time now. He leaves before the sun comes up
every morning, and he’s so hungry he’s always back around lunch time.
Let’s go down to the beach and look for the boat.”
Harry picked up his pack and took out a pair of binoculars. “I always
travel with these so I can look out for Japanese patrols. Do you often see
Japanese ships out here.”
“No, not often. Since the Ferry stopped running to San Jose most of
the Japanese ships go inside on the ferry route to Cebu City. It’s the second
largest city in the Philippines and there is a port there.”
They both took off their shoes and walked out to the water in their
bare feet. “If you look over in that direction you may see Tony’s boat. It’s
called Riva.”
Harry scanned the horizon and spotted many native fishing boats.
What does Riva look like? Is it a Banca?”
Yes, but it’s much bigger than the other boats. You can’t miss it.”
“Why don’t you take the binoculars. Maybe you can spot it”
“He could have gone to the fuel dock in San Jose,” Edita said
swinging around to the south.

“Yes, there is Riva and he’s right along side a big ship. Here take a
look.”
Harry couldn’t believe his eyes. There was Golden Dragon coming
towards him along with the man he’d come to find. “Yes, and he’s found my
ship and he’s bringing Golden Dragon here,” Harry laughed, “I could have
stayed in San Jose and Tony would have found me by accident.”
When Riva and Golden Dragon were both safely anchored out in
deeper water, Tony rowed Veronique and Skip Moran to shore. Harry
helped pull the rowboat up on the beach while Veronique and Edita went
into the house.
“Tony Parkinson at your service Sir. You must be Captain Kang.”
“One and the same,” Harry said, “Harry is my first name. How did
you ever meet up with Golden Dragon?”
“Tony rowed over and asked permission to come aboard,” Skip said,
“The rest was easy. We just followed him home. Harry what shall we do
with the crew?”
“Post four men as a guard. Then have them come in for a walk along
the beach. Tell Otani-san I’ll be back aboard just as soon as I have a chance
to talk with Tony then he should come ashore and meet Tony’s wife Edita.”
“Harry old chap have you had lunch yet?”
“No, I haven’t been here long. You must be hungry. Edita said you left
before the Sun came up.”

“Yes, I’m so hungry I could eat a wild boar all by myself. Let’s go in
and have a beer. By the way, Paul sent a cable from Manila and said you
might be stopping by.”
“When?”
Tony pulled a yellow paper from his shirt pocket and handed to
Harry. “Pretty serendipitous don’t you think. The harbormaster handed
this to me when I went to the fuel dock. I saw the big Junk sitting just off
shore and I rowed over there to find out if it was your ship.”
“I’ll be damned. He must have known we would be headed your way.”
“Keep it and read it later. It’s pretty much self-explanatory. If you
want to send him a cable later I can drive it in to the cable office in San
Jose this afternoon.”
Veronique and Edita were in the Kitchen when they walked in.
Veronique was poised over a breadboard with a knife in her hand cutting
thick slices of freshly baked bread. “Oh Harry, this is so exciting. Imagine
me in a kitchen helping Edita make sandwiches. I wish this war would go
away and I could just stay home with you and cook for us.”
“Now you men go away and let us make lunch,” Edita said, “It will be
ready in a few minutes.”
Harry and Tony settled down with a cold beer. “So Tony you’re a
British national?”
“No, technically I’m a Kenyan citizen. I was born in Nairobe, studied
biology in South Africa and then became a big animal veterinarian and

game warden at Serengeti National Park. I loved the work but I was pretty
lonely out in the bush. On my annual leave I came to the Philippines, met
Edita in Manila, got married and we decided to set up our camp here.
Haven’t regretted a minute of it. How about you?”
“My parents were both Missionaries in China. Father was Chinese.
My mother was an American, the daughter of Baptist Missionary parents.
My Father and Mother met in China and I was born there. Then my
parents immigrated to Boston and I grew up and was educated in the
United States. My father insisted that I join the Navy and somehow he
managed to get me a place at the Naval Academy. And now you are looking
a man who’s spent his whole working life on the China Coast.”
“How did you and Paul get together?”
“Long story. Essentially it’s been like this. Master Mariner meets
ship owner. Ship owner needs a Captain. In my case Paul had the ship. I
had the Master Mariners license. I skippered Golden Dragon through some
pretty troubled waters with out getting her sunk. Then one day Paul gave
me half ownership of her and we’ve been business partners ever since.”
What about your officers and crew?”
“The crew’s Chinese. Otani-san is a Japanese from Hawaii, and Skip
Moran’s an Irishman. At least that’s what his passport says. We are a
polyglot bunch.”
“How about Veronique?”

“Half French, half Vietnamese. I met her in Indo-china just before
the. war started in the Pacific..”
“Sounds pretty romantic. She’s a very lovely lady.”
“Yes, and the mystery is why she saw anything in a crusty old salt
like me.”
Veronique came through the door with a tray piled high with
sandwiches. “He always says that Tony but he’s not so crusty underneath
and when you wash him off and polish him up he looks pretty darned good.
Anyway he swept me off my feet in a weak moment. Ou la la, he’s so
romantic. Even my father approves of him.”
“Edita brought iced tea and more beer. “When Tony and I first met he
seemed insufferably English. Then he did his Great White Hunter thing and
my father was impressed. But one night Tony told me he didn’t believe in
shooting animals and his whole image changed in my eyes. You know we
have this small native buffalo here in the Philippines. It’s called the
Tamaraw, and it doesn’t exist anywhere else. Tony is chairman of the wild
life group that’s trying to keep it from being hunted to extinction.”
“That’s enough of this kind of talk. Let’s eat,” Tony said.
When lunch was over Veronique went to the kitchen with Edita to
help her clean up. Tony excused himself on his way to a shower outside.
Harry settled down to read Paul Li’s cable.
HARRY, A MUTUAL FRIEND OF OURS SENT ME A MESSAGE
SAYING YOU MIIGHT TRY TO STOP BY MANILA TO SEE ME. I AM SORRY

BUT I AM TWO BUSY TO SEE YOU NOW. KIMURA-SAN HAS ASKED US TO
ENTERTAIN JAPANESE OFFICER HERE AT THE GARDEN PALMS HOTEL
ON AN EXCLUSIVE BASIS. WE HAVE A LUCKY HORSESHOE TACKED UP
OVER THE DOOR FOR GOOD JOSS.
KIMURA-SAN HAS ASKED YOU TO SEND HIM INFORMATION TO
HIM VIA US HERE AT THE HOTEL. THE STAFF ALL MISSES YOU AND
WISHES YOU GOOD LUCK
FAIR WINDS
BEST REGARDS
PAUL
The friend must refer to Admiral Hart Harry thought. Horseshoe
must mean that everyone at the Garden Palms is collecting intelligence
that is sent out to the guerilla’s operating in the countryside for
transmission to MacArthur’s command in Australia. Colonel Kimura is one
very clever individual. So Kimura-san wants to hear from me about
anything that affects his “funny business” in the Philippines. He must know
that country can’t win the war so he’s covering his tracks. He will go into
hiding the minute the course of the war goes badly for Japan.
Harry and Veronique went back to Golden Dragon to relieve Otani-
san and Skip so they could go to shore. As soon as they were on board
Harry met with his shipmates and explained the situation.
“I don’t know about you but I’ve been dreading the thought of going
into Manila. Paul’s message takes us off the hook but we still have to go to

Cebu. My plan is to leave tomorrow morning because I am going to have
Tony Parkinson send a cable to Paul Li in Manila. I need a little time to
write it. When it’s finished Otani-san and Skip can take it to Tony. He can
send it to Manila later this afternoon as soon as he gets to town.
DEAR PAUL,
HARRY NILES HERE, STOPPED BY TO SAY HELLO. SORRY
THAT I CAN’T STOP TO SEE YOU BUT WE SEND OUR BEST REGARDS
TO YOU AND KIMURA-SAN. WILL RESEARCH THINGS FOR HIM
AND WILL FORWARD WHAT EVER WE FIND.
BEST REGARDS. H.N.
Cebu Bound
The following morning Golden Dragon weighed anchor at 3 AM.
There was a full moon and Harry used it to navigate well past San Jose
before first light at dawn.
“Tony and Edita are very nice people. So friendly and helpful,”
Veronique said, “I liked Edita the minute I laid my eyes on her, Harry.”
“Do you like how they live, sweetheart.”
It must be nice. When the war is over maybe we can find a place on
the sea like that. You can have a boat to sail-- short trips of course. And, I
can sail with you, just the two of us. Will we have enough money to do
that?”
I’m pretty sure we will. We could even keep Golden Dragon and build
a nursery down below and have a proper living room right next to it.”

