Winter of the World

11

1941 (IV)

Woody Dewar and Joanne Rouzrokh flew from Oakland, California, to Honolulu on a Boeing B-314 flying boat. The Pan Am flight took fourteen hours. Just before arriving they had a massive row.

Perhaps it was spending so long in a small space. The flying boat was one of the biggest planes in the world, but passengers sat in one of six small cabins, each of which had two facing rows of four seats. ‘I prefer the train,’ said Woody, awkwardly crossing his long legs, and Joanne had the grace not to point out that you could not go to Hawaii by train.

The trip was Woody’s parents’ idea. They had decided to take a vacation in Hawaii so they could see Woody’s younger brother, Chuck, who was stationed there. Then they invited Woody and Joanne to join them for the second week of the holiday.

Woody and Joanne were engaged. Woody had proposed at the end of the summer, after four weeks of hot weather and passionate love in Washington. Joanne had said it was too soon, but Woody had pointed out that he had been in love with her for six years, and asked how long would be enough? She had given in. They would get married next June, as soon as Woody graduated from Harvard. Meanwhile, their engaged status entitled them to go on family holidays together.

She called him Woods, and he called her Jo.

The plane began to lose height as they approached Oahu, the main island. They could see forested mountains, a sparse scatter of villages in the lowlands, and a fringe of sand and surf. ‘I bought a new swimsuit,’ Joanne said. They were sitting side by side, and the roar of the four Wright Twin Cyclone 14-cylinder engines was too loud for her to be overheard.

Woody was reading The Grapes of Wrath but he put it down willingly. ‘I can’t wait to see you in it.’ He meant it. She was a swimsuit manufacturer’s dream, making all their products look sensational.

She glanced at him from under half-closed eyelids. ‘I wonder if your parents booked us adjoining rooms at the hotel?’ Her dark-brown eyes seemed to smoulder.

Their engaged status did not allow them to sleep together, at least not officially; though Woody’s mother did not miss much and she might have guessed they were lovers.

Woody said: ‘I’ll find you, wherever you are.’

‘You’d better.’

‘Don’t talk like that. I’m already uncomfortable enough in this seat.’

She smiled contentedly.

The American naval base came into view. A lagoon shaped like a palm leaf formed a large natural harbour. Half the Pacific Fleet was here, about a hundred ships. The rows of fuel storage tanks looked like checkers on a board.

In the middle of the lagoon was an island with an airstrip. At the western end of the island, Woody saw a dozen or more seaplanes moored.

Right next to the lagoon was Hickam air base. Several hundred aircraft were parked with military precision, wingtip to wingtip, on the tarmac.

Banking for its approach, the plane flew over a beach with palm trees and gaily striped umbrellas – which Woody guessed must be Waikiki – then a small town that had to be Honolulu, the capital.

Joanne was owed some leave by the State Department, but Woody had had to skip a week of classes in order to take this vacation. ‘I’m kind of surprised at your father,’ Joanne said. ‘He’s usually against anything that interrupts your education.’

‘I know,’ said Woody. ‘But you know the real reason for this trip, Jo? He thinks it could be the last time we see Chuck alive.’

‘Oh, my God, really?’

‘He thinks there’s going to be a war, and Chuck is in the navy.’

‘I think he’s right. There will be a war.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘The whole world is hostile to freedom.’ She pointed to the book in her lap, a bestseller called Berlin Diary by the radio broadcaster William Shirer. ‘The Nazis have Europe,’ she said. ‘The Bolsheviks have Russia. And now the Japanese are taking control of the Far East. I don’t see how America can survive in such a world. We have to trade with somebody!’

‘That’s pretty much what my father thinks. He believes we’ll go to war against Japan next year.’ Woody frowned thoughtfully. ‘What’s happening in Russia?’

‘The Germans don’t seem quite able to take Moscow. Just before I left there was a rumour of a massive Russian counter-attack.’

‘Good news!’

Woody looked out. He could see Honolulu airport. The plane would splash down in a sheltered inlet alongside the runway, he presumed.

Joanne said: ‘I hope nothing major happens while I’m away.’

‘Why?’

‘I want a promotion, Woods – so I don’t want someone bright and promising to shine in my absence.’

‘Promotion? You didn’t say.’

‘I don’t have it yet, but I’m aiming for Research Officer.’

He smiled. ‘How high do you want to go?’

‘I’d like to be ambassador to someplace fascinating and complex, Nanking or Addis Ababa.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t look sceptical. Frances Perkins is the first woman Secretary of Labour – and a damn good one.’

Woody nodded. Perkins had been Labor Secretary from the start of Roosevelt’s presidency eight years ago, and had won union support for the New Deal. An exceptional woman could aspire to almost anything nowadays. And Joanne was truly exceptional. But somehow it came as a shock to him that she was so ambitious. ‘But an ambassador has to live overseas,’ he said.

