Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33
Read Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 Online
Authors: Hector C. Bywater
© Hector C. Bywater, 1925
Hector C. Bywater has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 1925 by Constable & Co.
This edition published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
I
NTRODUCTION
THE late Hector Bywater, for years naval correspondent of the London
Daily
Telegraph
and other well-known British newspapers, possessed a rare complex of qualities. He was not only technically proficient in his mastery of a difficult aft, the business of interpreting sea power to the public; he was not only an able writer, but he possessed that attribute all too rare in students of war — vision.
It is that quality, perhaps more than any other, that distinguishes this book — Bywater's fictitious but realistic account of a war between Japan and the United States,
The
Great
Pacific
War
. Bywater wrote it in 1925 when he was a leading figure in what came to be known as “The Fleet Street Press Gang,” composed of a small group of British naval correspondents who gathered periodically and convivially to exchange their encyclopaedic knowledge of the navies of the world. He could not have foreseen then — in a world obsessed with the price of stocks and the length of women’s skirts — the rise of a Hitler or the War of the World that has now convulsed our civilization. But a small cloud was already beginning to be apparent in the fair skies over the Pacific, and drawing upon his great knowledge of the war potential of Japan and the United States, and utilizing his flair for strategy, Mr. Bywater wrote this pragmatic, and in some ways amazingly prophetic, account of an imaginary conflict in 1931-33.
Those who read this book in its earlier editions and respected Mr. Bywater's interpretations of a fictional conflict as much as I did, could not have been surprised by the formidable blows struck by the Japanese in the first operations of the actual war of 1941. For the author did not make the mistake — one made by most people in this country — of underestimating the Japanese ability. He knew that the United States was inherently stronger than Japan and that a war vis-à-vis the two nations could end in only one way; yet he recognized Japanese strengths and American weaknesses; he understood the tremendous significance of distance and geography. He comprehended the single-minded chauvinism that make the Japanese formidable fighting men; in another of his books Mr. Bywater describes the Japanese naval officer as “living” his profession; study of the naval art of war is the meat and drink and passion — indeed, the very meaning of life, to many Japanese officers.
It is this factor that Bywater’s book brings home clearly. We must realize, as Bywater did, that we face no “push-over” in the Pacific, that we cannot dismiss the Japanese contemptuously as too many Americans have been wont to do with the phrase: “Why, those yellow bastards … ”
The Japanese are men who are not afraid to die and who are skilled and competent on land, but particularly on the sea and in the air. Like the Germans, they are professionals in the study of war; the democracies, devoted to the development of freedom, are as yet amateurs. The Japanese — and the Germans — can be met and mastered, therefore, only by men who are as “tough” in body and spirit as they are, men who must become in the midst of war professionals in the art of war. A vein of steel lies deep in the bedrock of the American character. We are engaged in a struggle for whatever is precious, whatever is fine that life may hold for us, a struggle for life itself. The hard steel of American manhood must be freed of the silt and dross of the years: build our structure of victory upon such bedrock as this and we cannot fail.
Hector Bywater rightly appraised the American character, and as he describes the surprise attacks which opened the fictitious war of 1931 (just as they opened the actual war of 1941), he comments: “But the first thrill of horror [in the United States] was succeeded by a stern resolve to see this struggle through to the bitter end. However protracted the war might be, however costly in blood and treasure, it would be waged with the combined might of the whole nation until the sword was struck from the enemy’s grasp and he was forced to sue for peace.”
The invasion of the Philippines, the struggle of our Asiatic Fleet against great odds, the seizure of Guam, submarine and air activities, are all described in this book, not with the sensationalism of the Sunday supplement, but in the sober yet engrossing estimates of the serious student of war.
Bywater wrote as if in retrospect, and he made it clear that in the fictitious war of 1931 the United States did not know until months afterward what really happened at Guam. Today, in this grim struggle for mastery of the Pacific, Bywater’s prophecies bear bitter fruit. The cable to Guam (and the Philippines) was cut almost simultaneously with the Japanese surprise attack on Hawaii on December 7, 1941; on December 13, as I write, the Navy Department has just issued this terse communique:
The Navy Department announced that it is unable to communicate with Guam either by cable or by radio.
The capture of the island is probable. A small force of less than 400 naval personnel and 155 Marines were stationed in Guam.