“What a wonderful idea Harry. I’m all for it. We can even have a
stateroom for Francou to come home to when he’s not flying around the
world.”
“Speak of the devil behind his back,” Francou said from the shadows,
“Actually I have to ask you to consider this idea. I would like to be using my
skill as a pilot to fly in this war. Can you think of any way I can do this?”
Harry looked at Veronique with a very serious face. “Do I hear a
mutinous remark from a certain 2nd Engineer of this ship?”
“Yes Captain I heard it also. This sounds like an excuse to have a
flogging. Isn’t that what you do to mutineers.”
They were both trying to keep straight faces. Then they both giggled
and grabbed Francou and hugged him.
“I will send a message to General Southerland General MacArthur’s
Chief of Staff. I’ll tell him we’ve picked up Free French pilot who’s looking
to get in this war in an airplane. Let’s see what kind of an answer we get
back. If this fails I can send a message to Admiral Hart in the United States.
He may be able to figure out a way you can join General de Gaulle in
England and fly for France.
“Wonderful Captain Harry. How would I get out of here?”
“Probably on a Submarine to some port in Australia. Which gives me
a thought. The Australian Air Force may even need a good pilot.”

Cebu
Harry sent MacArthur’s Command a coded message for General
Sutherland. He explained the situation in Manila, gave his position and
estimated time of arrival off Cebu. He also asked for instructions on how to
meet the guerilla command on the island. In a third part of the message he
relayed Francou’s information and asked about the possibility of flying for
the Southwest Pacific Area Air Force or the Australian Air Force. Later
that night Harry received Colonel Sutherland’s reply:

CAPTAIN KANG STOP GEE DOG ONE
REQUEST YOU MEET WITH SUB AT NIGHT AT A POSITION
SELECTED BY YOU IN DEEP WATER OFF CEBU STOP
HOLD THAT POSITION FOR THREE HOURS AFTER MIDNIGHT ON
DAY AND DATE SUB ARRIVAL TIME CEBU AREA STOP
SUB COMMANDER WILL TAKE OFF YOUR PILOT PASSENGER STOP
HE WILL SUPPLY YOU WITH ORDERS FROM THIS COMMAND AS
FOLLOWS STOP
CONTACT METHOD STOP TIME AND PLACE STOP
GENERAL TACTICAL OPERATING PROCEDURE STOP
SUPPLY REQUIREMENT STOP AMMUNITION STOP FUEL STOP
FOOD STOP SOS PROCEDURES STOP
THIS COMMAND NEEDS PILOTS FOR GROUND BASED SINGLE
ENGINE LIGHT PLANE SPOTTER DUTY OVER THE PHILIPPINES
STOP
R. K SUTHERLAND FOR GENERAL MACARTHUR STOP
COMMANDER SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA
Harry and Veronique discussed how they would tell Francou about
the message from General MacArthur. They decided to have a party on

deck with all the crew, officers and tell him during the party. The cook was
told to prepare a nice meal and drinks for the party. The only real question
was when he could they have it.
Golden Dragon was cruising slowly south towards Cebu. Their
estimated time of arrival was during the early morning hours two days
away. Captain Kang and Otani-san spent several hours studying the charts
of the area around Cebu City. The difficulty was similar to the problems
presented by the waters off Balikpapan. There were fringing reefs and
offshore undersea mounts thrown up by the volcanoes millions of years
before. They weren’t worried about running aground in Golden Dragon but
the submarine that would come to pick up Francou was another matter.
Finally they chose the deep waters off the southern end of Cebu. The next
question concerned timing. Otani-san checked the nautical almanac to see
what the phase of the moon when the transfer could be made in relative
darkness. The constantly nagging question was always where would the
Japanese Navy patrol boats be at any given time. Finally they decided on a
time just after midnight.
Harry sat down to write a coded message to General Sutherland. He
suggested that the submarine meet them six days later and gave the
position coordinates so that the submarine commander could find Golden
Dragon.
Two days later they rounded the northern end of Cebu and headed
down the length of the island well offshore. Harry planned to anchor just

off Dumaguete, a city on the south east coast of Negros Occidental unless
they found a more suitable location. By noon they were sailing close to the
island of Bohol when they spotted a natural harbor with no evidence of any
Japanese presence. They explored possible anchorages and found a sandy
bottom close to a low cliff. By 2:30 in the afternoon they were safely
anchored and Harry gave the cook an order to set up a table for lunch.
When lunch was served everyone assembled and admired the delicious
looking Chinese stir-fry. When everyone had finished eating Harry called
Francou to stand up and Harry made a short speech about his new
assignment. Francou was stunned but smiling. When Harry had finished
Skip got up and praised the work Francou had been doing in the engine
room.
“He’s the best 2nd Engineer I have ever worked with and I’m sure
he’s going to be a big success flying for the Air Force, and I want him to
know that he’s welcome back on Golden Dragon any time he gets tired of
flying around.”
Veronique gave Francou a big hug and was crying. It was a very
moving moment for everyone and there was a long silence before they all
started clapping.
Otani-san was spending all of his spare time listening on the
Japanese military shortwave radio channels for broadcast in the clear. The
Japanese were now in control of all the major islands in the Philippines,
consequently they felt that they could talk freely between units of the Air

Force and on the ground. Harry had guessed that the Japanese command
post would be set up in one of the Hotels in Cebu City. This was confirmed in
that night at 6 PM by a radio broadcast from Colonel Onishi Seito reporting
on the day’s activities by the forces under his command on Cebu Island.
The commander reported that there had been only a light guerrilla action
that day. The rest of his message concerned a shipment of supplies that
was a week overdue. He said that he was concerned because his
ammunition was running low and if there were serious guerrilla action he
would not have enough small arms ammunition.
There was no evidence of any Japanese naval vessels or airplanes in
the immediate area. Golden Dragon was still flying a Japanese flag from
her masthead. Harry considered it unlikely that they would be spotted
during the day so he told the crew they could go fishing and swimming with
within a 1/2 mile of the ship. The crew knew enough about poisonous sea
snakes to keep a sharp lookout for them. Some of the crew took a small
boat and fishing gear out into deeper water and before long they had
several nice skipjack tuna fish for the next days breakfast.
Veronique and Harry went for a swim and then retired to their cabin.
They were both tired and relieved at the same time because they had
stayed awake many hours during the voyage south. They laid down and
started to talk.
“Sweetheart I don’t understand how this is all going to work.”
“We won’t know anything about that until the submarine gets here

and delivers our orders,” Harry said, “My guess is that we will be given a
password to identify ourselves when we go ashore to meet the guerrillas.
They may not tell us who we are supposed to meet. It may be a Filipino or
an American commander. I know that they have very small transmitters
with a limited range so they can communicate with islands that are not too
far away. I’m sure it will all work out.”
“Harry, you don’t seem to be the least bit worried about the future.”
“That’s because I figured out a long time ago that a worrying about
the future is not the same as planning for the future. Planning is the only
constructive thing to do and my plan is to look at the orders they send us
and then build a plan around them. Anything else is just a waste of time.
The only thing we can do sweetheart is relax and recover our energy so
that when the orders to come will be ready to move on them.”
Harry’s calm and deliberate nature is always a guide for me
Veronique thought. It’s funny, worrying is such a terrible habit and difficult
not to do. I’ve got to train myself up so that I am more like Harry. He must
think I am just a silly girl. But she knew better. She knew that Harry was
not lacking in confidence where she was concerned. They’d been through a
lot in the short time they had been together. Every day I feel more and
more confident. I know that God is watching over me. And I pray for God’s
protection over this ship and everyone on it.
Fremantle Australia
The skipper of the Submarine Swordfish was new to the boat. His

Executive Officer Lieutenant Commander Leonard had sailed the vessel out
from the Mare Island naval base as soon as her sea trials were completed.
The trip had been uneventful but shortly after leaving San Francisco
headed for Hawaii they had developed a strange whine in the propulsion
system. It was there on the surface but it was much louder when they were
submerged. They radioed Pearl Harbor and asked if they could stop for
repairs while they were refueling. Permission granted, they moved slowly
through the entrance to the harbor and tied up next to the repair shop.
Throughout the night the repair crew examined the two drive shafts with
micrometers and other measuring tools. Finally the Chief Engineer of the
repair yard authorized the Dock Captain to put the ship into dry dock so
they could locate the problem.
Just before he started up the ladder to the deck he said, “I don’t
think it can be very serious because everything is lined up. There may be
something wrong inside the propeller bearings but it won’t take long this
morning before we know. We should have you back in the water in a couple
of hours.”
“Well, we didn’t have much time to get her sea trials done. Usually we
are supposed to get 6 weeks but we finished in a month. The Navy
Department is in a big hurry to get these new boats out there on patrol.
We’re meeting with the new skipper in Fremantle and I hate to keep him
waiting.”
“We’ll do our best to get you on your way Skipper. Here have a cigar.”

