The Final Storm Part 12

Despite ongoing mop-up operations, the success in securing the Motobu Peninsula allowed General Buckner an opportunity to crow about a victory, and so crow he did. But the news that reached Nimitz was not all good. To the south the first two army divisions had been bolstered by their reserves, but all three were becoming bogged down against a far stronger j.a.panese effort. Though no one in the American command had been able to predict exactly what the j.a.panese strategy would be, it was increasingly apparent that General Us.h.i.+jima had positioned his greatest defensive strength in the south, along the line that ran from Shuri Castle westward to the Okinawan coast. General Buckner painted an optimistic portrait, but Nimitz was hearing something very different from the naval commanders, particularly Admiral Turner, whose s.h.i.+ps were bearing the brunt of the increasingly destructive kamikaze attacks. With the army's casualties mounting on land, and Turner's sailors beginning to absorb a horrifying pounding offsh.o.r.e, Nimitz could no longer accept Buckner's a.s.surances that everything was going according to Buckner's planning. With obvious friction growing between army and navy commanders, Nimitz knew the time had come to see the situation for himself. He would go to Okinawa.

The kamikaze attacks had come continuously, though some were small in scale, sometimes a single aircraft. But it had become clear that there was a method to the j.a.panese tactics. Every seven to eight days now the attacks were launched toward the American fleet in a ma.s.sive wave, hundreds of aircraft of every imaginable type ramming their way through the American defenses. The destruction was becoming astonis.h.i.+ng, both on board the s.h.i.+ps and to the j.a.panese pilots, almost none of whom survived. Throughout the war, naval casualties had been comparably light, even during the most brutal battles in the Coral Sea and at Leyte Gulf. But now the navy was absorbing losses they had never experienced, and though the most prized targets, the battles.h.i.+ps and carriers, had taken some hits, it was the smaller escort and supply s.h.i.+ps that were receiving the worst punishment. Dozens of American s.h.i.+ps were being sent to the bottom, along with far too many crewmen. The losses were doubly horrifying because they had been so unexpected, and yet the Americans continued to be baffled by j.a.panese logic. If Tokyo had any expectation that their planes would either destroy the American fleet or drive them away from Okinawa, the tactics being used seemed gruesomely absurd. Radar and lookout stations monitored the incoming waves of j.a.panese planes, allowing gunners on board the American s.h.i.+ps to prepare for the onslaught. The carrier aircraft could combat the incoming j.a.panese waves before the kamikaze pilots could even see their targets. With j.a.panese losses in aircraft numbering in the hundreds, the Americans had to wonder just how much more of this kind of attack the j.a.panese could mount. The loss in pilots alone had to mean that the planes were being flown by men with minimal training, whose sole mission was to end their lives by a desperate gamble that Americans would die in the process. The number of aircraft the j.a.panese were losing added to the mystery. How many more planes could the j.a.panese air force sacrifice before they simply ran out?

COMMAND POST, TENTH ARMY, OKINAWA.

APRIL 23, 1945.

He climbed from the jeep, returned the salutes, waited as Vandegrift slid out the other side. The Marines who stood guard seemed to recognize their highest-ranking commander, most of them showing a little more starch in their salutes toward Vandegrift, a little more enthusiasm than they had for Nimitz. Nimitz smiled to himself, had no objections to that at all. Vandegrift had just received his fourth star, the first Marine general to ever reach that rank.

In an active war zone, a gathering of high-ranking commanders usually did little more than annoy the men on the ground who were trying to do their jobs. Nimitz had suggested to Vandegrift that the Marine Corps commander spend more of his time visiting his battle-weary divisions, the Fourth in particular, who had been badly mauled at Iwo Jima. Vandegrift had obliged him with a barely disguised anger, the general expecting to be allowed free rein over his units no matter where they might be stationed. After several days with the Fourth in Hawaii, Vandegrift had visited the exhausted Third Division, which held station on the newly secured Iwo Jima. By the time the Marine commander returned to Nimitz's headquarters on Guam, Nimitz could see that the exposure to the tattered remains of two of his best divisions had worn a hole in Vandegrift's patience. Nimitz realized that, annoyance or not, if Nimitz was going to Okinawa, he had no right to prevent Vandegrift from accompanying him. To Vandegrift's obvious delight, Nimitz had conceded that there was probably no one in the entire Pacific theater who had earned a greater right to visit his troops, no matter where they might be.

