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The Planning of Pearl Harbor

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On this date in 1941, the Imperial Japanese Navy launched an incredibly daring, technically sophisticated combined naval-aerial surprise attack on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor, just northwest of Honolulu on the Hawaiian island of Oahu. The devastating aerial attack carried out by Japanese fighters, dive-bombers and torpedo planes crippled the U.S. Pacific fleet as a preamble to Imperial Japan’s lunge for strategic territories spanning the Pacific Ocean – but it also stirred the wrath of the American people, decisively ending U.S. isolationism and bringing the world’s largest industrial power squarely into the war against Japan and its European allies in Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy.

The Economic Vise

Pearl Harbor was born of strategic desperation. Over the previous couple years, Japan and the U.S. had been engaged in a tit-for-tat diplomatic and economic struggle, as the Roosevelt administration tried to restrain escalating Japanese aggression with embargoes on raw materials crucial for the Japanese war machine. Japan was heavily dependent on American supplies of oil and metal, with American shipments accounting for 80% of Japan’s oil and copper imports and almost half of its scrap iron imports.

Over several years the U.S. tightened the economic vise, responding to Japanese aggression in China and Southeast Asia by cutting off supplies of aircraft materials in 1939, scrap steel in 1940, and machine tools and metal ore in 1941. The final blow came with the suspension of oil deliveries in summer 1941.

At first, the Japanese hoped to negotiate their way out of the American economic embargo, but the Americans’ unwavering opposition to Japanese foreign policy convinced the Japanese leadership that further negotiation would be fruitless. They decided instead to deliver a knockout blow to the U.S. Pacific fleet with a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, which would, they calculated, give Japan two years of unchallenged supremacy in the Pacific and a window in which they could conquer the oil-rich Dutch East Indies (today Indonesia) and the rubber plantations of Malaya. This, in turn, would give Japan enough resources to fight on once the U.S. rebuilt its Pacific fleet.

The odds were steep, to say the least. The plan required bringing a huge aircraft carrier battle fleet – comprised of six carriers, two battleships, and 48 combat and support vessels including cruisers, destroyers, submarines and tankers – 4,000 miles from the northeast coast of Japan to Pacific waters north of Hawaii in complete radio silence, a feat akin to smuggling an elephant through airport security. Ships in the attack fleet couldn’t communicate with home base, meaning there was no way to call off the attack without exposing their position.

Uphill Battle

In fact, the man in charge of planning the attack – the brilliant admiral Isoroku Yamamato, who had studied in the U.S. and respected American fighting spirit – advised against it, noting that even if it succeeded, Japan would still face an implacable enemy drawing on huge resources. He famously warned:

“Should hostilities once break out between Japan and the United States, it would not be enough that we take Guam and the Philippines, nor even Hawaii and San Francisco. To make victory certain, we would have to march into Washington and dictate the terms of peace in the White House. I wonder if our politicians (who speak so lightly of a Japanese-American war) have confidence as to the final outcome and are prepared to make the necessary sacrifices.”

But the hyper-nationalists in charge of Japan could not imagine submitting to what they perceived as American bullying, and decided on war, no matter how desperate, and no matter how steep the price. The die was cast.

After leaving Japan on November 26, the Japanese fleet steamed east across the Pacific, reaching a point about a thousand miles north of Hawaii on December 3. During their silent run, the Japanese ships were scattered by a sudden Pacific storm that lasted two days, stringing them out over hundreds miles of open water – but still managed to regroup with minimal use of short-range, low-power radio to communicate their positions, a remarkable feat of seamanship and navigation. Then from December 4-6, the fleet headed south until it reached a staging point a few hundred miles north of Oahu in the early morning hours of December 7.

Here the attack shifted from its naval phase to the aerial phase, with two waves of dive-bombers, fighters, and torpedo planes taking off from the carriers beginning at 6:10 a.m. Hawaii time. The first bombs fell at 7:48 a.m. Surprise was complete, as the operators of the primitive American radar mistook the approaching Japanese planes for a returning flight of U.S. B-17s.

Assisted by some ineffectual midget submarines, over two hours and 20 minutes 354 Japanese planes sank four American battleships, damaged three more and caused the last to run aground, while damaging or destroying ten other ships and over three hundred aircraft. The human toll came to 2,402 killed and 1,247 wounded, including 1,177 dead aboard the U.S.S. Arizona, the hardest-hit. Japanese losses were light, reflecting their success in achieving total surprise. Meanwhile Japanese forces fanned out across the Pacific, with near-simultaneous attacks on American forces in the Philippines and Guam, and tiny colonial garrisons in the Dutch East Indies and Malaya.