‘Wouldn’t it be great? Foreign culture, weird weather, exotic customs.’

‘But . . . how does that fit in with marriage?’

‘Excuse me?’ she said with asperity.

He shrugged. ‘It’s a natural question, don’t you think?’

Her expression did not change, except that her nostrils flared – a sign, he knew, that she was getting angry. ‘Have I asked you that question?’ she said.

‘No, but . . .’

‘Well?’

‘I’m just wondering, Jo – do you expect me to live wherever your career takes you?’

‘I’ll try to fit in with your needs, and I think you should try to fit in with mine.’

‘But it’s not the same.’

‘Isn’t it?’ She was openly annoyed now. ‘This is news to me.’

He wondered how the conversation had become so acrimonious so quickly. With an effort at making his tone of voice reasonable and amiable, he said: ‘We’ve talked about having children, haven’t we.’

‘You’ll have them, as well as me.’

‘Not in exactly the same way.’

‘If children are going to make me a second-class citizen in this marriage, then we’re not having any.’

‘That’s not what I mean!’

‘What the heck do you mean?’

‘If you’re appointed ambassador somewhere, do you expect me to drop everything and go with you?’

‘I expect you to say: ‘My darling, this is a wonderful opportunity for you, and I’m certainly not going to stand in your way.’ Is that unreasonable?’

‘Yes!’ Woody was baffled and angry. ‘What’s the point of being married, if we’re not together?’

‘If war breaks out, will you volunteer?’

‘I guess I might.’

‘And the army would send you wherever they needed you – Europe, the Far East.’

‘Well, yes.’

‘So you’ll go where your duty takes you, and leave me at home.’

‘If I have to.’

‘But I can’t do that.’

‘It’s not the same! Why are you pretending it is?’

‘Strangely enough, my career and my service to my country seem important to me – just as important as yours to you.’

‘You’re just being perverse!’

‘Well, Woods, I’m really sorry you think that, because I’ve been talking very seriously about our future together. Now I have to ask myself whether we even have one.’

‘Of course we do!’ Woody could have screamed with frustration. ‘How did this happen? How did we get to this?’

There was a bump, and the plane splashed down in Hawaii.

(ii)

Chuck Dewar was terrified that his parents would learn his secret.

Back home in Buffalo he had never had a real love affair, just a few hasty fumbles in dark alleys with boys he hardly knew. Half the reason he had joined the navy was to go places where he could be himself without his parents finding out.

Since he got to Hawaii it had been different. Here he was part of an underground community of similar people. He went to bars and restaurants and dance halls where he did not have to pretend to be heterosexual. He had had some affairs, and then he had fallen in love. A lot of people knew his secret.

And now his parents were here.

His father was invited to visit the signal intelligence unit at the naval base, known as Station HYPO. As a member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Senator Dewar was let into many military secrets, and he had already been shown around signals intelligence headquarters, called Op-20-G, in Washington.

Chuck picked him up at his hotel in Honolulu in a navy car, a Packard LeBaron limousine. Papa was wearing a white straw hat. As they drove around the rim of the harbour, he whistled. ‘The Pacific Fleet,’ he said. ‘A beautiful sight.’

Chuck agreed. ‘Quite something, isn’t it?’ he said. Ships were beautiful, especially in the US Navy, where they were painted and scrubbed and shined. Chuck thought the navy was great.

‘All those battleships in a perfect straight line,’ Gus marvelled.

‘We call it Battleship Row. Moored off the island are Maryland, Tennessee, Arizona, Nevada, Oklahoma and West Virginia.’ Battleships were named after states. ‘We also have California and Pennsylvania in harbour, but you can’t see them from here.’

At the main gate to the Navy Yard, the marine on sentry duty recognized the official car and waved them in. They drove to the submarine base and stopped in the parking lot behind headquarters, the Old Administration Building. Chuck took his father into the recently opened new wing.

Captain Vandermeier was waiting for them.

Vandermeier was Chuck’s greatest fear. He had taken a dislike to Chuck, and he had guessed the secret. He was always calling Chuck a powder puff or a pantywaist. If he could, he would spill the beans.

Vandermeier was a short, stocky man with a gravelly voice and bad breath. He saluted Gus and shook hands. ‘Welcome, Senator. It’ll be my privilege to show you the Communications Intelligence Unit of the fourteenth Naval District.’ This was the deliberately vague title for the group monitoring the radio signals of the Imperial Japanese Navy.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ said Gus.

‘A word of warning, first, sir. It’s an informal group. This kind of work is often done by eccentric people, and correct naval uniform is not always worn. The officer in charge, Commander Rochefort, wears a red velvet jacket.’ Vandermeier gave a man-to-man grin. ‘You may think he looks like a goddamn homo.’