The Swordfish was back in the water shortly after noon. Her port
side prop bearing had been scored and distorted slightly, apparently during
the hasty sea trials. By 1 o’clock the problem fixed, they were underway
again on the long journey to Fremantle.
Within an hour of the time they reached Australia the new skipper
was piped aboard, and after a brief speech to the crew assembled on deck
they headed out to the Philippines. The officers and crew of the Swordfish
carried two sets of orders, their own, and orders for Captain Harry Kang
and the Golden Dragon.

Chapter 40
The Visayan Islands & the Meeting at Sea
There was no moon on the night Harry and Otani-san had selected.
The course they charted was a square, one mile on a side. Golden Dragon’s
signal lamp had blinders on to narrow the beam so it wouldn’t attract the
attention of any ship or plane that wasn’t directly in front of the bow.
Harry and Skip Moran had decided that the port diesel engine would run
but not be in gear so the big propeller would act as a drag to slow the ship
to a crawl. They were on station on time and they waited.
The Swordfish had traveled on the surface at night and ran
submerged during daylight hours. It was a Fleet Class submarine with a top
speed of 20 nautical miles an hour, and designed to keep up with a main
battle fleet. During the day submerged it could make between 6 and 8
knots. The navigator had been shooting sights for several hours when he
called down to the Skipper.
“We are dead on the meeting site Sir. I give us 20 minutes before we
can see the Golden Dragon.”
“Good navigating Lieutenant. I’ll be joining you momentarily. Exec
take the con please.”
The Skipper of the Swordfish was the first to see Harry’s signal lamp.
“There she is. I make her 3 points off our starboard bow. Con we’ll
steer from up here.”

By careful maneuvering the two vessels were joined in a dead flat
sea. Harry instructed his crew to throw mooring lines to the much larger
submarine, and the sub’s crew threw bumpers over board so the ships
would not crash into each other. Once they were tied off the Sub’s crew
lifted a gangplank in place and Harry walked across and requested
permission to board.
“Permission granted, Sir.” A boatswain’s mate blew a soft whistle
and said, “Welcome Aboard Captain.”
Then came the great surprise. As Harry walked towards the conning
tower a man stepped out of the shadows and put out his hand. “Captain Ed
Cole at your service Captain Kang. Harry you old sea dog what the hell are
we doing here. We should both be back in San Diego sipping whiskey at the
Hotel Coronado Bar”
“All I want to know is how did the Navy ever give you command of
this big new submarine, Ed. Those guys in Naval Operations must think you
know something about Subs.”
I wish I knew more about this one, Harry. I just took command in
Australia a week ago. Fortunately my executive officer commissioned this
ship and he knows more about it than I will ever know.”
“What happened to your old command?”
The Navy decided to retire it before it sank on it own accord. She was
leaking like hell when we made it to Australia. It was just a damned ship
but I miss her. Let’s go below and have a drink in my cabin.”

“Before we do that would you mind sending your boatswain mate
over to Golden Dragon and have him tell Otani-san to have everyone keep a
sharp lookout for any danger.”
Once Harry and Ed were in Ed’s cabin. Harry asked. “How do you
think the war is going. Is there any hope we can turn this thing around?”
“Goddamn Harry you always were the guy in class who asked the
toughest questions. Here’s a quick rundown. The battle at Midway pretty
much decided the future course of the war. It’s not going to be quick but I’m
sure we’ll wear ‘em down. The Japanese lost four of their best carriers at
Midway and Admiral Yamamoto was forced to turn tail and head back to
Japan. I think if we weren’t fighting a war on two fronts it would be all over
in six months out here. As it is MacArthur is fighting a tough up hill fight
here in the Southwest Pacific. President Roosevelt had a meeting in Hawaii
with General MacArthur and Admiral Nimitz who argued for an invasion of
Formosa so our new B-29’s can plaster Tokyo. Apparently MacArthur
argued that we should liberate the Philippines first in order to keep faith
with the Filipinos. After a day of presentations Roosevelt said he wanted to
sleep on it and the next morning he gave the go ahead for a two-pronged
attack on Japan. Nimitz is going to island hop to Tokyo and MacArthur will
slog his way to Manila. I think General Marshall must have talked to the
President that night and suggested that it might be a good idea to tie up
Japanese Divisions and ships down here and let Nimitz use all his renewed
carrier strength up north. Either way you look at things it seems like a

good way to settle the differences. I heard that General Eisenhower
thought the Nimitz plan was the best one but then Ike doesn’t like
MacArthur. Here have some Scotch. I brought it all the way from Pearl
Harbor just for you.”
“Isn’t drinking on a naval vessel verboten, Ed.”
Ed Cole laughed, “Yes, but the Captain’s cabin is his own private
preserve.”
The two friends talked for an hour. Ed Cole told Harry that Elsie had
delivered a bouncing baby boy. And that he had already sent the boy’s
name in for a future spot in the Naval Academy.
“I got lucky Ed, I found the girl of my dreams in Indo-China. She’s the
one. I’ve already decided to tie the knot as soon as this damn war is over.”

Chapter 41
Cebu: A Bolt of Lightning
The Imperial Headquarters Command had promised Hirohito that
they would take back Guadalcanal and Henderson Field. In repeated
attempts the US Marines and GI’s fought off vicious attacks by the
Japanese Army. The naval blockade by the Americans had left an
exhausted army with out medical supplies or food. Ammunition was
running low and it became apparent that the battle had been lost. General
Hyakutake Seikichi and his men hunkered down in hastily dug foxholes
and waited to sacrifice themselves in the final US assault.
The High Command, having made a promise not to fail to retake the
island, could not bear to admit defeat at Guadalcanal. Aware that a
starving, disease ridden, and exhausted enemy lay before them the
American commanders decided to wait. Several weeks went by and as the
situation grew worse for the Japanese. The Americans repaired Henderson
field and moved C-47’s, B-17’s and fighter planes in. Henderson field was to
be a staging area for a leap forward towards the Philippines.
In Tokyo a savage debate raged between the Army General Officers
and the Imperial High Command. Several plots were hatched to assassinate
General Togo. They were aborted at the last minute.
Then Admiral Shimada ordered a Special Report. It was based on
top-secret files on the mistakes made in the war. A brilliant researcher
Rear Admiral Takagi Sokichi was assigned the job. After an intensive

investigation of the situation, his analysis of the air and shipping losses
sustained in the Pacific led him to the inevitable conclusion that Japan
could not win the war. He was so appalled by the collapse he saw that the
only hope for Japan was to seek some kind of mediated peace. Takagi
feared that if he gave the report to Shimada that his own life would be
endangered so the report was shelved. Takagi began meeting in secret with
other officers he trusted. As they discussed the situation it became
apparent that General Tojo would have to go.
Tojo knew that the situation was desperate and had already decided
to try to reach a negotiate peace. As he saw it any leak of the plans to
surrender would cause the complete collapse of the Japanese army and
navy morale. In the meantime Japan’s losses in the Pacific mounted.
Merchant shipping, the supply line on which the Japanese military
depended was rapidly being destroyed but the new and vastly improved
Submarines the US Navy was deploying in the Pacific. Younger and more
aggressive commanders with improved torpedoes and revised tactics were
taking a tremendous toll. Then, already successful, some of the fleet
submarines were recalled for training. Taking a note from German
submarine options the US Navy was developing the “Wolf Pack.” As soon as
the American “Wolf Packs” were deployed the Japanese shipping destroyed
reached unheard of proportions. Japanese efforts to begin serious attempts
at convoying merchant ships were weak.