Alexander Vandegrift was two years Nimitz's junior, bore himself with that distinctive straight-backed demeanor that Nimitz always respected. He was a Virginian, the descendant of a survivor of Pickett's Charge, and surprised no one by his desire to pursue a military career. But the number of influential Virginians who pushed for appointments to the military academies had left Vandegrift behind, and instead he began his own path by attending the Virginia Military Inst.i.tute. Rather than the army, Vandegrift chose the Marine Corps, serving in the First Division. At Guadalca.n.a.l in 1942, Vandegrift commanded that division, and his heroics there caught the attention of Admiral King in Was.h.i.+ngton. In a short time, Vandegrift's star rose considerably, and by early 1945 he had become commandant of the Marine Corps. But office politics and a fat desk had not tamed the man known by his officers as "Sunny Jim." On the long flight to Okinawa, Nimitz had already chastised himself repeatedly for ever a.s.suming Vandegrift would be a pain to anybody.

Across the open ground, Nimitz could see tents and hastily built metal and wood huts, scattered through a smattering of low-slung palm trees. Anti-aircraft guns ringed the entire compound, the gunners closest to him curious, mostly with their eyes on Vandegrift.

Nimitz had seen the same kinds of faces on board the USS New Mexico the night before, where he had dined with Fleet Admiral Spruance. The gunners on board the great battles.h.i.+p were nervous, angry men, who focused much more of their attention on the skies than on a parade of bra.s.s who strode along their decks. It had surprised Nimitz that little effort had been made on the battles.h.i.+p to hide the stacks of cots, other than to shove them into any nook where they wouldn't be in the way. It was a clear sign that most of the sailors were using the open deck for sleeping. Even on those days when the rains came, the extraordinary heat prevented anyone from sleeping in the stifling misery of their quarters belowdecks. Nimitz focused now on the faces closest to him, as he had on the s.h.i.+p. He saw the same faces he had seen at sea, fatigued, sad eyes, men going about their jobs with automatic movements, no joking, no laughter. Low morale was as obvious here on the island as it had been on the s.h.i.+p. It was not a surprise. Nimitz knew that the loss of President Roosevelt had certainly cast a heavy dose of gloom among the troops everywhere, but then, there had been one more dreadful surprise, news of a completely unexpected tragedy. Nimitz received the word, as had every commander in the theater, that on April 18 newspaper columnist Ernie Pyle had been killed while accompanying a patrol of the Seventy-seventh Infantry Division on one of the smaller islands offsh.o.r.e. Nimitz knew that the president's death would have a far more profound effect on the conduct of the war. But the loss of Ernie Pyle would have a devastating effect on the men in the ranks. Of all the reporters who had accompanied the troops in all theaters of the war, Pyle was by far the most beloved. From North Africa to Europe and now to the Pacific, the columns Pyle sent back home had humanized the troops by telling their stories directly, experiences comical, absurd, and tragic. He gave the troops their own voice, when most other reporters were far more interested in snuggling up to the bra.s.s. By naming them and offering a nod to their hometowns, Pyle had sent a rea.s.suring hand back to relatives who might otherwise never know of the fate of their own, since mail service took far longer than Pyle's own dispatches. Everywhere he went, Pyle obliged as many of the troops as he could, moving among the men with his trademark typewriter slung over his shoulder, offering good cheer and an eagerness to listen that the average GI had found nowhere else.

Nimitz still returned the stares, hard, cold eyes, thought, that's what this is. So many of these men are veterans, have seen these islands come and go, have faced a viciousness in the j.a.panese that none of us expected. They're losing friends in every fight, and Ernie Pyle made himself a friend to every one of these men. d.a.m.n it all, I want this fight to end.

"Ah, Admiral, welcome! Sorry, I was just dealing with a ... radio matter. Messages coming in from offsh.o.r.e. Admiral Turner is checking on you, making sure your party arrived safely. I don't hear much from him, you know. Prefer it that way. Not that he's a pest or anything. It's just that ... well, his communications can be ... well ..."

Buckner was digging himself into a hole, and Nimitz held up both hands, said, "I understand, General. No need for explanations."

"Ah, General Vandegrift, welcome! Congratulations are in order. Welcome to the thin air at the top, if I do say. Please, I may not be the first, but I'll shake your hand, if you'll allow it."