Chuck tried not to wince.

Vandermeier said: ‘I won’t say any more until we’re in the secure zone.’

‘Very good,’ said Gus.

They went down the stairs and into the basement, passing through two locked doors on the way.

Station HYPO was a windowless neon-lit cellar housing thirty men. As well as the usual desks and chairs, it had oversized chart desks, racks of exotic IBM machine printers, sorters and collators, and two cots where the cryptanalysts took naps during their marathon codebreaking sessions. Some of the men wore neat uniforms but others, as Vandermeier had warned, were in scruffy civilian clothing, unshaven, and – to judge by the smell – unwashed.

‘Like all navies, the Japanese have many different codes, using the simplest for less secret signals, such as weather reports, and saving the complex ones for the most highly sensitive messages,’ Vandermeier said. ‘For example, call signs identifying the sender of a message and its destination are in a primitive cipher, even when the text itself is in a high-grade cipher. They recently changed the code for call signs, but we cracked the new one in a few days.’

‘Very impressive,’ said Gus.

‘We can also figure out where the signal originated, by triangulation. Given locations and the call signs, we can build up a pretty good picture of where most of the ships of the Japanese navy are, even if we can’t read the messages.’

‘So we know where they are, and what direction they’re taking, but not what their orders are,’ said Gus.

‘Frequently, yes.’

‘But if they wanted to hide from us, all they would have to do is impose radio silence.’

‘True,’ said Vandermeier. ‘If they go quiet, this whole operation becomes useless, and we are well and truly fucked up the ass.’

A man in a smoking jacket and carpet slippers approached, and Vandermeier introduced the head of the unit. ‘Commander Rochefort is fluent in Japanese, as well as being a master cryptanalyst,’ Vandermeier said.

‘We were making good progress decrypting the main Japanese cipher until a few days ago,’ Rochefort said. ‘Then the bastards changed it and undid all our work.’

Gus said: ‘Captain Vandermeier was telling me you can learn a lot without actually reading the messages.’

‘Yes.’ Rochefort pointed to a wall chart. ‘Right now, most of the Japanese fleet has left home waters and is heading south.’

‘Ominous.’

‘It sure is. But tell me, Senator, what’s your reading of Japanese intentions?’

‘I believe they will declare war on the United States. Our oil embargo is really hurting them. The British and the Dutch are refusing to supply them, and right now they’re trying to ship it from South America. They can’t survive like this indefinitely.’

Vandermeier said: ‘But what would they achieve by attacking us? A little country such as Japan can’t invade the USA!’

Gus said: ‘Great Britain is a little country, but they achieved world domination just by ruling the seas. The Japanese don’t have to conquer America, they just need to defeat us in a naval war, so that they can control the Pacific, and no one can stop them trading.’

‘So, in your opinion, what might they be doing, heading south?’

‘Their likeliest target has to be the Philippines.’

Rochefort nodded agreement. ‘We’ve already reinforced our base there. But one thing bothers me: the commander of the Japanese aircraft carrier fleet hasn’t received any signals for several days.’

Gus frowned. ‘Radio silence. Has that ever happened before?’

‘Yes. Aircraft carriers go quiet when they return to home waters. So we assume that’s the explanation this time.’

Gus nodded. ‘It sounds reasonable.’

‘Yes,’ said Rochefort. ‘I just wish I could be sure.’

(iii)

The Christmas lights were ablaze on Fort Street in Honolulu. It was Saturday night, 6 December, and the street was thronged with sailors in white tropical uniform, each with a round white cap and a crossed black scarf, all out for a good time.

The Dewar family strolled along enjoying the atmosphere, Rosa on Chuck’s arm and Gus and Woody on either side of Joanne.

Woody had patched up his quarrel with his fiancée. He apologized for making wrong assumptions about what Joanne expected in their marriage. Joanne admitted she had flown off the handle. Nothing was truly resolved, but it was enough of a rapprochement for them to tear off their clothes and jump into bed.

Afterwards, the quarrel seemed less important, and nothing really mattered except how much they loved each other. Then they vowed that in future they would discuss such agreements in a loving and tolerant way. As they got dressed Woody felt that they had passed a milestone. They had had an acrimonious quarrel about a serious difference of view, but they had survived it. It could even be a good sign.

Now they were heading out for dinner, Woody carrying his camera, snapping photos of the scene as they walked along. Before they had gone far Chuck stopped and introduced another sailor. ‘This is my pal, Eddie Parry. Eddie, meet Senator Dewar, Mrs Dewar, my brother Woody, and Woody’s fiancée, Miss Joanne Rouzrokh.’

Rosa said: ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Eddie. Chuck has mentioned you several times in his letters home. Won’t you join us for dinner? We’re only going to eat Chinese.’