They made an effort to improve but in the end there was just too
little too late so their shipping losses continued.
Finally Hirohito issued a command for the Japanese forces on
Guadalcanal to be withdrawn. In a series of daring sorties at night
Japanese destroyers managed to carry several thousand survivors off the
island and all hope of regaining Henderson Field was abandoned.
After Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku’s fatal crash on Buin Island
Admiral Koga Mineichi had been elevated to the Command of the Combined
Fleet. His Chief of Staff was Admiral Fukudome Shigeru. Koga was a logical
and efficient officer lacking the risk taking nature of his predecessor. Koga
and Fukudome were of the same mind: The final battle between the
American Fleet and the Japanese Combined fleet would take place off the
Philippines. Both men were saddled with the idea of a “Final Battle” like
Admiral Togo’s epic victory at Tsushima wherein all issues would be
settled at a single stroke. Admiral Koga began systematically gathering his
forces for a fight that he envisioned as taking place in the waters close to
Luzon.
“Shigeru we may not have much chance of beating the Americans
and we may well loose this war, but I think we should make our stand in
the Philippines. I am issuing this battle plan that we’ve been working on
and calling it Operation Z since I want everyone to know how important it
is.”

“Do you want me to issue the orders to move Musashi into place.
Obviously we will need to have a battleship in the van of our fleet?”
“Yes, we need to send orders for the ships from the fleet to converge.
Then you and I should transfer our flag and fly to the Philippines and make
our headquarters there. We’ll go in two sea-planes. One for you, and a
second for me, in case anything should happen to one of us.”
The two men worked hard over the following days getting the plan
fully worked out and the orders drafted. Finally, exhausted and wrung out
they retired to Koga’s cabin on the Musashi to drink sake and relax.
“I consider that Yamamoto-san died at exactly the right time,”
Fukudome said, “We are doomed to go out when our country’s fate is going
down.”
“In any case let’s die together if Plan Z fails. There won’t be any
reason to live on,” Koga said, “Yamamoto was right when he said that we
might be able to fight the United States for eighteen months before loosing.
He foresaw all the losses of shipping, and our inability to replace men and
ships that has come to pass.”
At nine o’clock they boarded two four-engine Kawanishi flying boats
and headed due west for Mindanao. Without realizing it they were flying
into a tropical storm with heavy rain and high winds. The two planes were
separated and some where over the ocean Admiral Koga’s plane went
down.

Fukudome’s plane banked to the right and headed on a course for
Manila. Strong headwinds slowed their progress and by two o’clock in the
morning the Kawanishi began to run out of fuel.
“Sir, we are going to run out of fuel momentarily. So, we all need to
prepare for an emergency landing,” the pilot said, “Off to the left there you
can see what I think is Cebu. There’s an army base in Cebu City. We may
have a chance of landing close to the city and be rescued.” As the plane
turned towards the island the moon suddenly disappeared and a heavy
blast of air lifted one wing and the plane was severely buffeted. In the dark
the pilot became disoriented because he could no longer see the ocean
below and he lost control. Fukudome staggered forward as the plane nosed
down. He was gripping his brief case containing the plans for Operation Z
and it’s cipher codes. Fukudome, an experience flyer, grabbed the control
yoke and yanked back to try and recover from the plane’s steep dive. But,
he was off balance and he overcorrected. The plane stalled, and dropped in
a cartwheel down into the sea.
Long afterward, Fukudome remembered thinking: This is the end
and I accept it. The war is lost anyway. But it was not the end. Fukudome
surfaced still clinging to his brief case. The wreckage of the plane exploded
and a fierce fire erupted. He and ten others were free of the plane but he
was weighed down by his briefcase and couldn’t float. He grabbed a seat
cushion and started paddling toward the shoreline of Cebu. Hour after hour
he struggled toward the shore. By dawn he was alone. As he looked

towards the shore he could see a large group of buildings with a sign
written down the smoke stake of a cement plant: Asano Cement.
A group of Filipinos, guerrillas and fishermen, were hiding in small
thatched huts in Balud, a barrio south of Cebu city. They had seen the flash
and fire earlier and now that it was daylight they decided to investigate. As
they paddled out they saw a group of survivors swimming towards shore.
They managed to pull eight of the swimmers out of the water. But two of
them escaped and headed to Cebu City and the Japanese Army
Headquarters.
An hour later, almost at the limit of his endurance, Fukudome saw
native canoes headed toward him. Were they simple fisherman or
guerrillas? Just as he was being pulled into the leading canoe he
deliberately dropped his briefcase. One of the fishermen saw the sinking
case and retrieved it.
The fisherman picked Fukudome out of the water. They took
Fukudome and eight of the crew to Captain Marcelino Erediano chief of a
guerrilla unit operating near Cebu City. Fukudome told Erediano that they
were low ranking staff officers of little knowledge or importance on an
inspection tour of the area. Erediano spoke Japanese having spent a year
at Tokyo Imperial University before the start of the war. He was suspicious
because he noticed that the other Japanese in the group treated Fukudome
with great respect. In spite of his plain brown uniform Erediano suspected
that Fukudome was a high-ranking officer. In addition the contents of his

briefcase were marked Top Secret. In the dead of night a messenger was
sent to Guerrilla headquarters high in the mountains.
An American who headed all the guerrilla bands on Cebu
immediately radioed the details of the Erediano’s message to MacArthur’s
headquarters on a tiny ATR4A transceiver with limited power. Colonel
Wendell Fertig head of the guerrillas on Mindanao intercepted the message
and relayed the contents to Australia.
Admiral Halsey immediately tried to establish radio contact with the
Swordfish’s commander who was then on patrol headed for the South
China Sea. Traveling on the surface at night and submerged during the day
it had taken nearly two weeks to get to his assigned position since he had
picked up Francou and delivered orders to Golden Dragon. It was a long
way back and no one on board was very happy with the change of orders.
Sinking ships made careers in the submarine service not by delivering
supplies and picking up Japanese and carrying them back to Australia.
Fukudome was badly injured. His leg had been broken in the crash
and he had to be carried on a litter into the mountains. The going was slow
because they could only move at night. Unfortunately, the two escapees
had alerted Colonel Onishi and he ordered a search by plane for the
Guerrilla forces moving Fukudome into the mountains. It took over a week
to get to Tupas deep in the mountains where the Guerrilla headquarters
had been located. The guerrillas had moved even deeper into the
mountains. Japanese troops raided Tupas and the guerrilla band’s

situation was dire. The Japanese out numbered them and Colonel Onishi
threatened reprisals by burning down villages and killing civilians if the
prisoners were not released. Another message went out to MacArthur:
WE CAN DELIVER CONTENTS OF BRIEFCASE TO NEGROS FOR
PICK UP BY A SUBMARINE. PRESSURE BY THE JAPS ON MY
FORCES AND THREATS OF REPRISALS ON VILLAGES AND
CIVILIANS MAKES IT NECESSARY TO RELEASE OUR PRISONERS.
Under Erediano’s persistent questioning, Fukudome, not wanting to
use his own name, told Erediano that he was Admiral Koga and could speak
a little English. Then a civilian was sent to Colonel Onishi with a note
written by Fukudome and signed “Admiral Koga” telling Onishi that the
guerrillas would deliver the prisoners to Cebu City if Onishi would agree to
suspend any order threatening reprisals. Onishi quickly agreed and sent
back a note under his own signature. Fukudome was loaded on a litter
again and Lieutenant Pedro Villareal set off without arms to deliver “Koga”
and the other prisoners.
In the meantime General MacArthur, enraged by the radio message
sent back his reply: ENEMY PRISONERS MUST BE HELD AT ALL
COSTS. It was a completely unacceptable order. The cost was far higher
than the value of keeping any prisoners.
At Bohol, Harry kept radioing the password trying to reach the
guerrillas on Cebu but because they were so harassed, and moving quickly.
The small band in the mountains failed to hear the signal from Golden

Dragon. With their prisoners delivered to Colonel Onishi there was a small
respite and finally the password was heard and they responded by saying
that they could meet the Golden Dragon at night in the sea off Balud.
Otani-san checked the nautical almanac again. “Harry, if we don’t do
this in the next two nights the moon will probably be too bright for us to
chance a meeting.”
“Okay, let’s send a message and tell them we’ll be off Balud
tomorrow night between midnight and one in the morning. We’ll flash a
double green light off our bow every twenty minutes. They should be able
to find us.”
“What do you think they will be like? What will they need?”
“They probably want to set up a system of supply for ammo, food,
and medical stuff. I can’t imagine what they’d do with money but maybe
some gold coins would be useful to pay folks and to bribe someone for
information.”
A light rain began falling. There was little wind and Golden Dragon,
with her anchors down for and aft, rode comfortably in the gentle swells
coming off shore. It rained all day and continued intermittently during the
night. By dawn the next day the rain had stopped and by mid-morning the
humidity was very high. Veronique put up a small fan over the porthole
and they stayed in the cabin with no clothes on most of the day trying to
stay cool. Harry put a towel on the bunk and they made love gently with
water beading on their bodies.