"Thank you, General. I'm at your service."

The pleasantries were already strained, Nimitz wanting to move into whatever pa.s.sed for Buckner's headquarters, Buckner's obvious cheerfulness a poor mask for his anxiety that Nimitz had come to Okinawa in the first place. Buckner was a huge bear of a man, roughly Nimitz's age, a shock of white hair over deep blue eyes. Buckner was more fanatical about physical fitness than Nimitz was, something Nimitz admired. But there were extremes to Buckner's devotion to the conditioning of his men. It was one of the major gripes that came from the men who served him, that the general had put even the older officers through so much rigorous exercise that throughout the Tenth Army the senior command suffered from constant physical injuries. Nimitz had heard that some of the meetings resembled hospital wards, generals with various joints wrapped in gauze or hard casts.

He followed Buckner, glanced at the stiff-backed MPs who stood guard, grim-faced men who reminded Nimitz of his own Marine guard on Guam. He turned over the name in his head, Turner, the admiral who now held overall command around the Okinawan operation. Turner had remained on board his own command s.h.i.+p, the USS Eldorado, and had seemed relieved that Nimitz had not asked him to come along. There were other reasons why Nimitz was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the man he had chosen to oversee Buckner's Tenth Army and the fleet anch.o.r.ed offsh.o.r.e.

It had been a particular thorn in Nimitz's side, the scuttleb.u.t.t that Admiral Turner couldn't stay away from the bottle. But his performance in the fights for Saipan and Guam had been outstanding, and Nimitz knew that performance mattered more than a man's personal habits. But worse for Nimitz, Turner was physically opposite from the lean, hard commanders that Nimitz tried to keep in his command. Turner had a soft paunch, a belly that spread out well over his belt line. It made Nimitz wince to think about that, a violation of Nimitz's philosophy that officers should be as lean as their men. That's worse than the booze, he thought, and he should know that. I can't dictate orders about being a slob, when a man comes by it naturally. The drinking ... well, if I see it's really affecting his performance out here, I'll have to do something. No doubt about it.

Richmond Kelly Turner had been chosen by Nimitz himself to command the overall a.s.sault on Okinawa, a decision that even now Nimitz believed had been a good one. There had been failures though, hard grumbling from the Marines that Turner had refused to sh.e.l.l the landing zones at Iwo Jima, causing casualties to the Marines that could have been avoided. That kind of accusation was speculative at best, no one really knowing how much of the j.a.panese resistance would have been obliterated by naval fire. And Nimitz knew that the others who could have been chosen for the job, men like Bull Halsey, who gathered more headlines than Turner, had their failures as well. No matter whom he had picked for the job, there would be bellyaching. The only problem for Turner would be if Nimitz developed a bellyache of his own.

Nimitz had already briefed the few members of his staff who had come along, some of those remaining on board the Eldorado with Turner. Nimitz had confidence that each of those men understood his role, would purposely engage in casual chitchat with the Eldorado's junior officers that might reveal more to Nimitz than what was said in the official meetings.

"Sir, if you please ..."

Nimitz obliged Buckner, stepped through the doorway of a low concrete block building. Buckner led the way again, past a makes.h.i.+ft office, an aide rising to quick attention, two more standing at their desks, typewriters stuffed with paper. To one side he heard the commotion of a radio room, and Nimitz glanced that way, saw a row of men with earphones, could hear the clatter of a teletype machine. This has got to be for show, he thought. He sure as h.e.l.l doesn't keep his quarters here, and I bet there are more comfortable places for us to meet. But I'll give him slack. Pretty d.a.m.n sure he just wants us the h.e.l.l out of the way.

He followed Buckner into a white-walled room, saw a narrow rectangular table, a half-dozen chairs, one large map on the wall. Buckner gave way and Nimitz sat at the head of the table, Vandegrift on the far end, Buckner now between them. Nimitz caught the unmistakable odor of hot food, and Buckner seemed to wait for that, said, "Once again my cook has outdone himself! We found a few locals who were kind enough to offer us baskets of fresh vegetables, sweet potatoes, and a rather nice string bean. My cook has a way with the vegetables that you should find appealing. The fresh fish is a wonder. The Okinawans certainly don't want for good food. I can have them serve lunch in here, or we can adjourn outside and enjoy the air."

