On the
evening of December 6, 1941, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the president of the
United States, received a message intercepted by the U.S. Navy. Sent from Tokyo
to the Japanese embassy in Washington, the message was encrypted in the
top-level Japanese “purple code.” But that was no problem. The Americans had
cracked the code long before that.
It was
imperative that the president see the message right away because it revealed
that the Japanese, under the heavy pressure of Western economic sanctions, were
terminating relations with the United States. Roosevelt read the thirteen-part
transmission, looked up and announced, “This means war.”
He then did
a very strange thing for a president in his situation.
Nothing.
The Japanese
secret declaration of war never reached the people who needed to hear it the
most – Admiral Husband E. Kimmel, commander in chief of the United States
Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, and the unit’s commanding general,
Walter Short. Pearl Harbor, it was common military knowledge, was where the
Japanese would strike. If they struck.
At dawn the
next morning a Japanese squadron bombed Pearl Harbor and the surprise attack
was just that, a complete surprise. At least to Kimmel and Short and the 4,575
American servicemen who died.
It may not
have been such a surprise to Generals George C. Marshall and Leonard T. Gerow
and Admirals Harold R. Stark and Richmond Kelly Turner. They were the
military’s top brass in Washington and the only officers authorized to forward
such sensitive intelligence to outlying commanders. But the decoded war declaration
did not reach Kimmel and Short until the morning, with the attack well underway
off in the Pacific.
Marshall and
Stark, supreme commanders of the U.S. Army and Navy respectively, later
testified that the message was not forwarded to Kimmel and Short because the
Hawaiian commanders had received so many intercepted Japanese messages that
another one would simply confuse them.
Internal
army and navy inquiries in 1944 held Stark and Marshall derelict of duty for
keeping the Hawaiian commanders in the dark. But the military buried those
findings. As far as the public knew, the final truth was uncovered by the
Roberts Commission, headed by Justice Owen Roberts of the Supreme Court, and
convened eleven days after the attack. Like another investigative commission
headed by a Supreme Court justice on a different topic more than twenty years
later, the Roberts Commission appeared to have identified its culprits in
advance and gerrymandered its inquiries to make the suspects appear guilty. The
scapegoats were Kimmel and Short, who were both publicly crucified, forced to
retire, and denied the open hearings they desired. One of the Roberts
Commission panelists, Admiral William Standley, would call Roberts’s
performance “crooked as a snake.”
There were
eight investigations of Pearl Harbor altogether. The most spectacular was a
joint House-Senate probe that reiterated the Roberts Commission findings. At
those hearings, Marshall and Stark testified, incredibly, that they could not
remember where they were the night the war declaration came in. But a close
friend of Frank Knox, the secretary of the Navy, later revealed that Knox,
Stark, and Marshall spent most of that night in the White House with Roosevelt
awaiting the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the chance for America to join World
War II.
A widespread
coverup ensued. A few days after Pearl Harbor, reports historian John Toland,
Marshall told his top officers, “Gentlemen, this goes to the grave with us.”
General Short once considered Marshall his friend, only to learn that the chief
of staff was the agent of his frame-up. Short once remarked that he pitied his
former pal because Marshall was the only general who wouldn’t be able to write
an autobiography.
There were
multiple warnings of the Pearl Harbor attack concealed from the commanders at
Pearl Harbor. The Winds Code was perhaps the most shocking. That was an earlier
transmission, in a fake weather report broadcast on a Japanese short-wave
station, of the words higashi no kaze ame. Which means, “east wind, rain.” The
Americans already knew that this was the Japanese code for war with the United
States. The response of top U.S. military officials? To deny that the “winds”
message existed and to attempt to destroy all records of its reception. But it
did exist. And it was received.
Completely
apart from the cloak and dagger of cryptography, the Australian intelligence
service, three days before the attack, spotted the Japanese fleet of aircraft
carriers heading for Hawaii. A warning went to Washington where it was
dismissed by Roosevelt as a politically motivated rumor circulated by
Republicans.
A British
double agent, Dusko Popov, who siphoned information from Germany, learned of
the Japanese intentions and desperately tried to warn Washington, to no avail.
And there were others.
Why would
Roosevelt and the nation’s top military commanders sacrifice the U.S. Pacific
Fleet, not to mention thousands of servicemen – an act that could justifiably
be deemed treason? They had concluded long before Pearl Harbor that war against
the Axis powers was a necessity. The American public would surely bring the
public around.
“This was
the president’s problem,” wrote Rear Admiral Robert A. Theobald who commanded
Pearl Harbor’s destroyers, “and his solution was based upon the simple fact
that, while it takes two to make a fight, either one may start it.”
“A Small
group of men, revered and held to be most honorable by millions,” wrote Toland,
“had convinced themselves that it was necessary to act dishonorably for the
food of their nation – and incited the war that Japan had tried to avoid.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.