“I think when this war is over we should go to a place like British
Columbia where it’s a lot cooler,” Harry said “I’ve never been there but
there is plenty water in the inland passage there and It’s nice and cool
since it’s in a much higher latitude.”
“It sounds wonderful Harry. So far I’ve lived all of my life in a very
warm climate and I’m ready to try some cooler place.”
At ten o’clock that night they weighed anchor, set a stabilizing sail on
the aft mast and motored towards Cebu. They were a mile off the shore at
Balud when they stopped and lowered an anchor off the stern. It hit bottom
at 333 fathoms and they swung with the bow towards shore. The lookout
on the bow was responsible for the signal. They waited and the tension
slowly began to rise. Meetings as sea in the daylight or bad weather were
hard enough to bring off but night made things much more difficult.
The Filipino fisherman often fished at night with a light hung off the
side of their canoes. They knew the waters off Balud so well they could tell
from the swells when they were in water where fish were likely to be found.
They launched five canoes and paddled slowly and silently out from shore.
Each canoe had an automobile battery wired to a light bulb. In the lead
canoe young woman sat in the middle of the canoe with rope tied to a
package and then around her waist. The package was lashed to four pieces
of bamboo with closed ends. It was the sealed metal container from inside
Fukudome’s briefcase. They saw the two green lights on Golden Dragon
and converged on the ship. A boarding ladder was lowered and the case

was handed up and the young woman followed.
“Hello, thanks for coming. My name is Rita. My husband, James
Casey is the Commander of all the Guerrillas on Cebu. He asked me to tell
you about this package. It contains the contents of a brief case we picked
up when a Japanese plane fell out of the sky, broke up and burned when
the typhoon came through. There are some paper’s inside are marked TOP
SECRET. We also found what appear to be code-books. They are all in
Japanese. One of our men studied in Japan before the war. He said the
papers were marked Plan Z. He didn’t have time to read them but they
must be important because they were being carried by a Japanese
Admiral.”
“What are we supposed to do with this,” Harry asked, “It sounds
important enough to try and send it to General MacArthur’s
headquarters.”
“My husband has been in contact with Fremantle Australia and they
want the package delivered by submarine as soon as possible.”
“They must be sending one here. Did they say when it would get
here?” Harry asked, “Our orders were delivered to us by a submarine
named Swordfish but they were going on patrol to try and sink Japanese
ships after we met them off Negros.”
“We have been busy moving camp because the Japanese army has
been chasing us since the plane went down and two of the planes crew
escaped and went to see the Japanese officer responsible for Cebu. So the

only thing my husband knows is that it’s probably going to be a pickup spot
on the coast at Negros. Oh, before I forget here is a list of supplies and
ammunition we need, along with a message from my husband to Captain
Kang.”
Harry handed the supply list to Otani-san, opened the note and
began to read.
‘Harry, Never in a million years would I expect to hear from you
here in Cebu. It’s been a long time since we met in Hong Kong. I met my
wife Rita here on Cebu when I came down here to prospect for gold. We
have one son now and we’ve been hiding out and living pretty much off the
land after the Japs took over the island. The local leaders convinced me
that I should lead the guerrillas here on the island and MacArthur made
me a Colonel because he said I needed rank to lead. Anyway we’ve had a
pretty rough time of it since the Jap plane crashed. Hope to see you in the
near future. Best regards, Jim Casey’
Harry was surprised and his mind was racing. He needed to get a
message off to Australia for the supplies and ask for a submarine to pick up
the package. If the Japanese commander on Cebu saw the Golden Dragon
off shore and connected them to the guerrillas on Cebu they would be
under attack by Japanese planes.
“Under different conditions I’d like to stay and talk with you Mrs.
Casey but I should hurry on out of here and get a message to General
MacArthur’s staff about the contents of this package. I’m sure it will yield a

lot of information and will save a lot of lives. Thank you for coming and give
Jim my best regards. I’m sure we will be able to meet soon. I’d like to meet
your son.”

Chapter 42
Jim Casey’s Reduction in Rank
Two days after Jim Casey had delivered Admiral Fukudome to
Lieutenant Colonel Onishi Saito, the Japanese commander launched an
attack on Tupas. He threatened to burn down villages and execute civilians
in reprisal unless the rest of the prisoners were released to him.
Casey, his family and the guerillas retreated further into the
mountains and Jim radioed MacArthur that he had forwarded the
contents of Fukudome’s briefcase to Australia but explained that he could
not hold the prisoners.
MacArthur replied: ENEMY PRISONERS MUST BE HELD AT ALL
COSTS.
“This is an impossible order,” Jim said, “The Japanese will attack in
force and we won’t be able to hold out. There are only 27 of us.”
“How soon do we have to move?” Rita asked.
“We’ve got to go immediately.”
Their mules were quickly packed with food, ammunition, tents and
weapons. Within an hour they were on their way to camp high in the
mountains.
That night Jim set up his ATR4A radio and sent a message to
MacArthur:
CONTENTS OF BRIEF CASE ARE ON THE WAY TO YOU VIA
SUBMARINE. THE PRISONERS WILL BE RELEASED TO THE

JAPANESE COMMAND TOMORROW TO AVOID CONTINUING
REPRISALS.
When MacArthur received Casey’s message he stormed into General
Sutherland’s office
“I want that son of bitch Casey reduced to a private ASAP. As soon as
we take back Cebu I want him brought up on charges of disobeying a lawful
order.”
“Yes Sir. I’ll have the orders cut immediately and radio Cebu.
Consider it done Sir.”
The day after they arrived at their destination Jim sent a message to
Onishi carried down the mountains by a civilian. The note promised Onishi
that he would release the prisoners in return for Onishi’s promise to
suspend any reprisals. Onishi agreed an sent a note back to Casey agreeing
to the terms. An unarmed platoon led by Lieutenant Pedro Villareal
escorted the prisoners down the mountain to freedom.
Conditions where Jim and his band camped were not very good. It
rained for days on end and the place was thick with mosquitos. Rita and
their son, James Casey Junior, contracted malaria and their condition
rapidly worsened. Within a month they both contracted pneumonia and
soon died.
Heart broken, “Private” James Casey poured himself into the
guerilla war with the Japanese.

He and his band raided the Japanese camp with surprise attacks at
night and silently slit their throats as they slept. After loosing half of his
troops Colonel Onishi committed Hara-kiri.

Chapter 43
The Battle for Saipan
Admiral Koga was replaced as Commander of the Combined Fleet by
Admiral Toyoda Soemu former commander of the Yokosuka naval airbase.
A brilliant leader he was meticulous and demanding of his subordinates.
He had been ashore for most of the war and he realized that he needed an
experienced Chief of Staff. He chose Admiral Kusaka Ryunosuke a veteran
of the raid on Pearl Harbor and Admiral Nagumo’s Chief of Staff. Admiral
Kusaka was serving under his cousin Admiral Kusaka Junichi at Rabaul.
Before leaving Rabaul his friends gave him a farewell party. “We are
all jealous of you,” his cousin said, “Here we are unable to go anyplace
because of the American planes that fly over everyday.”
Kusaka’s closest friend said, “In honor of your promotion we have
prepared a special dinner for you. Close your eyes for a moment and we
will surprise you.”
“What’s this, sea eel! And boiled eggplant mixed in miso. Seaweed
soup, rice boiled with barley. What a meal we’ll have.”
“And that’s not all,” General Iwamura said, “We have some fine sake
from Niigata.”
Not wanting to suffer the fate of Admiral Yamamoto, Admiral
Fukudome and Admiral Koga and be shot down by American planes,
Admiral Kusaka took off by seaplane that same night.

