Most Pacific War experts know how the US figured out Midway would be the location of the next Japanese offensive. On May 19, the Island was ordered to broadcast an uncoded message, that they
would soon be short of fresh water; Pearl Harbor then sent a reply, also uncoded, that a water barge was on its way. Allied listening stations were rewarded the same day with a Japanese message
reporting that “AF” the target of their next offensive, was running short of water. But, what if in mid-May 1942, a Japanese sailor, after transcribing the running short of fresh water message, had
turned to his superior to ask, “Why are they broadcasting this message in the clear? Don’t they care if we know that Midway is running short of water?” What if, acting on this the young communications officer had passed along his doubts? What if more experienced cryptographers and cipher specialists in Tokyo had not dismissed the idea that Imperial Japan’s codes could be broken; what if they had considered the possibility that the Americans could possibly be playing out an intelligence gambit. They might have reasoned, “If the Americans have been able to read some of our messages and are attempting to link potential objectives with cipher designations, would not this little message be an excellent way to trick us into confirming the code word for Midway? What if, with a red flag raised,
naval staff at Imperial General Headquarters Tokyo broadcast the now famous message of May 19, 1942, referring to “AF” being short of water not merely as a routine signal but as the first salvo in a Japanese intelligence offensive designed to lure the Americans to battle on terms favorable to Japan?
would soon be short of fresh water; Pearl Harbor then sent a reply, also uncoded, that a water barge was on its way. Allied listening stations were rewarded the same day with a Japanese message
reporting that “AF” the target of their next offensive, was running short of water. But, what if in mid-May 1942, a Japanese sailor, after transcribing the running short of fresh water message, had
turned to his superior to ask, “Why are they broadcasting this message in the clear? Don’t they care if we know that Midway is running short of water?” What if, acting on this the young communications officer had passed along his doubts? What if more experienced cryptographers and cipher specialists in Tokyo had not dismissed the idea that Imperial Japan’s codes could be broken; what if they had considered the possibility that the Americans could possibly be playing out an intelligence gambit. They might have reasoned, “If the Americans have been able to read some of our messages and are attempting to link potential objectives with cipher designations, would not this little message be an excellent way to trick us into confirming the code word for Midway? What if, with a red flag raised,
naval staff at Imperial General Headquarters Tokyo broadcast the now famous message of May 19, 1942, referring to “AF” being short of water not merely as a routine signal but as the first salvo in a Japanese intelligence offensive designed to lure the Americans to battle on terms favorable to Japan?