Robert Conroy - 1942

dmiral Chuichi Nagumo clasped his hands behind him and glowered as he looked down and across the flight deck of his flagship, the carrier Akagi. The ship's crew lined the deck and lustily cheered each returning hero, and it was both astonishing and exhilarating to see how many of the brave young eagles were home from their morning of triumph.

Why then was he so disturbed? The surprise attack on Pearl Harbor had been an overwhelming success that had exceeded virtually all expectations. He had accomplished everything he reasonably felt that he could. Why then did he have this feeling of uneasiness at what should have been the most glorious moment in his life?

Nagumo felt that he knew the answer, and it disturbed him. He was fifty-five, not too old for active command, but he was a man whose career had been without combat experience and bridged several developing technologies. By training and inclination, he was a big-gun man, a battleship man, a believer in traditional surface fighting. Nagumo had served on destroyers and cruisers, and commanded the battleship Yamashiro before his promotion to rear admiral and appointment to preside over the Naval Staff College. He was not a pilot and had never before served on an aircraft carrier.

But in April 1941, Nagumo had been promoted to command the First Air Fleet, which consisted of six carriers and more than four hundred planes. He had then been tasked to command the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, which would launch Japan into a war with the United States. Because of America's naval might, total surprise was essential to the attack's success. Nagumo had thought it too risky and had protested. His superior, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, had overruled him, and he had done as ordered to the best of his abilities.

Kido Butai was the name of the task force that included the six carriers, along with two battleships and attending cruisers and destroyers. When it sailed from northern Japan in late November, Nagumo had been cut off from the rest of the world.

To ensure secrecy, his ships kept total radio silence, and the enforced loneliness preyed on his doubts, causing him moments of near despair. Despite maintaining a stoic exterior, Nagumo was terrified that the Kido Butai would be located and either forced to withdraw in shame or defeated by the angered Americans, who had many more battleships than he.

While he commanded six carriers, Nagumo was still convinced that the battleship, and not the upstart and unproven carrier, was the queen of battle. No modern Japanese fleet had ever been defeated, and Nagumo had a deathly fear that his would be the first.

With luck and skill, they had made it to the launch point without detection. Incredibly, they caught the Americans by surprise and quickly eliminated the American battle line. The American battleship force in the Pacific was destroyed in an overwhelming victory for the Empire of Japan.

So why then was he still in turmoil?

Again, he knew the answer to his own dilemma. Along with some of his senior admirals, the young Turks in his command wanted more. They did not agree with him that the battleships were their main objective; they weren't satisfied with what he considered a total victory, and Nagumo was afraid that their greed would ruin him.

However, Nagumo felt compelled to listen to two of the most vocal of his critics. Commander Minoru Genda had planned the attack and was a protg of Yamamoto's. Genda had fervently argued that the next war, the one Nagumo had just started, would be fought with carriers, and not battleships, as the main protagonists. Genda had been ill; otherwise, he would have been in a plane observing the battle. The thirty-seven-year-old commander was fearless as well as brilliant.

Nagumo thought Genda's idea was preposterous, but then he reminded himself that he commanded six carriers whose planes had just destroyed at least that many battleships. It was very disturbing, and he acknowledged the irony that he now worried about the American carriers, and not their battleships.

The second voice that had to be listened to belonged to Lieutenant Commander Mitsuo Fuchida. Fuchida was thirty-nine, flight commander of the Akagi, and had commanded the first wave over Pearl Harbor. His excited voice had signaled that the surprise had been absolute. Fuchida's uniform was dirty and strain showed on his face, but his eyes were bright, and Nagumo knew the younger man was like a tiger yearning to be unleashed.