mac.thepearlharbormurders-第25章

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　were　following；　as　well。　Japanese　planes　pounced　on　the　sitting　ducks；　dropping　bombs；　unleashing　cannon　fire　and　machine…gun　blasts；　chewing　up　the　rows　of　parked　fighters；　fuel　tanks　igniting；　leaving　the　hangars；　enlisted　men's　barracks　and　PX　in　flames。
　Dive…bombers　swooped　so　low；　inflicting　their　damage；　that　phone　lines　got　snagged；　and　men　on　the　ground　could　see　the　gold　teeth　in　the　grins　of　Jap　pilots　as　they　flashed　by。　No　time　to　fight　back；　unarmed　airmen　died　in　their　beds；　or　running　for　their　planes；　or　for　safety；　though　the　base　had　no　air…raid　shelters。　Their　ammunition…locked　away　to　keep　local　saboteurs　from　getting　it；　courtesy　of　General　Short…　was　out　of　reach；　stored　in　one　of　the　burning　hangars；　bullets　popping　like　popcorn　in　the　conflagration。
　Then　the　planes　soared　away；　leaving　thirty…nine　men　dead；　and　many　more　wounded。
　Just　north　of　Wheeler；　at　the　suburban　sprawl　that　was　Schofield　Barracks；　sounds　resembling　explosions　roused　the　interest　of　soldiers；　who…upon　glancing　outside　the　mess　hall…saw　a　plane　with　a　black　canopy　and　fuselage　marked　with　a　red　spot；　circling　the　roof　of　the　building　housing　HQ。　Breakfast　trays　in　hand；　several　soldiers　were　arguing　over　whether　this　was　a　Jap　plane　or　some　strange　Navy　craft；　when　buglers　trumpeted　an　alert。　The　men　tossed　their　trays　and　ran　from　the　mess　hall　into　the　quadrangle；　others　sought　out　rifles；　and　two　artillerymen　ran　to　the　rooftop　and　fired　at　planes　with　Browning　Automatic　Rifles；　emptying　clips　at　the　dive…bombers。
　One　of　the　Jap　planes　crashed。
　Cheers　went　up。
　Then　a　new　topic　of　conversation　took　over　among　the　frightened　young　soldiers：　how　much　would　it　hurt　to　be　shot　by　a　Jap　bullet？　Was　it　true　the　Nips　only　used　。25　caliber　ammo？
　Admiral　Kimmel　had　gotten　up　early　on　this　fine　Sunday　morning；　every　other　weekend；　he　would　meet　with　General　Short　for　eighteen　holes　of　golf。　Today；　Lieutenant　Colonel　Throckmorton　and　Colonel　Fielder　would　be　joining　them。
　He'd　recently　moved　into　this　house　at　Makalapa　Heights；　about　five　minutes　from　HQ；　and　the　place　was　underfurnished…severely　lacking　the　touch　his　wife　would　have　brought　to　it。　On　days　off　like　this；　he　missed　her　dearly；　but　most　of　his　time　was　so　filled　with　work；　he　scarcely　remembered　he　had　any　private　life。
　This　week　had　been　filled　with　protracted　discussions　over　whether　the　fleet　should　be　kept　in　Pearl　Harbor　or　sent　to　sea；　and　now　this　business　was　looming　of　the　supposed　espionage　activities　that　Adam　Sterling…a　good　man；　if　overeager…and　the　ever…imaginative　Ed　Burroughs　had　brought　to　his　attention　last　night。
　He　was　still　in　his　pajamas；　and　hadn't　even　shaved　yet；　when　mander　Murphy；　duty　officer　at　HQ；　called　to　say　the　Ward　had　ash…canned　a　sub　near　the　harbor。
　〃Sorry　to　bother　you　on　Sunday　morning；　sir；〃　Murphy　said。
　Kimmel　realized　this　was　probably　just　another　false　alarm…incorrect　reports　of　subs　in　the　outlying　area　were　mon。
　But　he　said；　〃You　acted　correctly；　mander…　all　submerged　sub　contacts　must　be　regarded　as　hostile。。。。I'll　be　right　down。〃
　Around　five　minutes　later；　freshly　shaved　and　just　getting　into　uniform；　Kimmel　again　answered　the　phone　and　once　more　it　was　Murphy。
　But　this　time　the　businesslike　mander's　voice　was　strangely　shrill：　〃Sir；　we　have　a　message　from　the　signal　tower　saying　the　Japanese　are　attacking　Pearl　Harbor…and　this　is　no　drill！〃
　Kimmel　slammed　the　phone　down　and　ran　outside；　onto　the　front　lawn；　into　the　garden　which　overlooked　the　base；　buttoning　his　white　uniform　jacket　as　he　went。
　The　sky　was　filled　with　the　enemy…the　Rising　Sun　on　their　wings。　He　knew　at　once　this　was　no　casual　raid；　by　a　few　stray　planes。