Although the attack was devastatingly successful, it was not the knockout blow Japanese planners had intended. Most importantly, the U.S. Navy’s Pacific carrier fleet was left untouched, since all three aircraft carriers were at sea during the attack. These would provide a crucial counterbalance to Japanese naval power in the Pacific in 1942, beginning with the stunning American victory at the battle of Midway.

Photo: George Strock/TIME & LIFE Pictures

Worse, the Japanese leadership badly miscalculated in their long-term strategy. In particular, they were over-optimistic about their ability to secure the long maritime supply lines from the oil wells of the East Indies to Japan; these proved vulnerable to American submarines, which helped strangle the Japanese economy in the final years of the war.

Last but not least, the effect on American morale was essentially the opposite of what the Japanese hoped. In the weeks following Pearl Harbor (which included Adolf Hitler’s declaration of war on the U.S. on December 11), approximately one million American men volunteered for military duty. This would be followed by a draft that eventually built the American military into 12-million-strong juggernaut by 1944, compared with Japan’s 4.3 million men in military service by the end of the war.

Thanks to LIFE.com for the photo. See more rare Pearl Harbor pictures here. This post originally appeared in 2011.

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History
Civilian Researchers Discover Wreckage of the USS Indianapolis
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On July 30, 1945, the cruiser USS Indianapolis sank in the Pacific Ocean after it was torpedoed by the Imperial Japanese Navy submarine I-58. More than 70 years after the historic naval tragedy— which claimed the lives of nearly 900 crew—The New York Times reports that the ship’s mysterious final resting place has been found.

The discovery came courtesy of a team of civilian researchers, led by Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen. His state-of-the-art research vessel, Petrel, located the wreck 18,000 feet below the Pacific’s surface, the team announced on Saturday, August 19.

"To be able to honor the brave men of the USS Indianapolis and their families through the discovery of a ship that played such a significant role in ending World War II is truly humbling,” Allen said in a statement. “As Americans, we all owe a debt of gratitude to the crew for their courage, persistence, and sacrifice in the face of horrendous circumstances."

Before it sank, the USS Indianapolis had just completed a top-secret mission to a naval base on the Northern Mariana island of Tinian. After delivering enriched uranium and components for Little Boy— the atomic bomb that the U.S. would drop on the Japanese city of Hiroshima about a week later—the cruiser forged ahead to Guam, and then to the Philippines. It was supposed to meet the battleship USS Idaho at Leyte Gulf in the Philippines to prepare to attack Japan.

The USS Indianapolis never made it to Leyte Gulf. Shortly after midnight on July 30, the Japanese submarine I-58 spotted the cruiser and fired six torpedoes. The USS Indianapolis—which was hit twice—sank within 12 minutes. Around 300 to 400 sailors and Marines were killed in the attack; the rest were stranded in the Pacific Ocean for several days.

Many of these survivors would ultimately lose their lives to sharks, a grisly scene that would be famously (albeit semi-accurately) recounted in the 1975 movie Jaws. Others died from drowning, heat stroke, thirst, burns and injuries, swallowing salt water or fuel oil, and suicide. More than 300 crew members were rescued after a bomber pilot accidently sighted the imperiled men while on a routine antisubmarine patrol.

The mass tragedy—which wouldn’t be announced to the public until August 15, 1945—sparked controversy: Charles B. McVay III, captain of the USS Indianapolis, was found guilty in a court martial of failing to steer the ship on a “zigzag” course to elude Japanese submarines. A Japanese submarine captain testified that this precautionary measure wouldn’t have thwarted the enemy, but McVay was charged nonetheless. The captain died by suicide in 1968, and wouldn’t be officially exonerated by the Navy until 2001.

For decades, the remains of the USS Indianapolis were lost to the ravages of time and nature. But in 2016, naval historian Richard Hulver found a historic ship log that mentioned a sighting of the USS Indianapolis. Allen’s search team used this information to locate the ship, which was west of where experts assumed it had gone down.

Allen’s crew took pictures of the wreckage, including a piece of its hull, and will search for more of the ship. They plan to keep the exact location of the USS Indianapolis a secret, however, to honor the sunken ship as a war grave.