Woody was surprised. It was not like his mother to invite a stranger to a family meal.

Eddie said: ‘Thank you, ma’am. I’d be honoured.’ He had a southern accent.

They went into the Heavenly Delight restaurant and sat down at a table for six. Eddie had formal manners, calling Gus ‘sir’ and the women ‘ma’am’, but he seemed relaxed. After they had ordered he said: ‘I’ve heard so much about this family, I feel as if I know y’all.’ He had a freckled face and a big smile, and Woody could tell that everyone liked him.

Eddie asked Rosa how she liked Hawaii. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m a little disappointed,’ she said. ‘Honolulu is just like any small American town. I expected it to be more Asian.’

‘I agree,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s all diners and motor courts and jazz bands.’

He asked Gus if there was going to be a war. Everyone asked Gus that question. ‘We’ve tried our darnedest to reach a modus vivendi with Japan,’ Gus said. Woody wondered if Eddie knew what a modus vivendi was. ‘Secretary of State Hull had a whole series of talks with Ambassador Nomura that lasted all summer long. But we can’t seem to agree.’

‘What’s the problem?’ said Eddie.

‘American business needs a free trade zone in the Far East. Japan says okay, fine, we love free trade, let’s have it, not just in our backyard, but all over the world. The United States can’t deliver that, even if we wanted it. So Japan says that as long as other countries have their own economic zone, they need one too.’

‘I still don’t see why they had to invade China.’

Rosa, who always tried to see the other side, said: ‘The Japanese want troops in China and Indochina and the Dutch East Indies to protect their interests, just as we Americans have troops in the Philippines, and the British have theirs in India, and the French in Algeria, and so on.’

‘When you put it that way, the Japs don’t seem so unreasonable!’

Joanne said firmly: ‘They’re not unreasonable, but they’re wrong. Conquering an empire is the nineteenth-century solution. The world is changing. We’re moving away from empires and closed economic zones. To give them what they want would be a backward step.’

Their food arrived. ‘Before I forget,’ Gus said, ‘we’re having breakfast tomorrow morning aboard the Arizona. Eight o’clock sharp.’

Chuck said: ‘I’m not invited, but I’ve been detailed to get you there. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty and drive you to the Navy Yard, then take you across the harbour in a launch.’

‘Fine.’

Woody tucked in to fried rice. ‘This is great,’ he said. ‘We should have Chinese food at our wedding.’

Gus laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not? It’s cheap, and it tastes good.’

‘A wedding is more than a meal, it’s an occasion. Speaking of which, Joanne, I must call your mother.’

Joanne frowned. ‘About the wedding?’

‘About the guest list.’

Joanne put down her chopsticks. ‘Is there a problem?’ Woody saw her nostrils flare, and knew there was going to be trouble.

‘Not really a problem,’ said Gus. ‘I have a rather large number of friends and allies in Washington who would be offended if they were not invited to the wedding of my son. I’m going to suggest that your mother and I share the cost.’

Papa was being thoughtful, Woody guessed. Because Dave had sold his business for a bargain price before he died, Joanne’s mother might not have a lot of money to spare for a swanky wedding. But Joanne disliked the idea of the two parents making wedding arrangements over her head.

‘Who are the friends and allies you’re thinking about?’ Joanne said coolly.

‘Senators and congressmen, mostly. We must invite the President, but he won’t come.’

‘Which senators and congressmen?’ Joanne asked.

Woody saw his mother hide a grin. She was amused at Joanne’s insistence. Not many people had the nerve to push Gus up against the wall like this.

Gus began a list of names.

Joanne interrupted him. ‘Did you say Congressman Cobb?’

‘Yes.’

‘He voted against the anti-lynching law!’

‘Peter Cobb is a good man. But he’s a Mississippi politician. We live in a democracy, Joanne: we have to represent our voters. Southerners won’t support an anti-lynching law.’ He looked at Chuck’s friend. ‘I hope I’m not treading on any toes here, Eddie.’

‘Don’t mince your words on my account, sir,’ Eddie said. ‘I’m from Texas, but I feel ashamed when I think of southern politics. I hate prejudice. A man’s a man, whatever his colour.’

Woody glanced at Chuck. He looked so proud of Eddie he might have burst.

At that moment, Woody realized that Eddie was more than just Chuck’s pal.

That was weird.

There were three loving couples around the table: Papa and Mama, Woody and Joanne, and Chuck and Eddie.

He stared at Eddie. Chuck’s lover, he thought.

Damn weird.

Eddie caught him staring, and smiled amiably.

Woody tore his gaze away. Thank God Papa and Mama haven’t figured it out, he thought.

Unless that was why Mama had invited Eddie to join in a family dinner. Did she know? Did she even approve? No, that was beyond the bounds of possibility.