Pouring Johnny Walker Black Label whiskey, his friends had a final
toast just before four in the morning. They shouted Banzai, Banzai, Banzai,
as Kusaka’s seaplane took off. Its engine exhausts had been lengthened to
hide the exhaust flames. At dawn it suddenly became light and they
watched as a flight of American fighters flashed by so close Kusaka could
see the pilots. Blinded by the sun they had missed seeing the plane that
was carrying Admiral Kusaka to his new post as commander of the
Combined Fleet.
They landed at Truk to refuel and went on to Saipan. Admiral
Nagumo who, after the battles of Midway and Guadalcanal, was reduced to
commanding a small area fleet, met Kusaka in a reunion after he landed.
“As you can see we are not well defended. So many of our planes and
pilots have been lost,” Nagumo said.
“This is such a strategic island Admiral,” Kusaka said, “When I get to
Tokyo I will see that you get what you need to fend off the enemy.”
Early the next morning Kusaka took off for Iwo Jima. The island was
so small, while his plane was being refueled, Kusaka inspected it’s
defenses. The defenses were cleverly placed and the island was well
fortified but there were not enough machine guns and artillery guns. He
met with the islands commander Captain Wachi Tsuneo, the secret agent
and assistant naval attache in Mexico city before the Pearl Harbor attack.
“Wachi-san I promise I will send you more weapons,” Kusaka said, “
and I wish you a good fight with the enemy.”

At the Combined Fleet’s headquarters Kusaka found a public air of
confidence and private despair over the progress of the war. It was clear
that the tide of good fortune had shifted to the Americans. It didn’t take a
genius to see the problems. Aircraft production had almost ground to a
complete halt. The training of pilots was too short and the navy’s
experienced pilots were almost all gone. Kusaka met with Admiral Toyoda.
“I have completed a study of the situation,” Toyoda said, “But the
results are so bad I cannot release it to anybody. Only someone with your
experience can turn things around for our navy.”
“Sir, I understand the situation. My immediate task is to decide how
the fleet should be organized. The drastic reorganization that took place
this Spring has spread our forces thin over too wide an area.”
“That was one of conclusions of my study. There is no general plan
for an offensive operation.”
“Admiral Ozawa’s First Mobile Fleet is anchored at Lingga Roads off
Singapore. That’s close to its fuel supply but it’s too far from the
Philippines. You know that old Chinese proverb. No matter how strong the
bow, an arrow in long flight cannot tear the sheerest silk.”
“Yes. When you finish sizing up the situation and make a plan, let me
see it.”
“Do you agree that we must have a decisive battle in order to stop
the Americans.”

“If we don’t we will lose the war. The enemy’s economy and strength
are just as Admiral Yamamoto said. “Too strong for us to win.
Unfortunately, Midway was a disaster. When we lost Guadalcanal it was the
signal pointing to a very bad end.”
Kusaka remembered Saipan and it’s deficient defenses. He wrote
General Tojo a strongly worded letter. And he kept badgering the Army
general staff. Tojo annoyed by Kusaka’s nagging wrote him a letter. ‘I
personally guarantee the defense of Saipan.’ In the end a Colonel brought
Kusaka Tojo’s message.
The Colonel said. “General Togo said the army hopes the Americans
land at Saipan where we can defeat them completely.”
Kusaka studied the tactical problems and the details. He described
the problem as a “hop, skip and a Jump” to get Ozawa’s Mobile Fleet in the
Palaus where the decisive battle would be joined. If the Americans attacked
the Mariannas, the problem would be to lure them south to save the Mobile
Fleet’s fuel and be close to Japanese land air bases. It was planned that
one-third of the American fleet’s aircraft carriers would be destroyed by
450 planes from the land-based planes of the First Air Fleet. At the end of
April Admiral Toyoda approved of Kusaka’s “A” plan and issued general
orders.
The “hop” was to Tawi Tawi in the southernmost Philippine islands.
The, “Skip” the center of the Philippines and the “jump” would be to the
Palaus or Saipan.

On May 10th Ozawa’s Mobile Fleet left Lingga Roads and headed for
Tawi Tawi.
Roosevelt’s Momentous Decision
General MacArthur, Admiral Nimitz and President Roosevelt met in
Hawaii to discuss the next steps in the defeat of Japan. The President
listened as both men made a strong argument for their plans for victory.
After they finished the President complemented both men on their
presentations. He said he was tired and would like to sleep on it and give
his decision the following morning.
Roosevelt’s decision was to authorize both plans, Permission was
given for MacArthur to defeat the Japanese in the Philippines. General
MacArthur’s forces were leaping great distances over Japanese occupied
islands, with minimal loss of troops as they moved towards their object,
After taking Hollandia in eastern New Guinea their next objective was the
small island to the west, strategically located in the mouth of New Guinea’s
largest bay, Biak.
Admiral Nimitz was in command of the Pacific Fleet at its base in
Pearl Harbor. Months earlier Admiral Nimitz and his staff had pondered a
huge problem in the central Pacific. The American fast carriers and
support the ships of Admiral Spruance’s Fifth Fleet were operating at
distances thousands of miles from their base at Pearl Harbor. Standing at a
map of the Pacific Nimitz said. “The forward advance of our fleet is being
seriously slowed by the great distances that exist between Pearl Harbor

and our target Japanese islands in the Pacific, Saipan here, Tinian here
and Guam here. The question is what can we do about solving this difficulty
as promptly as possible.”
“A senior staff officer said, “Sir, this is just an idea, but couldn’t we
establish several floating mobile bases that can move forward as we take
Japanese held islands? We have the supply ships to deliver fuel and all the
other things needed to keep a fleet supplied and can quickly build steel
barges to store every item of supply our fleet needs.”
Nimitz smiled. “That’s exactly the idea I have been thinking over.
Let’s break up into functional groups and sort this idea out. I’d like to have
you report back here in three hours to see what we can come up with.
After the officers were seated in conference room. Admiral Nimitz
asked his Chief of Staff to chair the meeting. “The crucial component in a
plan is how fast we can organize three mobile supply bases. We know what
essentials each mobile base will need except for the fuel and ammunition
requirements.”
After two hours of discussion a list was outlined on a large black
board.
1. Destroyers to protect refueling and other supply needs.
2. Roving groups of large fast tankers covering an area ocean big
enough and fast enough to allow the ships of the fleet to refuel at high
speed.
3. Repair ships equipped to make minor and emergency repairs

4. Tugs to move and position ships and barges
5. Ammunition Barges to float ammunition to the safety zones.
6. Protected lagoons so that the mobile base could be protected from
Japanese submarines.
7. Establish these at Majuro Atoll in the Marshall Islands, then at
Eniwetok and then Ulithi Atoll in the Palaus.
They discussed the outline at length and after all of Admiral Nimitz’s
questions were discussed he went to the podium and said, “Well done
gentlemen. Get the details down as quickly as you can and let’s proceed.
The Japanese Navy’s Plan
Admiral Toyoda had made the new cruiser Oyodo the flagship of the
Combined Fleet. The American landing at Biak was a great shock to
Admiral Toyoda’s staff. After all it came on the 39th anniversary of
Admiral Togo’s great victory at Tsushima. Kusaka saw it as an opportunity.
“If we take it back,” Kusaka said, “we will draw the American fleet in
close enough so that we can have the decisive battle near Palau.”
Commander Nakajima Chikataka, the intelligence officer disagreed.
“The landing at Biak is secondary,” he said, “Their main target is
Saipan. The offensive will be completely supported by the Pacific Fleet.”
“I don’t agree,” Kusaka said, “We need to retake Biak. We can make a
plan tonight and attack tomorrow.”
Kusaka’s plan, operation KON, to retake Biak failed. Destroyers and
transport were turned back by American air attack. A second attempt by

