Pearl Harbour - A novel of December 8th (15 page)

Inside were two letters, neatly folded, one in Japanese, the other in English. He drew out the letter in English, scanned it quickly, and could not conceal a sigh of relief, and then slowly, carefully, read it again, the only sound in the room the ticking of an ornate porcelain clock on the fireplace mantel and the crackling of the pine logs that were crumbling into glowing ashes.

It went far beyond what he had expected, far beyond it. Finished with reading the letter he carefully folded it along its original creases and placed it back in the envelope.

“I am certain a written reply will be speedily arranged after I consult with my government,” Grew said, noncommittally.

The two diplomats were silent for a moment, looking at each other. Only weeks before Hirota had made a bitter speech in response to Roosevelt’s accusations, declaring that what happened between China and Japan was not the affair of America and, if anything, the president’s words would only create more bloodshed by encouraging the Chinese to continue to fight a war they could not win.

Total victory in China against the Nationalists and, after them, the Communists was all but a foregone conclusion. Japan would not retreat, and ultimately Japan’s presence in China would restore order and end the generation-long chaos that had cost the lives of millions.

Sarcastic comments were in the press as well, obviously engineered from Hirota’s office, that America showed no interest regarding the Italians in Ethiopia, the current war in Spain; therefore why this browbeating over a China racked by bloody civil war? If anything, Japan brought with its actions the promise of peace and stability to the region.

Grew did find it ironic that the death and suffering of millions in China, had, in these last few days, taken a backseat to the death of four American sailors on the Yangtze River, which was now the topic of this confrontation.

“I must speak frankly,” Hirota finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Grew nodded, saying nothing.

“I must express my personal shame and deepest regret over this entire incident. I can assure you, Mr. Ambassador, that if any of us in the government had even been remotely aware of this action being planned, we would have used all means possible to stop it. All of Japan is shamed by what has happened.” He paused, Grew looking sidelong at his aide to ensure that the translation by Hirota’s interpreter had been accurate. There was a nod of agreement.

Grew cleared his throat. “Sir, nevertheless I must express my government’s grievous shock and anger at this wanton action of aggression.”

Hirota lowered his head, and Grew pressed on. “Our naval gunboat
Panay,
an official representative of the United States of America, was on the Yangtze River in order to protect American property and, if need be, evacuate American nationals caught in the middle of the war that your nation now wages in China. Our presence there was with the full knowledge and permission of the Nationalist government.

“Our ship was clearly marked with American flags. We were openly on that river for humanitarian reasons and in no way whatsoever attempted to hide our presence. Its presence was known by all, including your forces in the days prior to this wanton and unprovoked attack by your naval air force.”

Hirota said nothing, merely nodding with lowered head. “Four dead, over forty wounded in the attack. One of our men was wounded while holding the American flag aloft, trying to wave your planes off, and yet still they attacked.”

That incident had at least been reported in the popular press, and the imagery of it was riveting. American newspapers were running drawings of the sailor, holding the flag up, staggering from his wounds, and whether the report was true or not, it had aroused bitter public opinion against Japan. And yet, there was, stunningly, no depth to that bitterness.

Grew was amazed by the poll. If the Japanese ever learned of it, in spite of their abject apologies now, they would read it as nothing short of craven cowardice and it would embolden them to further acts of aggression.

Hirota raised his head to speak, but Grew pressed on, knowing he had to at least put up a strong front, regardless of what some damn poll said.

“The excuse offered by your military that it was all a mistake is ludicrous and shameful. If for no other reason than the fact that Japan prides itself with the repeated claim that it has the best pilots in the world. How can one of the best pilots in the world not see what he is shooting at? How can he not see it was Americans he was shooting at? And furthermore, it was not just your pilots who attacked us. Your army’s artillery shelled the wreckage, with survivors still in the water, wounding yet more of our citizens. If it had not been for the timely arrival of a British gunboat, which had also suffered attack, I think it is clear that every American aboard the
Panay
would have been slaughtered. The actions of your army and navy are shameful beyond belief.”

Grew knew he was letting emotion get the better of him. He fell silent, fearful that he might say more.

“I am having a very difficult time,” Hirota said slowly in English, “Things happen unexpectedly.”

Grew said nothing now. The letter he had just been handed by Hirota actually surprised him by its almost abject tone. The government took full responsibility, stated that those involved in the incident would be punished, and surprisingly was offering an indemnity of well over a million dollars to be paid to the families who had suffered losses.

More amazingly, the marines stationed outside the embassy all day long had been coming back inside, carrying bundles of letters from Japanese citizens and even school groups, expressing their shame over the incident and asking for forgiveness. It was a strange, and yet touching outpouring.

To an American, the offering of money as some sort of compensation for men so cold-bloodedly murdered was an insult; but to this culture it was a humble way of offering atonement, not unlike the “blood gold” of old Norse tradition, where a family prevented a feud by admitting the wrongdoing of a killing and providing a lifelong income to the bereaved as settlement. “So now what do we do?” Grew asked.

Hirota, a bit surprised, looked at him. “Sir?”

“Just that, sir,” Grew pressed. “I cannot speak officially at this moment, but unofficially I believe my government will ultimately accept this letter with the spirit intended, that what occurred was a terrible mistake. But frankly, sir, we both know it was not a mistake, as far as some in your military are concerned. Already we are receiving reports from American missionaries that the display of our flag over churches, hospital compounds, schools, and refugee centers, rather than deterring attacks, is triggering them.”

Hirota reddened. “Sir, in the confusion of war, tragedies happen.”

“And that is precisely what I am addressing. You know me, sir. You know my desire from the day I first set foot on your shores was to work with all my powers to ensure peace between our nations. How do we move from here to ensure peace?” Hirota shifted uncomfortably, and Grew studied him carefully, very carefully.