‘Anyway, Cobb has no choice,’ Papa was saying. ‘And in everything else he’s a liberal.’

‘There’s nothing democratic about it,’ Joanne said hotly. ‘Cobb doesn’t represent the people of the south. Only white people are allowed to vote there.’

Gus said: ‘Nothing is perfect in this life. Cobb supported Roosevelt’s New Deal.’

‘That doesn’t mean I have to invite him to my wedding.’

Woody put in: ‘Papa, I don’t want him either. He has blood on his hands.’

‘That’s unfair.’

‘It’s how we feel.’

‘Well, the decision is not entirely up to you. Joanne’s mother will be throwing the party, and if she’ll let me I’ll share the cost. I guess that gives us at least a say in the guest list.’

Woody sat back. ‘Heck, it’s our wedding.’

Joanne looked at Woody. ‘Maybe we should have a quiet town hall wedding, with just a few friends.’

Woody shrugged. ‘Suits me.’

Gus said severely: ‘That would upset a lot of people.’

‘But not us,’ said Woody. ‘The most important person of the day is the bride. I just want her to have what she wants.’

Rosa spoke up. ‘Listen to me, everyone,’ she said. ‘Don’t let’s go overboard. Gus, my darling, you may have to take Peter Cobb aside and explain to him, gently, that you are lucky enough to have an idealistic son, who is marrying a wonderful and equally idealistic girl, and they have stubbornly refused your impassioned request to invite Congressman Cobb to the wedding. You’re sorry, but you cannot follow your own inclinations in this any more than Peter can follow his when voting on anti-lynching bills. He will smile and say he understands, and he has always liked you because you’re as straight as a die.’

Gus hesitated for a long moment, then decided to give in graciously. ‘I guess you’re right, my dear,’ he said. He smiled at Joanne. ‘Anyway, I’d be a fool to quarrel with my delightful daughter-in-law on account of Pete Cobb.’

Joanne said: ‘Thank you . . . Should I start calling you Papa yet?’

Woody almost gasped. It was the perfect thing to say. She was so damn smart!

Gus said: ‘I would really like that.’

Woody thought he saw the glint of a tear in his father’s eye.

Joanne said: ‘Then thank you, Papa.’

How about that? thought Woody. She stood up to him – and she won.

What a girl!

(iv)

On Sunday morning, Eddie wanted to go with Chuck to pick up the family at their hotel.

‘I don’t know, baby,’ said Chuck. ‘You and I are supposed to be friendly, not inseparable.’

They were in bed in a motel at dawn. They had to sneak back into barracks before sunup.

‘You’re ashamed of me,’ said Eddie.

‘How can you say that? I took you to dinner with my family!’

‘That was your Mama’s idea, not yours. But your Papa liked me, didn’t he?’

‘They all adored you. Who wouldn’t? But they don’t know you’re a filthy homo.’

‘I am not a filthy homo. I’m a very clean homo.’

‘True.’

‘Please take me. I want to know them better. It’s really important to me.’

Chuck sighed. ‘Okay.’

‘Thank you.’ Eddie kissed him. ‘Do we have time . . . ?’

Chuck grinned. ‘If we’re quick.’

Two hours later they were outside the hotel in the navy’s Packard. Their four passengers appeared at seven-thirty. Rosa and Joanne wore hats and gloves, Gus and Woody white linen suits. Woody had his camera.

Woody and Joanne were holding hands. ‘Look at my brother,’ Chuck murmured to Eddie. ‘He’s so happy.’

‘She’s a beautiful girl.’

They held the doors open and the Dewars climbed into the back of the limousine. Woody and Joanne folded down the jump seats. Chuck pulled away and headed for the naval base.

It was a fine morning. On the car radio, station KGMB was playing hymns. The sun shone over the lagoon and glinted off the glass portholes and polished brass rails of a hundred ships. Chuck said: ‘Isn’t that a pretty sight?’

They entered the base and drove to the Navy Yard, where a dozen ships were in floating docks and dry docks for repair, maintenance and refuelling. Chuck pulled up at the Officers Landing. They all got out and looked across the lagoon at the mighty battleships standing proud in the morning light. Woody took a photo.

It was a few minutes before eight o’clock. Chuck could hear the tolling of church bells in nearby Pearl City. On the ships, the forenoon watch was being piped to breakfast, and colour parties were assembling to hoist ensigns at eight precisely. A band on the deck of the Nevada was playing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’.

They walked to the jetty, where a launch was tied up ready for them. The boat was big enough to take a dozen passengers and had an inboard motor under a hatch in the stern. Eddie started the engine while Chuck handed the guests into the boat. The small motor burbled cheerfully. Chuck stood in the bows while Eddie eased the launch away from the dockside and turned towards the battleships. The prow lifted as the launch picked up speed, throwing off twin curves of foam like a seagull’s wings.