six destroyers was already underway. Just before noon on June 8th
bombers sank one of them. The remaining five hurried back north when
they spotted an America destroyer at midnight. Admiral Ozawa radioed the
Combined Fleet that the airfields of Biak were too important to lose.
“Another attempt to retake Biak might draw the American Fleet back into
the area and enable us to put plan “A” into effect.” Kusaka also piled on and
he managed to convince Toyoda to let Ozawa make another attack in
greater force. The plan KON was strengthen with the assignment of a light
cruiser, six destroyers and the two super battleships Musashi and Yamato.
Just prior to dusk the KON force left Tawi Tawi for Biak.
A large American force under Admiral Nimitz was approaching
Saipan, the primary target. The island was more than 1,300 miles to the
northeast from the Japanese Combined Fleet.
At noon on June 11th Nimitz launched a strike of 280 fighter planes,
and 8 torpedo planes against Tinian and Saipan. Ignoring desultory
antiaircraft fire they descended on the two islands separated by a narrow
channel. The planes bombed and strafed the airfields. Destroying over 100
planes on the ground. A great fire broke out that swept through the 4 foot
high savannah grass on the slopes above the largest town on the island,
Garapan.
There was panic in the Japanese Combined Fleet Headquarters in
Tokyo. Biak could not serve as the lure to entice the entire American
Pacific Fleet into a Palau Island battle zone. Combined Fleet Headquarter

ordered the KON strike abandoned and ordered the fleet to join Admiral
Ozawa in the sea just west of Saipan.
Admiral Nagumo was ordered to take command of the newly created
Central Pacific Area Fleet. He was told that he would be in command of
both the Army and Navy forces within the confines of the Central Pacific
Area that included responsibility for the defense of Tinian and Saipan.
“These orders are so vague,” Nagumo said, “I really don’t know what
they want me to do. I know practically nothing about commanding an
army.”
“Surely the army commander responsible for the defense of Saipan
knows what he should do,” Nagumo’s Chief of Staff said, “We have very
little information about the situation on the other islands in the Central
Pacific area. I suggest that we take quick tour to find out what the
conditions are like in rest of your area of command.”
“I agree. Let’s do it quickly and get back to Saipan. I am not
impressed with General Saito. He’s an old cavalryman. He knows which
end of a horse is the head. But he has no experience of command under
fire.”
“Yes. He’s stodgy and not aggressive enough. Besides as Admiral
Kusaka reported there are not enough weapons and artillery to mount a
defense of the island.

When the American submarines torpedoed our ships on the way to
Saipan it was a disaster. We lost all the construction materials needed to
reinforce our fixed positions along with most of the weapons, artillery and
ammunition.”
Admiral Nagumo was flying on the first leg of his tour when the
bombardment of Saipan by seven American battleships and eleven
destroyers began two days before the landing. During the first day they
fired 15,000 rounds of five and sixteen-inch shells at the defenders of
Saipan. The results had more effect lowering the morale of the Japanese
defenders than any military destruction that took place.
The second day eight battleships, six heavy cruisers, and five light
cruisers joined them. The new arrivals were experienced in the slow and
careful salvos that are necessary to pinpoint military targets on shore.
Unfortunately General Saito had decided to defend the beaches rather than
digging in on high ground in the volcanic caves that could have formed an
almost impregnable line of defense.
Three divisions finished intensive training and rehearsed
coordinated landings In Hawaii. The Admiral Nimitz assembled 110 naval
transport ships along with enough Liberty ships to transport the entire
American assault forces along with seven thousand corps and garrison
troops to the landing point 3,200 miles away. Nineteen days later on June
15th the American troops landed on Saipan.

Magellan discovered the Marinas, a chain of tropical volcanic islands
in 1521. In the seventeenth century they were officially named to honor
Mariana of Austria, the widow of Philip IV of Spain. As the power of Spain
waned in the seventeenth century they sold the Marshalls, the Carolines
and Marianas to Germany for $4 million dollars. During World War I the
Japanese occupied the islands and being on the winning side, were
afterwards given the mandate over them by the League of Nations. In 1935
they built Aslito Airfield at the southern end of Saipan and a little later a
seaplane base on the west coast. At the same time they built a fighter plane
strip at the northern tip. A civilian administration was sent out from
Japan to govern Saipan and the South Sea Development Company a
government owned enterprise, rapidly increased the production of Sugar
Cane, the only large scale commercial crop on the island.
There was a stir in the United States and some in the government
accused Japan of using the islands as a military and naval base contrary to
the League of Nations Covenant. The truth was that there no more than a
handful of Army and Navy personnel on the island for two years after the
Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. In the first two years of the war Saipan
was used as a staging area.
By the time of attack on Pearl Harbor the Japanese population
hovered around thirty thousand and had reduced the original Chamorro
population to around four thousand people. The cane fields covered 70
percent of the land and along with the two volcanic mountain peaks, the

fifteen hundred foot Mount Tapotchau in the center, and Mount Marpi at
the northern end of the island that were joined by a jagged ridge pocked
with thousands of caves and escarpments Saipan was ideally suited for
defensive warfare.
Even after the fall of Kwajalein and Tarawa, Saipan had only a token
force and only a few scattered pillboxes were built. Little else was done to
fortify the island.
On the morning of February 23, 1944, Admiral Nimitz’s carrier-
based bombers again attacked the airfields on Saipan. The attack was a
disaster for the Japanese. They managed to get 74 planes in the air from
Saipan, Tinian and Guam but the Americans destroyed 101 planes on the
ground. The Japanese managed to shoot down six Americans, but only 7 of
the 74 enemy planes returned safely to their bases.
Following the raid all regular civilian and government activities
were closed down. Everyone was put to work to build shelters and rebuild
the airstrip. The work slowly had a positive effect on morale. But orders
came from Tokyo to repatriate old people, women and children to Japan.
On March 3rd, the Amerika-maru sailed with seventeen hundred
passengers made up families of the executives of the South Sea
Development Company or influential citizens. Three days later American
submarines torpedoed the ship with the loss of all hands.
At the end of May the Japanese Army’s 43rd Division sailed for
Saipan. Their forces were divided into two convoys. The first arrived safely

but the second. a force of 7,000 men came under attack from a series of
submarine attacks and five of the seven ships were sunk. Fleeing in dread
the other two ships crammed their decks with survivors and scurried to
Saipan. Nearly six thousand finally reached Saipan. Many of the troops
were wounded or badly burned and few had any weapons or ammunition.
Survivors arriving in Saipan with out their weapons, were dejected and
generated a feeling of impending defeat.
Dispirited and disorganized the army was so tattered and torn that
Major Takashi Hirakushi reported that it would be six months or more
before a defense could be constructed. Talking to a fellow officer he said. “I
am afraid to submit this report to Tokyo. Once they read this they will call
me a coward and ship me to the Siberian boarder.”
“Don’t worry. I think we are all doomed to die here on Saipan.”
Admiral Nagumo was the head of this defense force but in practice he
always deferred to General Obata commander of the 31st Army. He was
away on an inspection trip to the Palaus. His chief of staff, Major General
Igeta was outranked by General Saito. Saito’s lack of initiative stemmed
from the fact that Japanese army doctrine decreed that the beaches were
to be defended until death. How could he defy an order from the Imperial
Presence?
The American 2nd and 4th Marine Divisions were offshore staring at
the island. The medical briefing officer gave a description of the natural
dangers lurking on Saipan. “Men, listen up. This is important information

that could save your life tomorrow morning. The first word is poison. There
are deadly sea snakes and poison fish in the surf. The second thing is Flesh
eating Fish. There are Barracuda and Sharks swimming in the water.
Giant Clams and razor sharp coral reefs may trip you up. If you fall in the
water the weight of your equipment could cause you to drown. That’s only
part of the bad news. Once you are ashore leprosy, filaraiasis, typhoid and
Dysentery could strike you down. Oh, and don’t forget the giant lizards and
poisonous snakes.”
Everyone groaned and one marine said, “Sir, why don’t we let the
Japs just keep the island? Nobody laughed.
During the night the fleet edged nearer to the island. A dull red glow
marked the burning buildings, and a grass fire spread rapidly up the
mountainside and across the cane fields. No one aboard the ships was able
to sleep. The sun burst up from tropical the sea and through the smoke and
haze they could see the island. Some one said, “It looks like a tropical
monster rising up out of the sea. Look, there’s our first objective Charan
Kanova that small town. I hope to hell it isn’t well defended.”
His platoon leader said, “It should be a push over. We’re landing two
divisions spread out on four-mile front. I’d hate to be a Jap on the other
side.”
At five thirty the destroyers, cruisers and battleships began the final
bombardment before the marines started ashore. The noise echoed off the
mountainside in a deafening roar. Vice Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner

