Sorry- I was going to do beach gradients and beach surveys of the Western Pacific today, since there is a cool story about them, and the Counterintelligence Section of the 14th Naval District, since I have the proof in a precious copy of Jasper Holmes marvelous book “Double Edged Secrets,” Naval Institute Press, 1979.
I am mesmerized by the artifact, since it has a letter from Jasper in the fly leaf, and a dedication in Jaspers hand. Part of the dedication is to Mac Showers, who used his contacts in the Navy and CIA to get the book cleared for publication through the labyrinth of the security process. This being one of the first inside accounts of how the codes were broken, there was considerable resistance in Washington to telling the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
The copy is on loan from my pal Brian, given to him by his Dad, Ken, who included a copy of the correspondence he had with Jasper after the publication of the book.
The hook of the story involves an eighty-year-old conchologist- yes, I know, I didn’t know there was such a discipline- named Ditlev D. Thaanum. This was a pivotal issue and a vital element in the planning of the invasion of Okinawa, the first of the close-in Japanese islands, and a sort of preparation for the coming Big Deal, Operation DOWNFALL, the two-stage amphibious invasion of the Japanese Home Islands.
I am not going to spoil it right now- I was going to do my research last night and took the copy of Jasper’s book to the brown chair, since Willow was closed for an unprecedented second day due to the snow, and then I started reading the opening account of Jasper at home on a lazy Sunday morning and got hooked with that account of what happened that surreal morning when a world ended.
Jasper lived over at 4009 Blacks Point with his wife and son then. I imagine it was a traditional bungalow, but I can’t tell. Jasper’s house was ripped down in 1991 to make way for a multimillion dollar gated hideaway that is there now. Back then, the war clouds had been gathering all summer, and each precious weekend had a little wistful touch to them, since when the balloon went up, things for going to be very busy indeed until it was all over, one way or the other.
Jasper’s drive to work that morning featured a rapid passage through a languid downtown Honolulu and hundreds of autos converging to the Kam Highway to get to the base at Pearl.
(The empty parking lot behind the former 14th Naval District HQ on the Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard. Jasper said it was deserted the day of the attack, just like this).
He reported to his duty station- the Dungeon. He arrived in the strange lull between the attack waves. He was told by the duty officer that Arizona had gone up like a roman candle, Oklahoma had capsized at her moorings, and the situation was bad. Very Bad.
They got on with doing what they were doing- trying to penetrate the naval code of the people who were busy strafing the base and firing torpedoes into the massed fleet. At some point the second wave of attackers came back, and the basement was a fine place to be.
This is where Jasper parked his car, around the back of the stairs down to the entrance of The Dungeon. It was taken on a Sunday, with nothing at all happening in the shipyard. The attack was conducted on the same sort of day, and Jasper said it was very strange, with no activity on the base away from harbor itself, which was soiled under the clouds of black smoke from the burning ships.
(The entrance to The Dungeon is down the stairs behind the steel door.)
So that is where the evening went, to the place and time I have often thought about, particularly on a Sunday duty day heading over to Ford Island and sliding past the Arizona Memorial on the ferry.
Anyway, this isn’t intended to be an account of the attack, nor is it getting me any closer to the subject of how Brian’s Dad solved one of the problems about the invasion of Okinawa- and the prospects for the even more ambitious landings that it was going to take to seize the Home Islands.
But I was sitting with my second cup of coffee, thinking about beach gradients, and realized I had to take a little necessary diversion this morning. Something about new retired ID cards- I won’t fuss with you about it. The new ones do not have our social security numbers on them- or, better said, the numbers are embedded in the bar code on the back or something- and who would care, really?
Except we have to. As part of beefed up security for military installations, there is going to be a new access process which requires the retired crowd to enter a four digit pin, and that is the purview of the Base Provost Marshal, who has a policy that the old style ID cards can’t be used. Something about identity theft. Heck, they used to make us print our Social Security number on our checks.
So, imagine that no one really knows this is coming, and there are tens of thousands of old farts out here who will only become aware of this new requirement when they are really urgently trying to get groceries at the Commissary or liquor at the Class Six Store, and then thousands of them descending at once of the Pass and ID office where there are three- count ‘em three- dedicated Army civilians to attend to the issuance of new cards.
Anyway, I was only being mildly ironic. The Government is open today despite the lingering effects of the snow and I decided to try to claw my way over and be there when the Pass and ID office opened at 0800. I was prepared to make a couple runs on it, but the bad roads kept a lot of folks home, the Army civilians showed up for work, and getting the new ID card was only about an hour long inconvenience.
The Provost Marshall was a little slower, but both offices now have my fingerprints and signature facsimiles. Considering what else they have on us, I guess I should be grateful it is just that.
I had to smile when I read about Jasper’s arrival on the base in the middle of the attack on Pearl Harbor. The sentry just waved him in.
More about beaches, and the sands of Iwo Jima tomorrow.
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303