Chuck heard a plane and looked up. It was coming in from the west, so low it looked as if it might be in danger of crashing. He assumed it was about to land at the naval airstrip on Ford Island.

Woody, sitting near Chuck in the bows, frowned and said: ‘What kind of plane is that?’

Chuck knew every aircraft of both the army and the navy, but he had trouble identifying this one. ‘It almost looks like a Type Ninety-seven,’ he said. That was the carrier-based torpedo bomber of the Imperial Japanese Navy.

Woody pointed his camera.

As the plane came nearer, Chuck saw large red suns painted on its wings. ‘It is a Jap plane!’ he said.

Eddie, steering the boat from the stern, heard him. ‘They must have faked it up for an exercise,’ he said. ‘A surprise drill to spoil everyone’s Sunday morning.’

‘I guess so,’ said Chuck.

Then he saw a second plane behind the first.

And another.

He heard his father say anxiously: ‘What the heck is going on?’

The planes banked over the Navy Yard and passed low over the launch, their noise rising to a roar like Niagara Falls. There were about ten of them, Chuck saw; no, twenty; no, more.

They headed straight for Battleship Row.

Woody stopped taking pictures to say: ‘It can’t be a real attack, can it?’ There was fear as well as doubt in his voice.

‘How could they be Japanese?’ Chuck said incredulously. ‘Japan is nearly four thousand miles away! No plane can fly that far.’

Then he remembered that the aircraft carriers of the Japanese navy had gone into radio silence. The signal intelligence unit had assumed they were in home waters, but had never been able to confirm that.

He caught his father’s eye, and guessed he was remembering the same conversation.

Everything suddenly became clear, and incredulity turned to fear.

The lead plane flew low over the Nevada, the stern marker in Battleship Row. There was a burst of cannon fire. On deck, seamen scattered and the band left off in a ragged diminuendo of abandoned notes.

In the launch, Rosa screamed.

Eddie said: ‘Christ Jesus in heaven, it’s an attack.’

Chuck’s heart pounded. The Japanese were bombing Pearl Harbor, and he was in a small boat in the middle of the lagoon. He looked at the scared faces of the others – both parents, his brother, and Eddie – and realized that all the people he loved were in the boat with him.

Long bullet-shaped torpedoes began to fall from the underbellies of the planes and splash into the tranquil waters of the lagoon.

Chuck yelled: ‘Turn back, Eddie!’ But Eddie was already doing it, swinging the launch around in a tight arc.

As it turned, Chuck saw, over Hickam air base, another flight of aircraft with the big red discs on their wings. These were dive bombers, and they were streaming down like birds of prey on the rows of American aircraft perfectly lined up on the runways.

How the hell many of the bastards were there? Half the Japanese air force seemed to be in the sky over Pearl.

Woody was still taking pictures.

Chuck heard a deep bang like an underground explosion, then another immediately after. He spun around. There was a flash of flame aboard the Arizona, and smoke began to rise from her.

The stern of the launch squatted farther into the water as Eddie opened the throttle. Chuck said unnecessarily: ‘Hurry, hurry!’

From one of the ships Chuck heard the insistent rhythmic hoot of a klaxon sounding General Quarters, calling the crew to battle stations, and he realized that this was a battle, and his family was in the middle of it. A moment later on Ford Island the air-raid siren began with a low moan and wailed higher in pitch until it struck its frantic top note.

There was a long series of explosions from Battleship Row as torpedoes found their targets. Eddie yelled: ‘Look at the Wee Vee!’ It was what they called the West Virginia. ‘She’s listing to port!’

He was right, Chuck saw. The ship had been holed on the side nearest the attacking planes. Millions of tons of water must have poured into her in a few seconds to make such a huge vessel tilt sideways.

Next to her, the same fate was overtaking the Oklahoma, and to his horror Chuck could see sailors slipping helplessly, sliding across the tilted deck and falling over the side into the water.

Waves from the explosions rocked the launch. Everyone clung to the sides.

Chuck saw bombs rain down on the seaplane base at the near end of Ford Island. The planes were moored close together, and the fragile aircraft were blown to pieces, fragments of wings and fuselages flying into the air like leaves in a hurricane.

Chuck’s intelligence-trained mind was trying to identify aircraft types, and now he spotted a third model among the Japanese attackers, the deadly Mitsubishi ‘Zero’, the best carrier-based fighter in the world. It had only two small bombs, but was armed with twin machine guns and a pair of 20mm cannon. Its role in this attack must be to escort the bombers, defending them from American fighters – but all the American fighters were still on the ground, where many of them had already been destroyed. That left the Zeroes free to strafe buildings, equipment and troops.

Or, Chuck thought fearfully, to strafe a family crossing the lagoon, desperately trying to get to shore.