　
　〃Unbelievable；〃　he　murmured。
　Aghast；　he　stood　frozen　among　the　flowers…poin…settias　and　hibiscus　in　bloom…watching　Jap　aircraft　swoop　down　on　the　base；　circling　in　figure　eights；　dropping　bombs；　turning　and　dropping　more；　machineguns　chattering。　Explosions　rocked　the　sky…and　ships；　fires　already　burning　fiercely　on　their　decks。　〃Impossible；〃　he　whispered。
　Four　miles　west　of　Pearl　Harbor；　the　Ewa　Marine　Corps　Air　Station　was　hit　by　two　squadrons　of　silver　planes　bisecting　the　field　at　two　hundred　mph；　fishtailing　to　better　lash　their　bullets　into　broad　patterns。
　Of　the　base's　forty…nine　fighters　and　scout　planes；　thirty　were　decimated　on　the　ground。
　Four　blocks　from　Beretania　Street；　the　black　Ford　managed　to　crawl　through　the　traffic　jam　and　make　it　across　Kuakini　Street；　bordering　Pauoa　Park；　where　on　the　left…hand　corner　squatted　the　two…story　concrete　pound　of　the　Japanese　Consulate。
　Sterling　pulled　up　in　front；　into　the　no…parking　zone；　and　Burroughs　and　his　son　hopped　out；　following　the　FBI　agent　up　the　stairs；　where…oddly…Consul　General　Nagao　Kita　stood　halfway　down。。。　in　his　dark　blue　silk　pajamas。
　Burroughs　had　met　the　usually　affable　Kita　before；　socially；　as　had　Sterling…the　consul　general　was　short；　plump；　with　dark　thick　hair；　and　a　broad；　bushy…browed　face　that；　with　its　flattened　pug　nose；　gave　him　the　appearance　of　a　cheerful　ex…prizefighter。
　〃Good　morning；　gentlemen；〃　Kita　said；　arms　folded；　smiling　like　a　friendly　genie。
　〃Don't　you　know　there's　a　war　on？〃　Sterling　demanded。
　Kita　shrugged。　〃This　is　just　another　American　exercise…an　elaborate　one；　I　admit。〃
　〃Take　a　look　at　the　color　of　that　smoke；〃　Sterling　said；　nodding　toward　the　sky。　〃It's　black；　not　white…　fuel　oil。　Your　planes　are　bombing　Pearl　Harbor。〃
　〃Nonsense。〃
　〃I'm　going　to　have　to　take　you　in　custody；　Mr。　Kita。　We're　at　war；　and　I　have　evidence　of　espionage　on　the　part　of　your　vice　consul。〃
　The　smile　disappeared　into　an　impassive　mask。　〃I'm　a　diplomat；　Mr。　Sterling。　Even　if　we　are　at　war…I　have　certain　rights。〃
　〃You　have　no　rights…American　boys　are　dying　right　now　in　this　vicious　underhanded　attack。　Where　is　your　vice　consul？　Where　is　Yoshikawa？〃
　Kita's　eyes　tightened。　〃I　know　no　one　by　that　name。〃
　〃I'll　settle　for　Morimura；　then。〃
　A　siren　screamed　and　tires　squealed　as　a　police　car　came　to　a　halt　next　to　the　black　Ford。　Three　uniformed　police　officers…two　Hawaiians　and　a　Chinese…　jumped　out；　shotguns　in　hand；　and　so　did　a　plainclothes　officer。。。　Detective　John　Jardine；　a　。45　automatic　in　his　fist。
　Jardine　took　the　steps　two　at　a　time　and　joined　the　little　discussion　group；　nodding　to　Burroughs　and　Hully；　then　saying　to　Sterling　and　Kita；　〃We're　putting　this　building　under　armed　guard。〃
　〃Why？〃　Kita　said；　his　impassive　face　finally　offering　up　a　frown。
　〃For　the　protection　of　the　consul　general；〃　the　Portuguese　detective　said；　〃and　the　members　of　your　staff。〃
　Kita　lifted　a　bushy　eyebrow。　〃And　if　I　don't　want　your　protection？〃
　Jardine's　wide　thin　mouth　made　a　faint　smile。　〃Well；　we　could　wait　an　hour　or　so；　for　a　nice　mob　to　build；　and　then　throw　your　ass　to　it。〃
　That　seemed　to　sober　Kita；　who　said；　〃Shall　we　step　inside？〃
　〃What　a　good　idea；〃　Jardine　said；　then　turned　to　the　FBI　man；　who　was　already　holding　open　the　door。　〃Agent　Sterling；　we　intend　to　fully　cooperate　with　your　office。　If　I　might　ask；　why　are　Mr。　Burroughs　and　his　son　with　you？〃
　〃I　had　to　press　them　into　service；〃　Sterling　said；　as　they　allowed　Kita　to　lead　the　way　into　the　vestibule。　〃I've　been　cut　off　from　my　office。〃
　〃Glad　to　have　your　help；〃　Jardine　said；　nodding　at　both　Burroughs　and　Hully。　〃But　why　do　I　have　the　feeling　we're　still　working　the　Pearl　Harada　murder　case？〃
　〃Help　us　find　Vice　Consul　'Morimura；'　〃　Burroughs　said；　〃and　you'll　find　out。〃