The cheer in Buckner's voice was offset by the counterfeit smile of a man who knew his superior wasn't there for anything appealing. Nimitz stared at the map, thought, adjourn? Why don't we begin first.

"Is this map up-to-date?"

"Absolutely, sir."

His eyes stayed on the southern half of the island, pins marking the army units that Nimitz knew were bogged down against the j.a.panese defenses. He avoided looking at Buckner, said, "Tough nut. We knew it could be this way. All that d.a.m.n optimism after the landing, like we'd beaten the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds without a fight."

"Yes, sir. We were rather surprised by that. So, how soon would you like lunch?"

"It can wait."

Vandegrift stayed silent, conceding the floor to Nimitz, but Buckner seemed to concede nothing, shook his head, an indiscreet show of disappointment.

"Well, then, perhaps later. Oh, I wanted to say ... awful shame about Ernie Pyle. Some d.a.m.n fool colonel, out joyriding, and I suppose Pyle went along to see the sights. Ran slam into a j.a.p machine gun nest, or sniper. Something. Well, I a.s.sume you got the report."

Nimitz turned back toward Buckner, nodded.

"Saw it. I met him a few times. Decent man, I think. The boys will miss h.e.l.l out of him."

"His death will give 'em a spark, that's what I say. Fire 'em up, kill h.e.l.l out of the j.a.ps."

Nimitz tried to avoid looking at Buckner's beaming smile.

"We shouldn't need that kind of spark. Civilians shouldn't be out here at all. Everybody cut Pyle more slack than usual because he was so popular with the men, and Pyle did his part. But I don't need to hear details about some line officer hauling Pyle's a.s.s into a hot spot. Pyle knew he was taking risks, and he paid the price. Could happen to any of us. It's the risk we all take. If you don't mind, General, can we get this briefing under way?"

Buckner seemed to flinch and Nimitz thought, dammit, no reason to ream him out. Not yet anyway. You're just p.i.s.sed at everybody. Long trip, and it's been a c.r.a.ppy couple of weeks all around. After a short pause, Nimitz said, "We may have more problems back home than you'll hear about out here, at least for a while." He paused. "I was in Was.h.i.+ngton, you know, early last month. My daughter got married. Saw the president while I was there. He didn't look good, not at all. But I'd been hearing for more than a year that he was in rough shape. Didn't give it much thought. Now ... he's gone. Just like that. Hard to swallow. d.a.m.n hard. There have been enough p.i.s.sing matches in Was.h.i.+ngton between the War Department and ... well, everybody. This won't help. Forrestal will probably go. I imagine the new president will want his own navy secretary. He won't touch King, pretty sure of that. King's got too much dirt on everybody else, and he'll kick down doors before he lets some wet-behind-the-ears president tell him anything. Marshall is bound to stay as well, Hap Arnold too. Truman can't possibly be stupid enough to clean house of the experienced chiefs of staff." He paused. "Truman."

He rolled the name around in his brain. G.o.d help us. Buckner seemed desperate to respond, held his hand poised in the air, one forefinger extended, then said, "He fought in the first war, you know. I heard that about him."

"Who? Truman?"

"Yep. Infantry, maybe. Or artillery. At least he knows about fighting."

Nimitz kept his response to himself, thought, you've said enough already. But that's just perfect. A d.a.m.n infantryman in the White House. Hut two three. Maybe he can come out here and tell Buckner how to kick his people in the a.s.s. Nimitz was out of patience, the windowless room already stifling, sweat soaking his s.h.i.+rt. Buckner seemed not to be sweating at all.

"Well, gentlemen, shall we get down to it? If we're lucky, the cook will still have us some hot chow."

Nimitz glanced at Vandegrift, saw rigid impatience. Buckner suddenly rose, a quick shout to the outer office.

"I need Colonel Harper and his secretary, and I want MPs inside and out! What the h.e.l.l's going on around here? Lunch can wait! We've got guests. Let's show these men how the army throws out a welcome mat!"

Nimitz let out a breath, thought, we're not guests. I run this d.a.m.n show. Maybe the army has forgotten that.

It was the challenge for every operation like this, trying to blend the different branches in the service into a smooth command. He glanced at Vandegrift, who seemed content for things to run on Buckner's timetable. The two men sat in sweltering silence, Vandegrift focusing more on the map to one side. Buckner was outside now, gone altogether, and Nimitz suddenly realized, he's stirring this pot for my benefit, showing me how hands-on he is. Dammit, I don't need a show. I need to know he's got what we need to handle this operation.