At last the United States began to shoot back. On Ford Island, and on the decks of the ships that had not yet been hit, anti-aircraft guns and regular machine guns came to life, adding their rattle to the cacophony of lethal noise. Anti-aircraft shells burst in the sky like black flowers blossoming. Almost immediately, a machine-gunner on the island scored a direct hit on a dive-bomber. The cockpit burst into flames and the plane hit the water with a mighty splash. Chuck found himself cheering savagely, shaking his fists in the air.

The listing West Virginia began to return to the vertical, but continued to sink, and Chuck realized that the commander must have opened the starboard seacocks, to ensure that she remained upright while she went down, giving the crew a better chance of survival. But the Oklahoma was not so fortunate, and they all watched in terrified awe as the great ship began to turn over. Joanne said: ‘Oh, God, look at the crew.’ The sailors were frantically scrambling up the steeply banked deck and over the starboard rail in a desperate attempt to save themselves. But they were the lucky ones, Chuck realized, as at last the mighty vessel turned turtle with a terrible crash and began to sink, for how many hundreds of men were trapped below decks?

‘Hold on, everyone!’ Chuck yelled. A huge wave created by the capsize of the Oklahoma was approaching. Papa grabbed Mama and Woody held on to Joanne. The wave reached them and lifted the launch impossibly high. Chuck staggered but kept hold of the rail. The launch stayed afloat. Smaller waves followed, rocking them, but everyone was safe.

They were still a long quarter of a mile offshore, Chuck saw with consternation.

Astonishingly the Nevada, which had been strafed at the start, began to move off. Someone must have had the presence of mind to signal all ships to sail. If they could get out of the harbour they could scatter and present less easy targets.

Then from Battleship Row came a bang ten times bigger than anything that had gone before. The explosion was so violent that Chuck felt the blast like a blow to his chest, though he was now almost half a mile away. A spurt of flame spewed out of the No. 2 gun turret of the Arizona. A split-second later the forward half of the ship seemed to burst. Debris flew into the air, twisted steel girders and warped plates drifting up through the smoke with a nightmare slowness, like scraps of charred paper from a bonfire. Flames and smoke enveloped the front of the ship. The lofty mast tipped forward drunkenly.

Woody said: ‘What was that?’

‘The ship’s ammunition store must have gone up,’ Chuck said, and he realized with heartfelt grief that hundreds of his fellow seamen must have been killed in that mammoth detonation.

A column of dark-red smoke rose into the air as from a funeral pyre.

There was a crash and the boat lurched as something hit it. Everyone ducked. Falling to his knees, Chuck thought it must be a bomb, then realized it could not be, for he was still alive. When he recovered, he saw that a heavy scrap of metal debris a yard long had pierced the deck over the engine. It was a miracle it had not hit anyone.

However, the engine died.

The boat slowed and was becalmed. It wallowed in the choppy waves while Japanese planes rained hell fire on the lagoon.

Gus said tightly: ‘Chuck, we have to get out of here right now.’

‘I know.’ Chuck and Eddie examined the damage. They grabbed the metal scrap and tried to wrestle it out of the teak deck, but it was firmly stuck.

‘We don’t have time for this!’ Gus said.

Woody said: ‘The engine is blitzed anyway, Chuck.’

They were still a quarter of a mile from shore. However, the launch was equipped for an emergency such as this. Chuck unshipped a pair of oars. He took one and Eddie took the other. The boat was large, for rowing, and their progress was slow.

Luckily for them there was a lull in the attack. The sky was no longer swarming with planes. Vast billows of smoke rose from the damaged ships, including a column a thousand feet high from the fatally wounded Arizona, but there were no new explosions. The amazingly plucky Nevada was now heading for the mouth of the harbour.

The water around the ships was crowded with life rafts, motor launches, and seamen swimming or clinging to floating wreckage. Drowning was not their only fear: oil from the holed ships had spread across the surface and caught fire. The cries for help of those who could not swim mingled horrifyingly with the screams of the burned.

Chuck stole a glance at his watch. He thought the attack had been going on for hours but, amazingly, it was only thirty minutes.

Just as he was thinking that, the second wave began.

This time the planes came from the east. Some of them chased the escaping Nevada; others targeted the Navy Yard where the Dewars had boarded the launch. Almost immediately the destroyer Shaw in a floating dock exploded with great gouts of flame and billows of smoke. Oil spread across the water and caught fire. Then in the largest dry dock the battleship Pennsylvania was hit. Two destroyers in the same dry dock blew up as their ammunition stores were ignited.

Chuck and Eddie strained at the oars, sweating like racehorses.

At the Navy Yard, Marines appeared – presumably from the nearby barracks – and broke out firefighting gear.

At last the launch reached the Officers’ Landing. Chuck leaped out and swiftly tied up while Eddie helped the passengers out. They all ran to the car.

