“How will you select the pilots?”

Genda chuckled, and Nagumo smiled at the foolishness of his own question. “Admiral, if I ask for volunteers, everyone will step forward. No, I will select only those I consider the best and bravest from among the best and bravest men in the world.”

The first attack had been launched at six in the morning, while the carriers pitched in the deep swells. There had been no mishaps, and the second wave had followed forty-five minutes later. By eight o’clock, the assaults had commenced and war with the United States had begun with a tremendous Japanese victory. Two hours later, it was over and almost all the planes had returned. Only twenty-nine had been shot down, and another seventy damaged.

Nagumo again fretted and regretted the loneliness of command.

He wondered what Yamamoto would do and heard himself answer that his intimidating superior was a predator who would go for the throat. Yamamoto would not let the opportunity to further hurt the American navy pass by. If Pearl Harbor could be denied to America as a base for her reinforcement fleet, the final attack could easily be as great a victory as the destruction of the battleships in the first two.

If he gave in to Genda and Fuchida, it would mean turning the fleet southward, as it was already heading northwest on a course that would take it back to Japan. Such a turn might place the Kido Butai in the path of the two American carriers. However, there was nothing to indicate that the Americans had any idea he was to the north of the islands. Planning back in Tokyo had presumed that the Americans would think the attack had come from the west or south; thus permitting an easy withdrawal. So far, nothing had happened to indicate otherwise.