War and Remembrance Read Online Free

speak, but it was not for lack of wind. Pug was embarrassed by his own puffing compared to the even deep breaths of the older man. Rounding a turn of the uphill road, they looked out on a broad panorama of the base: docks, cranes, nests of destroyers and of submarines — and the terrible smashed half-sunk battleships, burned-out aircraft, and blackened skeletal hangars.
    Spruance spoke. “Good view.”
    “Too good, Admiral.” The admiral’s face turned. The big sober eyes flashed agreement. “I planned to spend the day aboard the
Northampton,
sir,” Pug panted, now that they were talking, “but when Admiral Halsey thinks of getting under way tomorrow, I figure I better fetch my gear.”
    “Well, I doubt the urgency exists.” Spruance patted a folded white handkerchief on his wet brow.
    Wake Island’s remote exposed location and the Navy’s present weakness, he said, all but precluded a fight. Admiral Kimmel, no doubt wanting to recover face after December 7th, had ordered the rescue just before the President had fired him. But the Fleet was awaiting a new Cincpac, and its temporary commander, Vice Admiral Pye, was having second thoughts. Abandoning the relief mission would cause great controversy, and there were good arguments on both sides, but Spruance suspected that these marines, like the phantoms in the War College exercise, were fated to spend the war in prison camps.
    Talking in a calm War College vein, marching at a pace that made Victor Henry’s heart gallop, Spruance said that December 7th had changed the Pacific balance of forces. The United States had been half-disarmed.
The
odds were now ten or eleven carriers to three, ten combat-ready battleships to none, and nobody knew where those heavy enemy forces were. The Japanese had shown prime combat and logistical ability. They had unveiled ships, planes, and fighting men as good as any on earth. The Philippines, Southeast Asia, and the East Indies might be theirs for the taking, stretched thin as the British were. Right now the Navy could do little but hit-and-run raids to gain battle skill and keep the Japanese off balance. But it had to hold a line from Hawaii to Australia at all costs, through the arc of islands outside Japanese aircraft range. New carriers and battleships would in time join the fleet. Jumping off from Hawaii and Australia, they would start battering back Japan from the east and the south. But that was a year or more away. Meantime Australia had to be held, for it was a white man’s continent. Its overrunning by nonwhites might trigger a world revolution that could sweep away civilization. With this arresting remark Raymond Spruance fell silent.
    They trudged uphill through tall sweet-smelling green walls of sugarcane under an ever-hotter sun, amid peaceful bird song.
    “Pessimistic picture, Admiral,” Victor Henry ventured.
    “Not necessarily. I don’t think Japan can cut the mustard. Weak industrial base, not enough supplies for a long struggle. She’ll have a hot run for a while, but we’ll win the war if the spirit at home holds up. We’ve got a strong President, so it ought to. But our country’s in a two-front war, and the German front is the decisive one, so we’re second in line out here. And we’ve started with a big defeat. Therefore the realities are against any early heroics in the Pacific, such as an all-out battle to relieve Wake.”
    Set back from the road amid lawns and gardens, its verandas roomy and sprawling, Warren’s home looked more suited to an admiral than to a naval aviator. Spruance said when they halted, pouring sweat, “Your son lives here?”
    “His father-in-law bought it for them. She’s an only child. He’s Senator Lacouture of Florida. Actually, it’s not that large inside.”
    Patting his red face with a handkerchief, Spruance said, “Senator Lacouture! I see. Rather changed his mind about the war, hasn’t he?”
    “Admiral, a lot of good people honestly thought we ought to stay out