An aide suddenly appeared, two gla.s.ses of what seemed to be tea, each with a rapidly disappearing ice cube. The man hustled away without a word, and Vandegrift took a short drink, set the gla.s.s down.

"I'm not much for fruit juice. You bring any bourbon?"

"You waited until now to remind me?"

There was no humor in the words, Nimitz growing more annoyed, the sweat stinging his eyes. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his face, said, "I suppose it's painfully apparent that a visiting blue jacket here is more trouble than he's worth. Not sure I've had anyone under my command communicate that to me before."

"If I may say, Admiral, that's probably the biggest difference between you and MacArthur. You expect all of us to work together, and you a.s.sume it will happen because it's the right thing for us to do. Mac would just order everyone to like each other, and he'll expect it to happen. If you don't go along, or perform to his expectations, he gets rid of you. It may be that, with all due respect, the navy has no business telling an army commander how to put troops on the ground. This shouldn't surprise you, sir, but I've been hearing too much scuttleb.u.t.t. b.i.t.c.hing has a way of crossing a lot of distance. Something smells here, and I for one want to know what it is."

Nimitz nodded, forced himself to drink the tea.

"I had a.s.sumed Admiral Turner to be the man who could keep that from happening. I still believe he's fit to handle this combined operation, but if I'm wrong, I need to hear that from Buckner. And if Buckner's not the man for this job, I'll hear it from everyone below him with enough backbone to speak up. I'm pretty sure that includes your General Geiger. That tough old bird has more medals than anyone in this theater, and if he wants to b.i.t.c.h, feel free to encourage him."

Vandegrift laughed.

"I already know what he wants. He thinks he should be in charge out here, and the army should be tending the goat herds. It's not quite appropriate for me to suggest I agree with him. But there's n.o.body else I'd rather see handling my Marines than Roy." He motioned to the map. "He'll have plenty to say about what his boys have done, and what the army boys are supposed to be doing."

Roy Geiger was another of the old bulldogs who was nearly Nimitz's age. Like Vandegrift, Geiger had established an outstanding reputation early in the war. Geiger had been an accomplished aviator, but the powers above him knew he could inspire his men no matter where he served. Now he was in overall command of the three Marine divisions a.s.signed to the Okinawan campaign, and Nimitz knew that in the three weeks since the landing, Geiger had done as well on Okinawa as he had anyplace before. Geiger had already led Marines into action on Guadalca.n.a.l and Bougainville, the Palau Islands and Guam, and in the process had been awarded the Navy Cross and the Distinguished Service Medal. He had also been awarded three gold stars, which Nimitz knew had been embarra.s.sing subst.i.tutes for the two higher honors, that Geiger should be wearing at least two Navy Crosses, just for starters. But it was the politics of war, few in Was.h.i.+ngton, including Vandegrift, wanting to bear the brunt of anyone's jealousy over this rough-hewn Marine getting his name in the paper too often. Nimitz liked Geiger, despite the rough edges, thought, it has to kick him in the a.s.s to be taking orders from an army man. Yep, if there's a problem, he'll tell me about it.

"Sir!"

Nimitz turned, saw one of Buckner's aides in the doorway, making way for an MP. The MP was stern-faced, wore a pair of forty-fives, stared at Nimitz, then Vandegrift, as though appraising whether the two men were a threat. The MP stepped into the room, stood to one side, his back pressed firmly against the wall. Nimitz saw a second MP, another rapid entrance, the two men acknowledging the all clear with a brief nod to each other, as though any danger had been neutralized. It was a ridiculous show, the kind of theatrics he knew had been absorbed by anyone who had ever served MacArthur. Buckner returned now, marching in, seemed satisfied that something vital had been accomplished in his absence. He stared down at Nimitz with the hard blue eyes, a show of fierceness that Nimitz had seen before, sat down heavily, his hands folded, a man waiting for some unpleasant task.

Nimitz eyed the MPs, thought, oh, for crying out loud. This is ridiculous.

"General Buckner, will you please ask your men to remain outside. We will summon them if needed."

Buckner seemed suddenly uneasy, as though his bluff had been called.

"Um ... of course, Admiral."