According to the last reports from Guam, the island has been bombed repeatedly and Japanese troops had landed at several points on the island.
Such parallels between Bywater’s vision and the gross facts of actual war can already be noted in the first days of conflict, and future events will unquestionably corroborate many of the author’s forecasts and deductions. Mr. Bywater would have been the first to disclaim omniscience; he did not completely foresee — in the days before Lindbergh’s flight to Paris — the terrific power of the air arm, nor did he predict the treacherous Japanese attack upon Pearl Harbor. But his book —
The
Great
Pacific
War
— was, in the light of present events, deeply prophetic, and in many ways will continue to be so in the light of events to come. We may read these words from the closing chapter, confident in their integrity:
China, the country for whose control Japan had risked so much, was now a completely independent power … Sakhalin had been surrendered in its entirety to Russia …
… the shortage of commodities [in Japan] had now become more marked … the historian may be permitted to marvel at the folly of Japan in wantonly attacking a country with whom she had no real cause for enmity, and whose friendship was, indeed, essential to her own welfare. As a result of this unprovoked conflict, Japan was brought to the verge of ruin, nor is it conceivable that she will regain her former status as a first-rank Power during the present generation.
Hanson W. Baldwin, NEW YORK,
December
, 1941
Causes that led to the War — Japan’s endeavours to control China — China takes a step towards unification — Friction over an American concession — Situation complicated by a Communist agitation in Japan — Japanese Government decides on war with the United States as a solution for domestic difficulties
A PISTOL shot fired at Sarajevo in June, 1914, touched off the European powder magazine, causing an explosion that convulsed the earth. It might be said with equal truth that a bomb bursting in Tokyo on January 5, 1931, gave the signal for the recent tremendous conflict between the United States and Japan, the echoes of which have scarcely died away. Thanks to the documentary evidence now available, it is possible to trace, link by link, the connection between this attempt on the life of Prince Kawamura, the Japanese Prime Minister, and the subsequent events which culminated in the Pacific War; but to do so we must first briefly review what had been happening in Japan and elsewhere in the Far East during the preceding ten years.
While to most of the nations embroiled therein the World War of 1914-18 had proved an unmitigated curse, to one at least it had brought wealth, prosperity, and increased political influence. Alone among all the belligerents, Japan emerged from the struggle with a substantial balance on the credit side. In the space of four years her industrial system developed beyond all expectations, her foreign trade increased fourfold, and her gold reserve tenfold. Since she had taken only a nominal share in the actual fighting, her losses had been trivial, yet they were richly compensated by the possession of all the former German Pacific islands north of the Equator. Moreover, she had made the most of her opportunities in China while the rest of the world was preoccupied with war. Over some of the richest provinces of that ancient Empire she ruled with all the authority of a proprietor. China itself, disunited, racked, and plundered by selfish factions, with a puppet central government and a horde of venal politicians who kept the treasury in a chronic state of emptiness, was in no condition to resist the encroachment of her virile neighbour. The “21 Demands” which Japan put forward in 1915 showed how far she was prepared to go in her resolve to make the best part of Chinese territory an appanage of Nippon.
Nor did Japanese imperialism encounter any serious check till 1921. In that year the Washington Conference met, and the attitude of the Western Powers, though not unfriendly, was such as to convince the statesmen of Tokyo that some modification of their policy towards China was advisable in the interest of Japan herself. Certain covenants were therefore negotiated, aiming at the maintenance of the “open door,” and the granting of equal opportunities to all who wished to trade with China or assist in developing her economic resources.
It soon became evident, however, that Japan had no intention of allowing others to share the privileges she claimed on the Asiatic mainland. The process of “freezing out” foreign interests in those parts of China under her domination went on as before, though by methods less overt and brusque than had hitherto been practised. Periodical outbreaks of civil warfare gave her a pretext for keeping troops at strategic points in Chinese territory. Her capitalists and merchants enjoyed a virtual monopoly in Southern Manchuria, besides holding a controlling interest in the mines, railways and industries of Eastern Inner Mongolia. The province of Fukien had been brought within the ever-widening sphere of Japanese influence, and even the coal and iron mines of the Yangtze Valley were exploited to a large extent by Japanese nationals.