watched through binoculars. “I don’t see how there can be any living thing
between us and the that little town” At five forty two he gave the command,
“Land the landing force. Chaplains’ give the last prayer and blessings.”
These blared out over the loudspeakers on all the ships. With the
final ”God be with you.,” preparations for the landing began as the shelling
resumed. Landing more than 8,000 marines with their weapons,
ammunition and heavy packs was a complex undertaking. The carriers
launched the first wave of almost two hundred planes. The flights bombed
Charan Kanoa and the surrounding. By the time the last flight was over the
area a dense cloud of dust and smoke made it impossible to aim at any
particular target.
Admiral Nagumo had returned to Saipan and was standing on the
top of a rickety thirty foot wooden tower on the steep slopes behind
Garapan. As he watched the invasion his binoculars were focused on the
huge American fleet. He was fixated on the huge array of cruisers and
American battleships anchored off shore. He saw 4 of the battleships he
had sunk at Pearl Harbor and was amazed at their very existence.
“You can’t do anything but admire the power of the Americans. They
have already repaired the battleships our fleet sunk in Hawaii,” he told his
aide.
‘Yes, Admiral, I seems like the whole armed might of the world has
come to defeat us on this island. What can we do to stop them?”

“I am not optimistic but we can counter with Bushido spirit and the
Gods may send us a favorable wind.” Nagumo knew that the truth was that
in a matter of days the battle for Saipan would be over and Japan would
suffer another terrible defeat.
The American invasion did not go as planned. Although the landing
itself was a marvel of execution Japanese conditions on the ground were
not as they had been imagined. Eight hundred yards from shore the
Japanese laid down a heavy barrage of mortar and artillery fire. The
Americans responded with an armada of 500 planes that strafed and
bombed the beaches creating a scene of mass bedlam. In the ensuing
confusion the Marines, carried by amphtracs protected by amphibian
tanks managed to land 8,000 Marines within 20 minutes.
The town of Garapan instead of being built of bamboo with thatched
roofs and paper sides were concrete one and two story block buildings with
harden positions for the defenders to send a withering fire at the American
Marines as they advanced towards the town. The American troops were at
first pinned down and taking heavy casualties. They gradually fought their
way slowly into the town.
The American bombing and artillery fire was intense. A Marine
Captain said, “I don’t see how there can be any Japs left alive they are
taking such heavy bombardment. The Marines continued to land. By the
end of the day they had landed 20,000 men but had sustained 2,000
casualties. No one had expected the fighting would be so intense.

The Japanese casualties were also mounting. General Saito’s
command post had received a direct hit and most of his staff were killed.
Even though he was dazed by the explosion he recovered his optimistic
state of mind. He radioed Tokyo late in the afternoon:
AFTER DARK THIS DIVISION WILL LAUNCH AN ATTACK IN FORCE AND
EXPECT TO ANNIHILATE THE ENEMY IN A SINGLE GREAT STROKE
The few remaining staff officers who had to plan the attach were
dispirited and doubtful. There were only 36 tanks left and the troops were
widely scattered. Only a thousand infantrymen were left to deliver the
“great stroke.”
The operation slowly unfolded in a series of mistakes and confusion.
The Americans were on constant watch and the noise of the Japanese
assembly attracted their attention. The Marines responded with accurate
artillery fire and dispersed the Japanese officers. The tanks positioned
themselves at the the assigned time but the infantry was late arriving.
General Saito was missing and was reported dead in the grass fire that
blazed up the mountain. Major Hiratsuki who was supposed to command
the infantry was dispatched to bring General Saito’s body back. Another
young officer was assigned to lead the charge. He mounted a tank but
before it had gone very far it took a direct hit and stopped. The remaining
tanks charged ahead but got lost in a swamp where they mired down. The
infantry came charging up out of breath and joined the remaining tanks
that broke free. Led by young officers with drawn swords they charged

headlong into the American positions. The shock of their charge was so
furious that it took intense machine gun and rifle fire to stop them. The
Japanese regrouped several times and charged again and again. Almost
700 died before the fighting stopped and the American lines were still
intact.
Major Hiratsuki almost perished in the fire looking for General Saito
but he used his sword to hack his way through the burning grass. When he
didn’t find the General’s body he went back to division headquarters and
found Saito sitting on the ground, alive but dazed and barely conscious.
“Are you okay Commander?
Saito looked at him but did not respond.
He looked in the cave for someone to help him but everyone was
dead. It looked like a large American shell had blasted the cave. He sat
down next to General Saito and talked to him. “Commander Sir, can you
hear me? We must move to a more secure place.” Hiratsuki thought Saito
must be in shock.
Saito just stared into space so Hiratsuki pulled him to his feet and
put his body across his own shoulders. Saito was a small man and had not
eaten for days. He was not very heavy and Major Hiratsuki managed to
carry him with little effort. Now, where to go? With out it’s senior officers
the Japanese forces were like a writhing headless snake. It’s offensive
power was rapidly dissolving in the heat, dust, and withering fire from the
enemy. He quickly decided to head north away from the fighting to try and

find a hiding place where he might get General Saito some medical
attention, find soldiers, and ready a counter attack.

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East

A novel of World War II in the Pacific

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This is a work of fiction. All incidents, and dialogue and all

characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public

figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be

situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning the persons are entirely

entirely fictional nature of this work. In all other respects, any

resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Word Count: 211489 2

All rights reserved.

Word Count: 211489 3

both sides of World War II in the Pacific.

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On the eve of World War II in the Pacific Japan was a country of 73

kilometers slightly smaller than California. Much of the country was

mountainous and ill suited for agriculture. A growing population, rural

poverty, and food shortages caused the leadership to embark on an

The first Sino-Japanese war resulted in the annexation of Korea and

Formosa. The Czar’s expansionist activity was responsible for the

military engagement with a western power.

Japan was complex economic, social, and cultural stew in which

feudal relationships and rigid hierarchical social structure caused great

political strains. In spite of the authoritarian nature of the constitution, the

religious veneration of the Emperor, and the competition between

democratic and fascistic ideologies, by the 1920’s Japan had made

considerable progress towards a democratic society. The development of

modern forms of business organization and development of a middle class

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countryside. The Army was increasingly comprised of people who came

began with the accession of Hirohito to the throne. A series of attempted

and successful political assassinations by idealistic young army officers

Japan invaded Manchuria in 1931. International condemnation that

of the new state, Manchukuo, resulted in Japan leaving the League of

South Manchurian Railroad, Mantetsu as it was called in Japanese. As the

economic agent of Japanese immigration into the vast empty spaces of

Manchuria. Mantetsu set up research sections to study the geography and

economy of the region and design a modern authoritarian state.

In January 1936 Japan withdrew from the Second London Naval

Disarmament Conference when it refused parity for Japanese naval forces

Polo” railroad bridge killing the Chinese General Chang-So-Lin. The

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to be the beginning of World War II in Asia.

characterized by a crowded coastal band of very high density, along with

last Imperial Ching Dynasty and the establishment of a republic in 1911.

undermined by the existence of local warlords, and a strong communist

murdered in what came to be known as the “White Terror.”

Then the Japanese invaded China from their conquest territories in

Manchuria, and an invasion of Shanghai from ships off the coast at

Shanghai. In August and September Chiang Kai-shek committed the best of

attrition of Chinese forces was terrible as the Japanese gradually ground

casualties were only about 40,000 men.

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casualties. The Chinese losses in these campaigns amounted to almost half

of the best officers were killed.

Thereupon full-scale hostilities began between the two nations. The

took Shanghai in November and the Chinese capital, Nanking, in December

1937. Chiang Kai-shek moved his government to Han-kou, one of the

Hopeh and Shansi provinces. In 1938 the Japanese launched several

forced to move their government to Chungking in Szechwan Province,

about 500 miles west of the Wuhan cities.

in South China in 1938. Nationalist Chinese resistance to these Japanese

advances was ineffective, primarily because the Nationalist leadership was

with the Communists than in repelling the Japanese. By contrast, the