Pearl Harbour - A novel of December 8th by William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich Page B

knew the game within the game here this day. Genda and Fuchida were protégés of Yamamoto, and, in fact, were speaking for him, an ancient game of a younger samurai voicing the opinion of an elder and thus deflecting direct counterattack.
    “They are a huge waste of resources,” Yamamoto said forcefully, his open statement catching many by surprise. “If we really trusted in this analysis, we would immediately convert the seventy-thousand-ton battleships we are currently planning into giant aircraft carriers, capable of carrying two hundred or more planes each. Then we would have a real chance of winning naval dominance in the Pacific.”
    Several of the more traditional admirals exploded in anger at Yamamoto’s heretical views. They had been engaged in this fight for several years; and even though they were getting the money to build the battleships they cherished, they simply could not stifle the voice of the former head of the technical division of the Aeronautics Department. Yamamoto was rising because of his sheer ability, despite the hostility of much of the more conservative wing of the navy.
    No one spoke back directly to the vice minister, but the looks of hostility were barely concealed. He stood ready to accept a challenge, and then finally smiled and simply nodded.
    “My apologies for interfering in the presentation. Mr. Genda, please continue.” Yamamoto nodded toward the younger man.
    Genda nodded politely, took a deep breath, and then pushed into the opening his “master” had already created.
    “Sirs, I think I must express the deeper concern here. Even more than our shipbuilding program, our strategies and planning need rethinking. The Kessen Plan projects a certain wearing down of the Americans as they move through the Marshalls and on to the Marianas. The potential of an overwhelming air strike might inflict such losses that they would halt, even withdraw, concede the Philippines, but then apply their massive industrial strength to build up, even if it took six months or a year.”
    There were looks of confusion.
    “You present a contradiction, Genda,” came a reply. “On the one side, Fuchida states that bombers are ineffective, but in the next breath declares them deadly.”
    Genda nodded.
    “Carrier-based aircraft would be deadly: naval aircraft trained to fight against other ships, to strike them and sink them even as they maneuver. The army does not concern itself with such training. They might make some polite gestures, but their concerns are elsewhere. I maintain that carriers, properly employed, will profoundly change the entire focus of any future campaign at sea.”
    No one spoke in defense of the army, as he fully expected, but at the mention of carriers several shook their heads.
    “Carriers though?” came a reply from one of the admirals. “Our numerous war games have always shown that the carrier, unarmored, loaded with highly flammable aviation gas, if struck by but one bomb can be placed out of operation for hours, days, perhaps even lost.”
    Genda nodded.
    “And therefore, to commit them, unsupported or lightly supported, into a campaign against the Americans advancing through the Marshalls is too risky a venture, especially if scattered and ill protected as the main strike force is held back.”
    “No, I propose something far different,” Genda replied, now speaking fast, for he sensed he was about to lose his audience.
    “Again, I must maintain that a delaying campaign through the Marshalls, having the Americans come to us, ultimately will play to the American strength of recovery and industrialization.
    “No, instead the opening move should be that we strike first, strike hard, and strike with total surprise.”
    He looked around the room.
    “How?” someone asked.
    He picked up the pointer and again swept it to the eastern end of the table.
    “If war against the Americans, which personally I would find to be regrettable, becomes inevitable, our move should not be