Grew stood up and returned to his desk, picked up a file folder and, returning, handed it to Hirota.

“Sir, please examine the contents. Those were transmitted from Singapore, having just been delivered there from a British citizen returning from Nanking. They are wire service photographs that at this moment are going around the world.” Hirota opened the folder and visibly paled as he turned the sheets of paper.

Though grainy as typical of wire service photographic transfers, the contents were clear enough. A pile of corpses being thrown into the river by Chinese civilians while Japanese guards stood about; another of two Japanese officers grinning, holding their samurai swords, the caption accompanying the photo explaining that the two were in a competition to see who could decapitate the most victims in Nanking; the winner so far was claiming 105. At their feet were half a dozen heads. Most horrific, a sequence of half a dozen photographs of a Chinese male, naked, not tied but instead tethered to a pole, and then being used for bayonet practice by several laughing soldiers, the last photograph the corpse of the man curled up in a fetal position, his “victors” standing around him holding bloody bayonet-tipped rifles high in the air.

Sighing, Hirota closed the folder.

“Oh, do take it with you,” Grew said coldly. “Believe me, everyone in the world will see those. I have additional copies already. Magazines in America in a few weeks will publish them,
Life, Time
,
Look.
Think of how that will impact American public opinion, compounded by this
Panay
incident,”

He was bluffing again. If the
Panay
incident resulted in the majority of Americans saying it was best to simply cut and run, get every American out of China so there could be no more “mistakes,” he knew the sight of Chinese civilians being decapitated, being used for bayonet practice, and reports of children as young as six being raped, might cause moral outrage, but within a day it would be pushed off center stage to be replaced by some frivolous news about the latest goings-on in Hollywood or society affairs in New York.

He wondered if there was anything, after this, that would finally cause the country to awaken and realize their collective inaction would only serve to embolden the radicals in Japan to take the next step, and then the next, misinterpreting just how angered America really would become if pushed too far, and believing instead that we would always cut and run. The result, in the end, would be tragic, for both sides, and come at a far bloodier cost.

He felt he had to push the bluff as far as he could, to try and give some kind of warning with the hope that it would strike to the core. “I can assure you, though some view my people as uncaring about the situation beyond their borders, this will generate, at some level, a reaction that will imprint and stay with my people for a generation to come. And thus my question, How do we stop this? How do we stop this from devolving into a war between America and Japan?”

Grew looked over at his interpreter, realizing he had been speaking so rapidly that something might have been lost, but the young man spoke quickly, and the interpreter sitting by Hirota nodded, indicating that the translation had been accurate.

Hirota raised his gaze from the closed folder. “I am shamed.”

Grew knew enough not to press the issue, but Hirota said no more.

“How do we step back from this, sir? We are at the brink. You know my love of your nation. You know I wish to view that,” and he cast a disparaging wave of disgust at the folder filled with images of atrocities, “as an aberration. You know that since my arrival here five years ago I have sought better understanding. And you know the deep love I have developed for your country, its people, its culture, its remarkable history.” In spite of himself there was a husky tone to his voice as he spoke the last words.

“If we cannot reach accord,” Grew said, “I fear for the future. You and I must rebuild that accord, sir, otherwise there will be a cataclysm.”

“I fear the same,” Hirota replied.

Grew sat back and exhaled noisily. It was a remarkable reply on Hirota’s part. “I think the core of the issue is this. Your military, with its increasing political power, believes that it has the right to act as it pleases in China. That your government, in turn, does not respond to rein this in, out of concern for another coup attempt like last year or because it actually wishes this imperialistic act to continue.”

Hirota stiffened. “Sir. I do not recall any American objections when the English were carving out their Empire in India, nor English objections when you so aggressively seized your control of an entire continent, rich in all the resources you coveted.”

Grew nodded. “Yes, that is true. But, sir, that was the nineteenth century. This is the twentieth. Imperialism in this modem age is not as it was. The reaction of the global community is not as it was.”

“Is it not?” Hirota replied. “It is easy for you to say now. But there are no photographs of England’s Opium War against China, where it was nothing less than, how do you say, a drug dealer. Nor are there photos of your treatment of your native population, nor of your brutal occupation of the Philippines back in 1900. Are they not the same?”

“No sir, they are not,” Grew replied sharply. “All nations have done wrong. I want to think my nation has the courage to admit that. Your government has shown courage in admitting that it did not plan the attack on the
Panay
but is willing to make amends. I commend you for that. But sir, the past is dead; the mistakes of the past are dead. I fear for our mutual futures. We are heading on a path, sir, that could annihilate hundreds of thousands of our young men, perhaps millions, if we do not tread carefully.”

“I came here to seek your nation’s forgiveness for the terrible tragedy regarding your ship
Panay,
which I must say was in Chinese waters in the middle of a war zone,” Hirota replied.

Grew was silent, hoping for more, far more than this response. He felt if only he could get through to this man, bring him into personal alliance, the growing control of the army over their government could still be reined in.

“Sir, may I speak frankly before you leave?”

“By all means, Mr. Ambassador.”

“We have our differences. I have read every word of your public utterances since you took office and in them your support of your army’s occupation of China. And yet, I suspect it is your military far more than your civilian government that has so ordered things.”

Hirota did not reply.

“You and I must continue to talk. We both know how some military men, once set on a course, will follow it without regard to the consequences that can echo for generations. You and I must be frank with each other. There is far more that can bind us, than separate us. We can form an understanding that will ensure peace in the Pacific and prosperity for both nations.”

“If that is based upon our withdrawal from China, which your president has demanded,” Hirota said stiffly, “those talks will be difficult indeed.”