"While our search for the rest of the wreckage will continue, I hope everyone connected to this historic ship will feel some measure of closure at this discovery so long in coming,” Allen said.

[h/t The New York Times]

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entertainment
The Time That Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis Opened Competing Restaurants on the Sunset Strip
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From 1946 to 1956, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis were show business supernovas. With an act that combined singing, slapstick, and spontaneous hijinks, the duo sold out nightclubs coast to coast, then went on to conquer radio, television, and film. Long before Elvis and The Beatles came along, Dean and Jerry  were rock stars of comedy.

Offstage, there was a cordial but cool friendship between the laidback Martin and the more neurotic Lewis. But as the pressures of their success increased, so did the tensions between them. Martin grew tired of playing the bland romantic straight man to Lewis’s manic monkey boy. And when Lewis started to grab more headlines and write himself bigger parts in their movies, Martin decided to quit the act. In an angry moment, he told Lewis that he was “nothing to me but a f**king dollar sign.”

After the split, both men went on with their individual careers, though it took Martin a few years before he regained his footing. One of his ventures during that transitional period was a Hollywood eatery called Dino’s Lodge.

DINO'S LODGE

In the summer of 1958, Martin and his business partner, Maury Samuels, bought a controlling interest in a restaurant called The Alpine Lodge, at 8524 Sunset Boulevard. They hired Dean’s brother Bill to manage the place, and renamed it Dino’s Lodge.

Outside they put up a large neon sign, a likeness of Dean’s face. The sign turned into a national symbol of hip and cool, thanks to appearances on TV shows like Dragnet, The Andy Griffith Show, and most prominently, in the opening credits of 77 Sunset Strip.

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Dino’s Lodge was popular from the get-go, serving home-style Italian food and steaks in an intimate, candlelit, wood-paneled room meant to replicate Martin’s own den. In the first year, Dean himself frequented the place, signing autographs and posing for photos with starstruck diners. He also occasionally brought along famous friends like Frank Sinatra and Shirley MacLaine. To promote the idea of the swingin’ lifestyle that Martin often sang about, Dino’s served “an early morning breakfast from 1 to 5 a.m.” The restaurant also had a lounge that featured singers, though only females. Dean apparently didn’t want any male vocalists encroaching on his turf.

But as with many a celebrity venture into the food business, this one soon turned sour. And most of that was due to the jealousy of Jerry Lewis.

JERRY'S

In late 1961, Lewis wooed Martin’s business partner Maury Samuels away, ponied up some $350,000, and opened his own copycat restaurant three blocks down Sunset. It was called Jerry’s. To make it clear he was out for top billing, Lewis had his own likeness rendered in neon, then mounted it on a revolving pole 100 feet above his restaurant. In contrast to Dino’s Italian-based menu, Jerry’s would serve “American and Hebrew viands.” Lewis didn’t stop there. Within a few months, he’d hired away Dino’s top two chefs, his maître d', and half his waitstaff.

Wire Photo, eBay, Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

When Lewis was in Los Angeles, he made of point of table-hopping and schmoozing with his guests at his restaurant, and he occasionally brought in a few of his celebrity friends, like Peggy Lee and Steve McQueen.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

By the following year, a disgusted Dean Martin was fed up with the restaurant business and cut ties with Dino’s Lodge. Much to his aggravation, he lost a motion in court to have his likeness and name removed from the sign. So the new owners carried on as Dino’s Lodge, with the big neon head staring down on Sunset for another decade before the place finally went bust.

Jerry’s lost steam long before that, folding in the mid-1960s.

For the rest of the 1960s and the early 1970s, Martin and Lewis avoided each other. “Jerry’s trying hard to be a director,” Dean once told a reporter. “He couldn’t even direct traffic.”

In 1976, Frank Sinatra famously engineered an onstage reunion of the pair during The Jerry Lewis Telethon. While the audience roared their approval, Sinatra said, “I think it’s about time, don’t you?” And to Sinatra, Lewis said under his breath, “You son of a bitch.”

What followed was an awkward few moments of shtick between the former partners. Reportedly, Martin was drunk and Lewis was doped up on painkillers. There was a quick embrace, Martin sang with Sinatra, then blew Lewis a kiss and disappeared from his life for good. Martin died in 1995. Lewis passed away today, at the age of 91.

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