He turned, the men absorbing a look from Buckner that Nimitz couldn't see. He wants witnesses, Nimitz thought. Maybe he thinks I'm here to relieve him. So, he knows there's a problem. That's a start. The aide was out, then the MPs, one of them pulling the door closed behind him. Nimitz felt the air heating up even more, said, "For chrissakes, General, let some air in here. Unless you believe you've got a security problem in your own headquarters, we don't need to seal this place up like a fuel drum. I a.s.sume your MPs won't be lurking outside the door like private eyes, for G.o.d's sake."

Buckner turned again, self-conscious, seemed to check out beyond the door.

"No, sir. Certainly not. If we need a staff briefing, I'll summon them."

Nimitz didn't wait, motioned toward the map.

"What's going on in the south, General? Seems to be a lack of progress."

Buckner seemed surprised that Nimitz had avoided small talk. Buckner was immediately defensive, something Nimitz expected.

"Sir, we are facing a dedicated, fanatical enemy, who has all the good ground. The j.a.panese have created a ma.s.sed defensive position that takes full advantage of the a.s.sets of the island. Naval intelligence ... our intelligence was unable to tell us exactly where they'd be, but we know their positions for certain now. Their plan was most certainly to distract us in the north while they put up a major front across the southern half of the island that would be difficult, no matter which forces attacked them. It's pretty admirable, actually. I'll give Us.h.i.+jima credit for a good plan."

Nimitz saw a scowl from Vandegrift, said to Buckner, "What about your plan, General?"

Buckner crossed his arms, tilted his head to one side.

"Everything is under control here, sir. Before this is over with, we'll have destroyed every enemy installation, every hiding place, every defensive position. The j.a.ps have nowhere to run. Your navy boys are doing a fine job with their artillery, and I expect that will continue. There won't be a building standing in any town on this whole place. We'll level this place just like Mac did Manila. The enemy will understand that we're not playing around."

Nimitz looked down at the table, thought, Manila? MacArthur devastated a glorious, historic city for no good reason, except that he could. And the civilian casualties ...

"What of the Okinawan people, General? Our mission here is to capture these islands and eliminate the j.a.panese. I don't recall anyone in Was.h.i.+ngton telling us to eliminate the people who live here."

Buckner nodded, seemed to concede the point.

"d.a.m.n shame. But they chose their lot, sided with the j.a.panese. Can't be helped if they're in the way now. I have given this a great deal of thought, I must admit. I firmly believe that once we have secured this place, we embrace the Okinawan people into some sort of protectorate, making them a part of, well ... us. Though of course they would not be granted citizens.h.i.+p, anything like that. The engineers have a.s.sured me that this island can support two dozen or more airfields, and we will certainly benefit from the cooperation of the citizens here, labor and whatnot. We must also look to the future, our operations against the j.a.panese mainland, and even afterward. We must maintain control here, well after this war ends. This place guards our flanks, so to speak, against any aggressive acts we might encounter in the future, Russia, China, what have you."

Buckner seemed energized by his demonstration of political savvy, and Nimitz was stunned. He had no time to give Buckner a history lesson, knew that the j.a.panese had occupied Okinawa at their own convenience, without any friendly invitation from the Okinawan people or their civil government. But Buckner's concerns for the future of any political arrangements anywhere in the Pacific were far beyond any planning that should be going on in his own headquarters.

"General, I appreciate the gravity of thought you have given this matter, but your priorities seem to be a little out of sequence. Okinawans are dying in large numbers, many of them by the hands of the j.a.panese, and many from the impact of our own weaponry. Before we start inviting them to dinner, or welcoming them to the family, perhaps we should liberate them from the enemy." He saw Buckner absorbing his words as though it were an entirely new concept. "The point, General, is that before any other grand global strategies can be put into place, we must do what we can to secure this island, and hopefully, do so without extinguis.h.i.+ng these people in the process. The longer we take, the more they will suffer, plain and simple. And for that matter, I'd rather not absorb any more of our own casualties than we have to."

Buckner didn't respond, and Nimitz knew this conversation needed to return to the point.

"It's good that you've found the enemy's primary position, and apparently we now understand his strategy. So, how do you plan to drive through his defenses? It seems that frontal a.s.saults against a well-fortified enemy are ... costly."