Chuck jumped into the driving seat and started the engine. The car radio came on automatically, and he heard the KGMB announcer say: ‘All Army, Navy and Marine personnel report for duty immediately.’ Chuck had not had a chance to report to anyone, but he felt sure that his orders would be first to ensure the safety of the four civilians in his care, especially as two were women and one was a senator.

As soon as everyone was in the car he pulled away.

The second wave of the attack seemed to be ending. Most of the Japanese planes were heading away from the harbour. All the same, Chuck drove fast: there might be a third wave.

The main gate was open. If it had been shut he would have been tempted to crash it.

There was no other traffic.

He raced away from the harbour along Kamehameha Highway. The farther he got from Pearl Harbor, the safer his family would be, he figured.

Then he saw a lone Zero coming towards him.

It was flying low and following the highway, and after a moment he realized it was targeting the car.

The cannon were in the wings, and there was a good chance they would miss the narrow target of the car; but the machine guns were set close together, either side of the engine cowling. That was what the pilot would use if he was smart.

Chuck looked frantically at both sides of the road. There was no hiding place, nothing but cane fields.

He began to zigzag. The approaching pilot sensibly did not attempt to track him. The road was not wide, and if Chuck drove into the cane field the car would be slowed to a walking pace. He stepped on the gas, realizing that the faster he was going the better his chances of not being hit.

Then it was too late for forethought. The plane was so close Chuck could see the round black holes in the wings through which the cannon fired. But, as he had guessed, the pilot opened up with machine guns, and bullets spat dust from the road ahead.

Chuck moved left, to the crown of the road, then instead of continuing left he swerved right. The pilot corrected. Bullets hit the hood. The windscreen smashed. Eddie roared with pain, and in the back one of the women screamed.

Then the Zero was gone.

The car began to zigzag of its own accord. A forward wheel must have been damaged. Chuck fought with the steering wheel, trying to stay on the road. The car slewed sideways, skidded across the tarmac, crashed into the field at the side of the road, and bumped to a stop.

Flames rose from the engine, and Chuck smelled gasoline.

‘Everybody out!’ Chuck yelled. ‘Before the fuel tank blows!’ He opened his door and leaped out. He yanked open the rear door and his father jumped out, pulling his mother along. Chuck could see the others getting out on the far side. ‘Run!’ he shouted, but it was superfluous. Eddie was already heading into the cane field, limping as though wounded. Woody was half pulling, half carrying Joanne, who also seemed to have been hit. His parents charged into the field, apparently unhurt. He joined them. They all ran a hundred yards then threw themselves flat.

There was a moment of stillness. The sounds of planes had become a distant buzz. Glancing up, Chuck saw oily smoke from the harbour rising thousands of feet into the air. Above that, the last few high-level bombers were heading away to the north.

Then there was a bang that stunned his eardrums. Even with closed eyes he saw the bright flash of exploding gasoline. A wave of heat passed over him.

He lifted his head and looked back. The car was ablaze.

He jumped to his feet. ‘Mama! Are you okay?’

‘Miraculously unhurt,’ she said coolly as his father helped her up.

He scanned the field and spotted the others. He ran to Eddie, who was sitting upright, clutching his thigh. ‘Are you hit?’

‘Hurts like fuck,’ Eddie said. ‘But there’s not much blood.’ He managed a grin. ‘Top of my thigh, I think, but no vital organs damaged.’

‘We’ll get you to hospital.’

At that moment Chuck heard a terrible noise.

His brother was crying.

Woody was weeping not like a baby but like a lost child: a loud, sobbing noise of utter wretchedness.

Chuck knew immediately that it was the sound of a broken heart.

He ran to his brother. Woody was on his knees, his chest shaking, his mouth open, his eyes running with tears. There was blood all over his white linen suit, but he was not wounded. Between sobs he moaned: ‘No, no.’

Joanne lay on the ground in front of him, face up.

Chuck could see right away that she was dead. Her body was still and her eyes were open, staring at nothing. The front of her gaily striped cotton dress was soaked with bright red arterial blood, already darkening in patches. Chuck could not see the wound but he guessed she had taken a bullet to the shoulder that had opened her axillary artery. She would have bled to death in minutes.

He did not know what to say.

The others came and stood by him: Mama, Papa, and Eddie. Mama knelt on the ground beside Woody and put her arms around him. ‘My poor boy,’ she said, as if he was a child.

Eddie put his arm around Chuck’s shoulders and gave him a discreet hug.

Papa knelt by the body. He reached out and took Woody’s hand.

Woody’s sobs quieted a little.

Papa said: ‘Close her eyes, Woody.’

Woody’s hand was shaking. With an effort, he steadied it.

He stretched out his fingertips to her eyelids.

Then, with infinite gentleness, he closed her eyes.