Read Online The Final Storm by Jeff Shaara - Free Book Online

had rarely accepted anyone’s authority other than the president. In Washington, Arnold had shown sufficient stubbornness and had earned enough clout with members of Congress that most in the War Department conceded to him his place in the military’s hierarchy, virtually equal to that of George Marshall and Admiral Ernest King. That arrangement had worked well enough in Europe, where the value of airpower had long proven itself. There General Eisenhower had avoided any controversy over the independence of Jimmy Doolittle and Tooey Spaatz. But those men had made it a point to work in full cooperation with the Allies’ European commander. As far as Nimitz could see, Curtis LeMay had little interest in cooperating with anyone. Like many in the air commands, LeMayseemed to believe that the war could be won by dropping as many bombs as possible on the enemy. With his extraordinary success in obliterating so much of the Japanese capital, LeMay would only grow more vocal about fighting the war precisely as he pleased. The soldiers and Marines who slogged ashore into vicious fighting on so many of these disease-infested islands were just a time-consuming sideshow.
    L eMay leaned close to the paper target, said, “Work on the grip. Hold it a little looser. You’re tugging it to the right.”
    Nimitz already knew how his marksmanship compared to the other ranking officers on Guam, or anywhere else, and didn’t really need any coaching from an air force man.
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “Nah, you won’t. Nobody listens to much of anything I have to say, so I try to keep my mouth shut, usually.”
    But not today, Nimitz thought.
    “You come by for a shot of bourbon, General? Or maybe some dinner?”
    LeMay didn’t smile, nodded.
    “Dinner. That’s good. I thought you might like to see the reports from Tokyo. Recon flights confirm what I predicted. I turned that place into one big damn cow pasture.”
    Nimitz glanced at the Marine sergeant, who seemed to perk up at the words.
    “Let’s take this inside, General. I’m getting too old for the heat. My cook’s supposed to be throwing together some fish recipe he picked up from the natives. Top-notch, if you don’t mind some spice.”
    “That’ll do. Lead the way. Anything you got here has to beat the slop your supply boys throw my way. Not as bad as MacArthur though, I’ll give you that. His people spend more time trying to poison us than feed us.”
    Nimitz knew better than to open that door, thought, let it go. He has a permanent bone up his ass for MacArthur, and I don’t really want to hear about it. I hear enough of that as it is.
    “Y ou could have sent the reports over here, you know. No need to deliver them yourself.”
    LeMay sipped from the glass, seemed to appraise Nimitz’s liquid offering.
    “No chance. I wanted you to hear it from me, not some ass-kissing toad who thinks being a messenger will get him a medal.” LeMay paused. “Word is, your boys are rationed a bottle of booze a week and a case of beer to boot. We don’t get a damn drop. No alcohol ration at all. Not your doing, I guess. Someone back in Washington thinks air boys don’t need any favors.” LeMay tipped up the glass, emptied it, appraised again, nodded slowly. “Good stuff. Hate to see somebody in my command do a commando raid on your supply depot, liberate a few hundred cases of this stuff.” He stared at Nimitz, still no smile. “Just kidding.”
    “So. Reports? Photos?”
    “Right here.” LeMay held the folder in his hand, hesitated, looked at Nimitz again. “Bomb ’em and burn ’em until they quit. That’s been my motto and my strategy since I earned this command. So, here, Admiral. Take a look at this.” LeMay took a long, self-satisfied breath, and Nimitz knew the presentation had been well rehearsed.
    “On nine March we threw two hundred seventy-nine Superforts right into Tokyo. I took a new approach, ordered them in at night, flying low, under ten thousand