Vandegrift shook his head, said, "End run. Amphibious a.s.sault. The Second Marine Division is waiting on Saipan and can be mobilized within a couple of days. That's a strong, well-rested force that can come ash.o.r.e in the south and set up behind the j.a.p positions you're facing now. Even without any element of surprise, our aircraft and naval guns will keep them in their holes. Once we're ash.o.r.e on two sides of them, the enemy will be in an untenable situation. They'll have to surrender, or do one of those blaze of glory things. Either way, our casualty counts will be minimized."

Buckner sniffed.

"As I said, sir, we have things under control. I would prefer that the Second Marines be kept in readiness for another amphibious operation closer to mainland j.a.pan. Admiral, you are familiar with the long-range planning. Does it not make sense to have a well-rested unit prepared to drive even closer to the enemy's homeland?" He didn't wait for a response. "With the artillery and armor we have on the ground, it is only a matter of time before we blow through the j.a.panese defenses. With all due respect, General, we long ago reconnoitered those landing zones, and Admiral Nimitz is very aware that it was our conclusion that those beaches are not defensible. The cost in lives could be catastrophic, and I will not partic.i.p.ate in another fiasco like Anzio! You must certainly agree that we don't want to see the Marines taking any more casualties than necessary. General, you should be pleased that Geiger's success in the north came so easily."

Nimitz saw Vandegrift straighten in the chair, as though inflating, the blast inevitable. Nimitz waited for it, saw Vandegrift red-faced, forcing himself into composure.

"I have been in communication with General Geiger, and I know personally that the general will happily escort you through the battlegrounds on the Motobu Peninsula. I am confident that you will see that efforts made by my people were made against a scattered, well-armed enemy, who took what we gave them exactly as they had planned."

Buckner seemed not to care how hot Vandegrift might be.

"Yes, yes, General, with all due respect, I am well aware of the enemy's actions on Motobu. I admit that at first, we did not understand what the enemy was doing, why they were offering your Marines such a soft defense. General Geiger has reported to me that their plan was designed to draw us into some awful ground, where their small numbers were enhanced by every other advantage. It was their intention to chew us up piecemeal. Well, I'm sure we can agree that their plans didn't succeed. And our casualties there were insignificant."

Vandegrift looked at Nimitz, no softening of his anger.

"There is no such thing, General, even for a Marine. I fail to see why you object to an amphibious a.s.sault."

Buckner closed his eyes.

"I must ask you, please do not drag out this debate. It serves no purpose. It would take far too long to mobilize the Second Marines for such an attack."

Vandegrift raised his voice a notch.

"Fine. Use your own people. Unless my intelligence reports are inaccurate, much of your Seventy-seventh Infantry Division is sitting out there holding fort on those d.i.n.ky little islands playing with sand castles. I heard they're a good outfit. Prove it by sending them into the south. You'll have an enormous amount of air and naval fire in support. To a.s.sume disaster is unwarranted. And, frankly, General, it is inappropriate."

Buckner rose slightly in his chair, and Nimitz knew this had to play out before he could interfere. Vandegrift was being energized by the information he was receiving from Geiger, and Nimitz knew that Geiger's Marines in the north of the island would expect to be used where the toughest fight would be. So far, that had not been the case. Vandegrift was doing exactly what his subordinate would hope, and Nimitz felt as though he was refereeing a wrestling match.

"General Vandegrift, the Seventy-seventh Division is where I need them to be, for now. Look, I understand the pride of the Marines. You have earned it, no doubt. But you must admit that the enemy forces Geiger's men faced northward were nothing like what the army divisions are facing now. At worst, your men are suffering every night through jitter parties, dealing with infiltrators and snipers. The heat is on down south, and the infantry has the support they need to get the job done."

Vandegrift was still red-faced.

"Your troops have been drawn into the same kind of soft defense my boys were, only you're facing the bulk of the d.a.m.n j.a.p army! Fine, forget the Second Division. Geiger is prepared right now to s.h.i.+ft as many units as are needed from the north as quickly as you give the order! If those men were down there, they'd be finding a way to cut past those dug-in b.a.s.t.a.r.ds in their deep-a.s.s caves. We've been in too many costly engagements on these islands, General, and we learned a long time ago that relying on artillery and dive-bombers to pour high explosives all over h.e.l.l and gone, trying to rearrange the landscape ... just doesn't do the job! The j.a.ps are like moles, and they've adapted to all that steel we drop on them by lying low. When the blasting stops, they come out again. Your people should be learning that right now!"