To a casual observer, therefore, it seemed as though nothing could prevent Japan from becoming, by the process of transition from “peaceful penetration” to permanent occupation, the supreme arbiter of China’s destiny, political as well as economic. But for the attainment of this object it was essential that China should remain disunited and impotent. National unification, the setting up of a strong central government which could speak and act for China as an entity, and, if need be, mobilise all the national resources in defence of national interests — such a development would mean the end of foreign ascendancy. Japan, knowing this well, had shown herself unsympathetic towards every movement in the direction of coalition. It was to her interest that the policy of
divide
et
impera
should be pursued by fomenting internal discord. She was credited with having secretly supported with arms and money the various
Tu’chuns
, or local war lords, whose private feuds kept the country in a perennial ferment and effectually hindered the establishment of national unity.
So dissension and disorder held sway till 1929, with the state of China going from bad to worse; but in that year arose the star of General Wang Tsu, scholar, soldier, and patriot, whose name bids fair to go down to posterity as the regenerator of his country. As a youth Wang Tsu had graduated at an American University, where his intellectual gifts had earned him something of a reputation. Returning to China, he took up the practice of law at Hankow, and was engaged in that peaceful pursuit when civil war broke out early in 1929, following the attempt of Tu-Shih-kuan, a military adventurer from Shansi, to march on Peking and proclaim himself dictator. Wang Tsu, who had joined the Northern Army in March as a volunteer, soon revealed himself as a military genius with a talent for leadership.
Rising by sheer force of personality to commanding rank, he was found a few months later leading the right wing of General Min’s army, which inflicted a smashing defeat on Tu Shih-kuan at Ho-kian. Shortly after this battle General Min was disabled by sickness, whereupon the Government at Peking, yielding to the wish of the army, appointed Wang Tsu as his successor. The new commander-in-chief lost no time in showing his mettle. Following up the discomfited Tu Shih-kuan, he fell upon that luckless adventurer and scattered his army to the winds, Tu himself being killed. Then, turning in his tracks with a speed seldom paralleled in Oriental warfare, Wang marched his troops two hundred miles in twelve days and attacked Li Ping-hui, the Manchurian ruler who had supported Tu, routing him with heavy loss. It is interesting to note that even at this early date Wang had struck a blow at Japanese interests, to which Li Ping-hui was known to be attached.
Flushed with success, the victorious general returned to Peking and placed himself at the disposal of the Government, at the same time requesting that he be given a free hand to deal with any other satrap who chose to defy the central authority. President Huang Sen, a well-meaning statesman who now saw his long-cherished dream of unity within reach, sent out invitations to the military governors of each province to assemble at Peking for the purpose of discussing a new scheme of federation, hinting that failure to comply would be followed by a visit from the redoubtable Wang Tsu and his ever-victorious army. The hint was not lost. By 1930 all the provincial governors had repaired to the capital, and it was evident that agreement would be reached on the vital point of unification. Even the sluggish patriotism of the provincial governors was stirred by the prospect of putting an end to that foreign dictation which they had endured for so long; and for the first time since the revolution, all parties in China found themselves working amicably together with one common object — in this case the eradication of Japanese influence from every part of the Chinese dominions.
Such, then, was the position at the dawn of 1930. Japan looked on with growing concern, as well she might, having by this time convinced herself, rightly or wrongly, that her whole future — nay, her very existence — was bound up with the exploitation of China. She had come to regard the resources of that country as her own by divine right. Without Chinese minerals her industrial machine could not be kept going; it required to be fed with a constant supply of the coal, iron, copper and tin from the mines of Shansi, Shantung and Manchuria. Without Chinese foodstuffs her people would go hungry, for the domestic supply had long since ceased to cover the needs of an ever-growing population. The proportion of imported food had now increased to more than one-third, of which the greater part came from China. Since the discovery of rich oil-fields in Shansi province in 1926, and her acquisition of prior rights over the same, Japan had largely reorganised her industries and communications on an oil-fuel basis, and any stoppage or interference with this supply would be disastrous. For these reasons it was necessary at all costs to maintain her grip on China, and no one familiar with the circumstances ever doubted that she would take drastic measures rather than relax it.