　A　guard　fence　separated　Pearl　Harbor　from　the　two　thousand　acres　of　Hickam　Field；　biggest　Army　base　on　Oahu；　home　of　the　Army's　bomber　squadrons。　Here；　a　quarter　mile　of　neatly　arranged　A…20s；　B…17s　and　B…18s　served　themselves　up　to　the　hungry　waves　of　silver　planes。　The　incessant　bombing　and　strafing…not　only　of　the　sitting…duck　aircraft　but　barracks；　support　facilities　and　hangars…did　not　dissuade　the　men　of　Hickam　from　working　fiercely　to　disperse　their　aircraft；　or　from　fighting　back。
　Two　Japanese…American　civilians…laborers　employed　at　the　field…helped　set　up　a　machine　gun　and　fed　it　with　ammo　belts　while　a　boy　from　Michigan　fired　away　at　the　diving　planes。
　Standing　near　a　hangar；　Corporal　Jack　Stanton…one　eye　slightly　swollen；　even　blackened；　from　his　Hotel　Street　brawl　of　the　night　before…saw　the　friend　standing　next　to　him　strafed　into　explosive　splashes　of　blood；　bone　and　flesh。　Horrified；　then　energized　into　action；　Stanton　ran　across　the　tarmac…not　even　pausing　when　another　bomb　blew　a　khaki…clad　soldier　in　two…and　managed　to　climb　up　into　a　bomber。
　Stanton　began　firing　the　machine　gun　in　the　nose　of　the　bomber；　its　deadly　chatter　knocking　one　of　the　silver　planes　out　of　the　sky。
　But　when　a　Zero　swooped　down；　delivering　its　own　machine…gun　fire；　the　fuel　tank　ignited　and　Stanton　was　trapped　in　the　cockpit；　flames　all　around　him；　caged　in　a　crackling　hell。
　Stanton　didn't　bother　trying　to　get　out。　As　the　flames　slowly　consumed　him；　he　kept　firing　up　at　the　sons　of　bitches；　and　witnesses　said　his　red　tracer　bullets　could　be　seen　zinging　skyward；　long　after　flames　had　enpassed　the　nose　of　the　plane。
　Winging　eastward　in　groups　of　three；　past　the　Pearl　Harbor　entry；　cutting　inland　at　an　altitude　of　a　mere　sixty　feet；　twenty…four　torpedo　planes　threw　their　supple　blue　shadows　across　the　Navy　Yard　and　the　Southeast　Loch；　closing　in　on　Battleship　Row…where　those　gray　behemoths；　the　Arizona；　California；　Maryland；　Nevada；　Oklahoma；　Tennessee；　and　West　Virginia；　pride　of　the　Navy；　slumbered　in　the　sunlight。　In　groups　of　two；　ing　from　the　west；　sixteen　more　torpedo　planes　took　a　direct　route　across　the　island；　their　targets　the　ships　docked　on　the　far　side　of　Ford　Island；　as　well　as　those　at　the　Navy　Yard　piers　over　the　east　channel。
　Aboard　the　battleships；　barely　awake　sailors　perceived　the　approaching　attack　planes　as　nothing　more　than　specks…but　those　specks　grew　ever　larger　as　they　zeroed　in　on　the　harbor；　crisscrossing。　Swabbies…like　civilians…at　first　dismissed　the　planes。。。　crazy　Army　pilots；　damn　Navy　fliers　showboating；　ain't　that　a　hell　of　a　drill。。。。
　〃That's　no　star　on　the　wing！〃　a　sailor　or　two；　on　every　ship；　would　finally　say；　more　or　less。　〃That's　a　red　ball！〃
　And　sailors；　scattering　like　naughty　kids　caught　in　some　act；　yelled；　〃It's　the　Japs！　It's　for　real！　It's　war！〃
　PA　systems　barked　orders；　bugles　blared；　ships'　alarms　trilled；　and　on　every　vessel　in　the　harbor…130　of　them…all　hell　broke　loose；　from　the　startled　sailors　on　deck　who　had　seen　the　planes　〃dropping　fish〃　（torpedoes）　to　the　poor　bastards　sleeping　in　on　Sunday　who　had　to　tumble　out　of　their　racks；　and　scurry　to　then…battle　stations；　pulling　on　their　clothes　as　they　went。
　Five　torpedoes；　in　rapid　succession；　blasted　the　Oklahoma；　sending　the　battleship　rolling　slowly；　inevitably　to　port。　Breakfast　dishes　went　flying；　shattering；　mess　tables　upended；　lockers　spilled　open；　and　in　the　belowdeck　barbettes；　massive　gun　turrets　tore　free　from　their　housings　and　tumbled　grindingly　down　the　slanting　platforms；　crushing　crewmen。
　When　eleven…year…old　Don　Morton…frightened　by　the　low…flying；　strafing　planes…came　scooting　back　home　without　his　brother　Jerry；　his　mom　wasn't　mad。　She　just　hustled　him　in