But she had another and even more imperative motive for holding her own in China. In the event of war with a Great Power she could not carry on for a month without Chinese supplies, and since China — smarting under the memory of years of tyranny — would be at best a malevolent neutral in such a war, nothing was more certain than that the stream of foodstuffs and raw materials from the mainland would be cut off unless Japan were in control of the source. Japanese strategists therefore had reason on their side when they endeavoured by every means to strengthen their grasp on the most productive provinces of the neighbouring country, for if these were lost Japan would be at the mercy of any foe who was powerful at sea.
But in thus pursuing a policy which aimed at the virtual enslavement of China, she had inevitably drawn upon herself the hostility of other Powers. Japan, in fact, had been looked at askance for some years past as a nation whose avowed militaristic tendencies were a danger to world peace. Her intolerant attitude towards other foreign interests in East Asia had repeatedly evoked protests from the Western Governments, though by this time it was clear to everyone that nothing short of military action would avail to turn her from her purpose. And she was much too formidable to be challenged with impunity. In the opinion of the best judges, her strategic position made her almost impregnable to attack, for her fleet held absolute command of the Western Pacific, and the lack of bases in that area seemingly rendered it impossible for any hostile fleet to menace her shores. Moreover, with an active army of 250,000 men, and a trained reserve of two millions, she was strong enough to hold her own against any force that could be brought against her from the neighbouring Continent.
And so it happened that up to the period at which our narrative begins Japan’s ascendency on the Asiatic Continent, antagonistic though it was to all other interests in that region, had not been seriously contested. In the autumn of 1930 an incident had occurred which seemed not unlikely to bring matters to a head. In October the Peking Government granted to an American syndicate, headed by Mr. Waldo Sayers, the well-known New York financier, a concession to work the Green Mountain iron and coal fields of Kiangsi, an upper province of the Yangtze Valley, where exceptionally rich deposits had been located by American prospectors. Japan forthwith addressed a protest to Peking, pointing out that since the district referred to was one in which Japanese interests had hitherto been recognised as paramount, the validity of this concession to the nationals of another Power could not be admitted by her. The Chinese Government, in reply, pointed out that Kiangsi province was not mentioned as a Japanese enclave in any existing convention or treaty between the two countries, so that the Government was fully justified in granting such a concession to the American syndicate. The Japanese rejoinder to this note was brusque, and even threatening, but Peking stood firm. There the matter rested for the moment while Mr. Sayers continued his preparations for developing the concession, though the Japanese Press boasted in violent language that neither he nor any other foreigner would be permitted to raise a ton of coal or iron from the Kiangsi mines.
Concurrent events in Japan itself had already begun to turn the thoughts of her rulers into dangerous channels. A succession of harsh laws had utterly failed to check the spread of radical doctrines which had taken root among the masses some twenty years beforehand. Large sections of the people were imbued with Communistic ideas, and organised labour was loudly demanding a voice in the conduct of national affairs. It was clear that the old order was changing, but the representatives of that order were in no mood to accept the inevitable. Honestly believing as they did that the advent of democratic government would herald the ruin of their country, they were prepared to go to any lengths rather than submit to such an innovation. It is true that manhood suffrage had been conceded in 1925 after years of fruitless agitation by the Liberal parties, but this, as everyone had foreseen, made little difference to the system of government, which remained in essence just as much an autocracy as before. The Japanese Parliament, having no real executive power, was little more than a debating club. The group of Elder Statesmen whose labours had raised Japan to the rank of a Great Power, had passed away, but in their stead the military chiefs still reigned supreme. It was not to be expected that they would stand idle while the shadow of revolution darkened the land and threatened the eclipse of everything they and their caste stood for.
Many years before, a writer on Asiatic affairs had predicted what their decision would be in such an event. “It is a cardinal principle of the ruling element in Japan” he observed, “that a people which is kept preoccupied with trouble abroad will have neither the time nor the inclination to brood over its domestic grievances. That these men, in whom the feudal spirit still burns fiercely beneath a veneer of Western civilisation, will remain passive in face of this growing menace to their power and their most sacred traditions, is not to be believed. On the contrary, it is virtually certain that they will shrink from no course of action which is calculated to stem the rising tide of rebellion and anarchy. On an earlier occasion, when the domestic situation was far less grave, they did not scruple to plunge the country into war with China. What more likely than that the same expedient will be adopted in the present emergency? Patriotism is still a virtue in Japan, and there is little doubt but that all the best elements in the nation would support a policy of war if they believed the alternative to be social chaos.”
